Tuesday, March 27, 2012

I like being single. I'm not saying that I don't want to be in a relationship, quite the opposite actually, but I am pretty content with my life. It is what it is, and I should make the very best of it. I thought, like most young Mormon girls, that I'd be married and probably have a kid on the way by the time I was 21. I specifically remember thinking, when I turned 16, that I would be married within the next 5 years. Whoa boy, am I relieved that I turned out to be wrong about that!

One of my biggest peeves is when people complain about their relationship status. Once and while, in the company of close friends, over a pint of ice cream, is one thing, but on a daily or semi-daily basis is just ridiculous. In front of a whole group of people at church just makes me want to punch you, especially if you were born in the 90's. I've met so many people who I honestly don't think believed that life would begin for them until they were married, that as a person, their relationship status defined them. I really hate that mentality. How can you expect to be a partner in a relationship when you don't even have confidence in who you are as an individual? Only you can "complete" yourself- nobody else can do that for you. Besides that, it's just downright annoying having to listen or read post after post on Facebook about how you hate being single. Really, is there anyone that loves being alone? No, but I can guarantee you that complaining about it isn't going to help get you a date. And while you are at it, do something to improve yourself and most importantly, have some fun!

And now for some light entertainment.

When I was 14, I decided it would be awesome to stick 2 of those teeny tiny Cert mints up my nose. I was goofing off with a bunch of equally weird friends and I thought it would be funny, and it was...until my nose started burning with the fire of a thousand hells. The horrible thing about having a burning sensation within your nostrils is that, unlike when your mouth is burning, you can't exactly douse the inside of your nose in liquid. I guess you could inhale milk or water, but I'm pretty sure that would hurt equally as much as the burning mintiness. Another thing about stuffing mints up your nose is that when the burning starts, a panic sets in and you may suddenly inhale, causing those tiny mints to become lodged up your nasal canal in that awkward spot where your finger just can't reach. By the time you do manage to find a way to dislodge the mint, your eyes are watering in both gratitude that you finally got the mint out of your face, and pain because the burning is so intense you are sure your brain is about to melt. After this experience, you vow to never, ever, try sticking anything else up your nose again and to share this piece of wisdom with all of those that are around you.

You're welcome.


Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I was inches from being in a major car accident tonight. I was in a double turn lane and when the arrow turned green, I started to go. I was distracted when the car next to me started to make a u-turn when suddenly this guy comes barreling through the intersection doing at least 45. Hi either didn't realize his light was red or had been trying to speed through before it turned- either way, I could see the whites of his beady little eyes as he sped right past me, he was that close. If I had gone right when my light had turned, he would have creamed me on the driver's side for sure, but for some reason, I delayed going. It happened so fast that I didn't even have time for that adrenaline rush that usually comes- I was just in shock. I was on my way to the temple tonight when this happened and when I finally got there and sat down, I realized that I could just as easily have been lying on a table in the ER at that very moment.

Yeah, a little dramatic, I know (I have a very, very active imagination), but it got me thinking about trials and burdens. We're all given challenges in this life and we try to deal with them the best we can, but what about the trials we aren't given? Have you ever stopped to wonder, when you are in the midst of a crisis or difficulty, what additional pains you have either been, or are currently are being, spared from? Think of how many blessings you receive on a daily basis without even realizing. I'm sure one day, when we can see the bigger picture, we will all be amazed at just how blessed we were, even during the hardest of times when it seemed like no one was there.

I believe that we are only given as many difficulties and challenges as we can handle. Yeah, sometimes they push us right to the edge but it's like when you are training with weights- you aren't going to get results until you push your muscles to the point of fatigue and your muscles start shaking. If you don't push yourself to that point, then you haven't reached your maximum and broken enough tissue to build more. It seems kind of backwards, having to break your muscle to generate new growth, but it works. I think the same thing can be said about life. If you aren't pushed to your max, then you never know how strong you are. I also think that it's through these challenges that you come to know yourself better- who you are, what you believe in, and how you want to progress.

I'm a firm believer in gratitude. I've learned through experience that attitude is everything and life is just so much easier when you look for the good in the world. Without gratitude, it's hard to find hope that things will improve, and without hope, what's the whole point of this life? Sometimes it's an effort, but I try really hard to acknowledge all of the good things in my life- when you start thinking about all of the good that surrounds you, it's kind of hard to stop.

So, the gist of this whole serious conversation is this: If you stub your toe on the way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, stop cursing and be grateful that you even have a toe to stub. There are people in this world who do not have toes and would gladly endure the pain of the occasional stubbing just to have them.


Tuesday, March 20, 2012

When I was 7, my family moved from Arizona to Utah. I remember our house smelled like old people for the first little while, probably in part because the house was built in the 70's and also, the previous owners were of a more elderly generation. Actually, they were probably only in their 50's, but to a 7 year old, 50 might as well be 90. 

