Kicking and Screaming

A year ago I was in Shanghai, China studying Chinese.

Today I'm in Dallas, Texas, studying a very different language.

That's right, folks, you heard it from here probably last: I've left Tennessee and driven myself to Texas to learn web development and also driven myself insane.

"But Mackenzie," you ask, "what could make you do something so crazy? I mean, you spent the last four years studying business, management, and Chinese!"

Yeah, you're right. I did. And I don't regret it. I loved my time at the University of Memphis. I loved my classes, my friends, and my major. And I still love Chinese.

So why the switch? Well, after I graduated, the job market wasn't super kind. I'm not a very patient person, so sitting around applying for jobs every day and either not hearing back or getting rejected was a bit taxing. One morning, I sent out an application and within thirty minutes I got rejected. It was a bit of a turning point for me. After laying on the floor for an undisclosed number of minutes, I sat down with my dad to talk about things.

I told him the truth: that I was applying jobs just so I could have one. I didn't really care about being a financial analyst or business analyst. No one wanted Chinese in Tennessee. I'd have to work with huge databases and number manipulation... if I found work at all. I didn't find meaning in any off the things I was finding. I was panicking. I felt backed into a corner. I thought everything would have fallen into place, that from the mist would emerge the next stepping stone, smooth and solid.

Unfortunately, there was no stone, and I was neck-deep in unknown waters.

So my dad suggested I try a coding bootcamp. Coding? Okay. Bootcamp? Err.... maybe. I didn't actually know what a coding bootcamp was. From my quick 15-minute research, I discerned that they're short, fast-paced programs meant to take people from zero to hero in the realm of web development. In college I took a coding class and really enjoyed it, so I thought, maybe this is right for me.

I decided within the day that I was going. Like I said, patience is not a virtue of mine.

I passed the initial interview. I completed the pre-bootcamp work with plenty of time to spare I passed the second interview with flying colors. Simultaneously time was slowing to a crawl and speeding up. In the moment, I couldn't wait to get out of the house and learning again-- looking back, it seems the time slipped between my fingers like sand from a broken hourglass.

The drive to Texas was a grueling eight and a half hours. About an hour away from the Texas border, my AC started to fizzle. I was undeterred-- I sailed down the highway with windows rolled down and hair tied up. I was playing with the big boys, swerving between skyscrapers and landing smack-dab in the middle of downtown Dallas. It reminded my a bit of Shanghai. Dallas is huge.

The office space is great, open, and inviting. The building is one of those vintage renovated warehouses with office space on the bottom and apartments on top. I live on the fifth floor with a welcoming view of the downtown lights from my living room window. Not that I'm upstairs too much anymore.  I eat, sleep, and code in the office, and drag myself upstairs to shower and sleep. I'm thriving here, I'm finding. Web development and the endless mazes behind it are laid out like maps to me, and the guide is in my hand. Day by day I'm swirling deeper and deeper through the corridors, to the prize at the center....

THAT SWEET SWEET DEVELOPER SALARY.

But honestly, I love what I'm doing here. As someone who is results-oriented, being able to punch through a puzzle and see the page do what you want it to do is extremely gratifying. The people here are motivated, kind, and friendly. The weather is amazing. There are dogs everywhere. Things are great.

Sometimes things are still hard. I still get nervous and sometimes paranoid. I freeze up. But every day it's easy to get out of bed, something which used to be very hard for me. Even though I still get mild anxiety, my mental health has been much, much better since I've come here.

As always, I say I'm going to try keeping my blog updated more. Yeah, you know how that goes. Something that I will probably keep updating is my work-in-progress portfolio site. It's not designed for mobile yet, and there's a lot to fill in, but it's a nice way for me to throw down what I've learned. You can find it here.

Things are good. The coffee is good. We go from 9-5 here, but I'm still in the lab till 10 some nights. It's not easy. But it's fun.

And isn't that the most important thing?

Shanghai, I Love You, but You're Freaking Me Out

If I had to compare China with something, it'd be with a roller coaster. You've heard all about it, read all about it, and when you get on you're a little nervous, but SO excited. You get on, and it's so amazing, so great you can't believe it. Better than you could have imagined.

Maybe some people on the ride with you scream too loud, but overall it's great.

Then it keeps going, and you realize how great it is to be with two feet planted firmly on the ground you'er familiar with. You knew some of the turns and flips of the roller coaster, but feeling them for yourself is so different. You get sick. It's stop being fun. You can't wait for it to be over.

When you get off, you kiss the ground. You liked the coaster, but you're not sure if you'll ride it again.

~

I wish I had an overwhelmingly positive experience in China, but for the last two months, life was a struggle. Roommate issues, injuries, and injury-related class issues were a big problem. After I hurt my knee, everything changed.

I mean, I wish I had a better explanation as for what happened, but I don't. Ever since I was little, my kneecap has popped out of place. I never thought it was an issue because even though it bothered me, it always healed itself. It's not anyone's fault that I didn't get it checked out earlier.

It was the Friday night we pulled into Beijing. I was walking through the railway station with some of my friends and bam, knee slips out of place. The normal extreme pain that fades, the inability to walk, the soreness, and the jello feeling were all there, but they didn't stop. I could hardly walk, and going to the Great Wall tomorrow definitely couldn't happen. That's right, folks. I missed climbing it because of my knee. But you know, stay positive, right? That Tuesday, crutches in hand, I went to see the knee doctor, who sent me for an MRI. The results were grim: I'd need surgery ASAP, because the ligament holding my kneecap in place was torn, and I had a loose body floating around my knee area because of a fractured bone. It wasn't like I was going to die if I didn't get the surgery, but the longer I waited, the worse it would get. Even though walking was easier, my knee still buckled. I remember I was walking on completely flat ground inside at a normal pace and it slipped out of place again. Not only that, but I was told that the ligament had a risk of healing incorrectly, which was very bad. Also, the loose body could float around the the front of my knee, slip into the little knee-cap space, and prevent me from fully extending my knee.

Great.

Faced with all of this, and the recovery time, I made the decision to get surgery in China. I was answered with various responses. Several of my roommates asked if it was even necessary for me to get surgery. I imagine they may have thought it was a bit overblown; a lot of my roommates were kind of shitty people. The kind of shitty personalities you see in sitcoms or something and you think can't exist. Trust me, I had three of them in one house.

So, alone and armed with the international insurance hotline, I went under the knife. I had friends promise to visit me, and one of my advisors for the study abroad program as well. I showed up at the Shanghai United Family Hospital at 7AM for my surgery at 9AM. My anesthesiologist was Australian and funny, my nurses were Chinese, and my doctor was from Hong Kong. The surgery went well, and I woke up in my hospital room in time to have lunch (PASTA LA CARBONAAAARRA). My knee was huge, bandaged, and a bit painful, but I was connected to antibiotics and given snacks, so it wasn't too bad. Then I waited for my advisor and friends. My friends couldn't come because there wasn't time, they had to work, they had homework, papers, tests, so I waited for my advisor. He didn't come, either. I spent the day and night alone in hospital.

I'm not trying to garner pity. This is the truth of what happened. The hospital was amazing, they treated me well, and the room was nice. It was amazing, with great food, great internet, and great people. But I was alone.

That really set the tone