So, I was in the second grade at the time. It was October, I believe, so school had already started and I was jumping in at kind of an awkward time. I remember being mortified in class when the teacher had us using parentheses. I had no idea what they were- we hadn't covered them yet at my previous school. I was really confused by her explanation and ended up using them like ((this)) instead of "this." She then pointed out how wrong I was in front of the whole class and laughed. It was shenanigans like this over the course of the next month or so that ended up with my mom going to the school and demanding that I be moved to a different class. The day before I was moved, my soon-to-be-ex teacher pulled me into a closet where she proceeded to cry and hug me. And that was the first time I experienced to joy of Karma.

One great thing about changing classes was that I was no longer in the same class with my name twin. Yep, there were two Megan Wrights in the second grade- why they decided to put us in the same class, I will never understand. As the newer of the two MW's, I was asked to change my name on my school records so that the admins could differentiate between the two of us. The name I was thereafter known us upon the records of the Jordan School District was Meggie. Yep, Meggie. I hated it. It followed me around like a curse, even into Middle and High school. 

I was 14 when we moved to Oklahoma and I was so excited when I got to Middle school and was able to just be Megan. I had one year of having my name all to myself before I entered High school and found out that there was another Megan Wright in the grade ahead of me. I was mistakenly called to the principle's office on multiple occasions, mostly for disciplinary action, although onetime a whole bouquet of roses arrived for her and I contemplated taking them all for myself. Getting called out of class didn't bother me- any excuse to get out of class, right?- but the one thing that really burned me happened during my Sophomore year. 

I worked really hard that year to join as many clubs and organizations as possible- I was in choir, orchestra, drama, service club, spanish club, and even chess club (I still have no idea how to play- I joined only so that I could spend a few precious minutes each week in close proximity to one of my high school crushes). I know there were more because when all was said and done, I ended up on like, 15 different pages of my yearbook. Unfortunately, the OTHER MW ended up with the credit for most of those pages and I ended up with only a few pages correctly attributed to me. It's taken 10 years, but I think I'm finally over it. Or not. 

The moral of this story is this: please, don't call me Meggie. I like Megan or, if you really want to endear yourself to me, Meg is even better. 


Wednesday, March 14, 2012

You wouldn't know it to look at me, but for a white girl, I'm actually a pretty good dancer. I think I could hold my own in a Ricky Martin vs. Me, shake-n-shimmy contest. This is mostly due to the years I spent locked away in my room choreographing dance moves to the top 40's. I'm pretty sure winning "Best Choreographer" in my 6th grade lip-synching competition had something to do with this.

Needless to say, I began taking Zumba classes with just a little bit of an ego and ended up being schooled by all the Latinas in my class. I swear, those girls must have been born shaking their hips. The only thing us Danish girls can do is bake, and yes, while food is the way to a man's heart (or so I'm told), I think it's safe to say that being able to swing your hips effortlessly gets the job done a little faster.

Maybe I just need to watch some more Shakira music videos.

This spring weather is driving me nuts. One day, it's absolutely perfect outside and I'm daydreaming of all the places I want to visit in Utah this spring/summer- Spiral Jetty, the Salt Flats, Moab, Vernal (aka Dinosaur Heaven), Bryce Canyon. Then the next day, winter shows up again and threatens to dump snow everywhere.

 There are not enough words to express how much I love Spring and Summer in Utah. Really, love is an understatement. Utah is so blissfully perfect in the summertime-hot in the day, perfect for adventuring (hiking! rafting! road tripping with the windows down!), and cool at night, perfect for roasting stuff over a campfire. I say "stuff" because there are so many things that taste amazing when cooked over an open flame. Hot dogs and marshmallows aside, I have to say that Swedish Fish and Starburst are actually pretty delightful. Weird, I know, but oh so good. And if you are unfortunate to invite me to your campfire, I will probably bring my guitar and play really poorly for you. You're welcome.

Besides all of the fun adventuring, getting to wear skirts and dresses without the added layer of tights is just so liberating. Bare legs, unite!

In summation, I'm Danish and I need to just embrace the fact that my people do not dance, probably due to the unfortunate wooden shoes we wore for years and years. You try getting your krunk on in those babies and see what happens.


Monday, March 12, 2012

L'chaim! I love life.

At least that's how I felt as I embarked on a new adventure today. I drove 100 miles to Delta, Utah just to see what it was all about, and then came back home. I've had an insatiable curiosity to see what lies beyond Utah Lake and today I decided to satisfy that need. I came home from church and the thought of hanging out in my basement apartment on such a glorious day put me in a bad mood, so I packed a lunch, grabbed my camera, and Google mapped my way out of Utah County for the afternoon.

I am equal parts spontaneous and adventurous, but I'm also a little bit of a chicken and I've put off going on adventures because I've been stuck on the notion that I need someone to go with. This week I finally decided that if I keep waiting for a sidekick, I'm going to miss out living my life! So, with this realization, I set off to the great unknown, to see what lies beyond the realm of my familiarity.

I love going on long drives. My family used to take long drives on Sunday afternoons. We would just drive somewhere, up into the mountains or into the country, and spend time together. Those are some of my favorite memories. Today, it was just me and my trusty stead, Wellington. Long drives almost always turn into something of a spiritual experience for me. Weird, I know, but I'm left alone with my own thoughts to keep me occupied and I can't help but marvel at the beauty of the world and feel more keenly my place in it.

My faith is so important to me, but I wouldn't know that if I hadn't gone through a period of time where it wasn't. I was always a good girl- I went to church, got up at 5:15 every morning to go to seminary, I dressed modestly and never swore. Then I went to BYU and rebelled. I lost touch with what I'd been taught growing up and, eventually, I lost my faith. I wasn't a bad girl, per se, but I wasn't squeaky clean good either.

I wandered for a few years, frustrated and lacking a sense of purpose, before I was finally given this fantastic book about the Atonement called, "Believing Christ." The gist of the book is that it's not enough to just believe IN Christ, but to Believe Christ. It's a fantastic little book, and it lays out the Atonement in a way that is so easy to understand and yet it leaves you feeling so fulfilled. When I read this book, I was just blown away by how beautiful the Atonement is. It was when I finally felt like I had at least a little bit of understanding of that act that I began to regain my faith.

It didn't happen overnight. It was an effort, but one that seemed so much easier than before. Since then, I've come to feel more complete as a person. I better understand my place in this world and I know that whatever comes my way is meant to and I can handle it. I've discovered that there is beauty in everything, even in the darkest of times; we just have to look a little harder, but it's there.

I'm still a little bit of a rebel, and I always will be, but it's my faith that really defines me. I love the Book of Mormon- It contains some of the most beautiful scriptures about the Savior and is such an amazing companion to the Bible.

I get carried away, please forgive me. This is what happens when I go on long drives. Me + nature= reflections of a spiritual nature.

In conclusion, I'm spontaneous! I'm independent! I'm a rebel! Also, I not only sing in the car, but I also dance. Yep, I'm that girl.



Thursday, March 8, 2012

Dear Spring, 
Please come quickly and fill my heart with sunshine and rainbows. 
Love, Me

So, I went on a date with my "cousin" last week. Originally, if you recall, I wasn't sure whether to spring the news on him that we were probably related right at our introduction, or casually over dinner. In the end, it came out during an awkward pause in between our initial meeting and sitting down to eat. I couldn't help it- as much as I enjoy awkward pauses, I had to fill the void and, "We're related," was all I could come up with. 

 Now, I'm actually a pretty good conversationalist, but when it comes to small talk and/or flirting, I'm really terrible. My mother and my sister have tried to educate me in the art of flirtation, but I fail them. I would rather be straight forward and invest in a substantial conversation- small talk just makes me uncomfortable. It probably goes back to my childhood when I was obsessed with Space Camp and rollerblading. While my sister was playing Barbies and learning how to be coy with Ken, I was outside climbing trees or racing my bike down the big hill by our house. I loved being outside. I was not a girly-girl; I was a tom-boy and proud of it. Oddly, I think it was my job working as a gardener that finally made me realize how much I actually do like being a girly-girl. 

I spent a couple years in college working on the grounds crew. It was by far my favorite job- I got to be outside all day, had a sweet farmers tan, and it was socially acceptable to get filthy dirty. In a word, it was awesome. However, after a long day stuck in my dirt-and-sweat caked jeans and t-shirt, all I'd want to do when I got home was jump out of the grunge and just feel pretty. So I'd take a shower, do my hair and makeup, and put something cute on, despite the fact that it was very late in the afternoon and I probably wasn't even going anywhere. I just wanted to feel like a girl.

Fast forward a couple of years, and most of my closet is made up of skirts and dresses. I love them. Pants are so overrated. And so are unpolished nails. 

In a nutshell, "we're related," is probably not the best conversation starter, if you need a laugh just ask me to try flirting with someone, and in an attempt to make up for my lost years as a tom-boy, I own something like, a dozen dresses and 18 skirts. Word. 


Friday, March 2, 2012

I finally bought a tv tonight. It was only $25 dollars and it's actually pretty decent. I really wish someone had been secretly filming me as I tried to load it into the back of my little Versa. I'm not that tall, and as I was trying to get it out of the shopping cart, it kept getting stuck and I ended up dragging the cart around as I tried to get the tv out. Then, when I got home, I could barely carry it 20 feet before I had to set it down. By that point, I'd reached the 4 little stairs that descend to my front door and, of course, they were covered in ice. I had to ease my tv down the steps one at a time until I was finally able to pick it up and turn around to take should have been 2 regular steps but turned into about 20 teeny-tiny ones before having to set it down again. Thankfully, of those 20 teeny-tiny steps, five of them put me exactly one regular step into my apartment and I was able to shut the front door so that no one else would be able to witness the embarrassment that was me trying to get my tv in the house. Once the door was shut, I had the arduous task of picking the tv off of the floor and transferring it about 10 feet south and 2 feet east to my tv stand. Seriously, when it comes to old, mammoth-sized tv's, mine really is not that bad, but what it lacks in bulkiness is makes up in density. I swear, one day I'm going to drop that sucker and find the insides are chocked full of pirate gold. 

But at least now I have a tv and, although slowly, my little apartment is starting to feel more like a home. 

I like it.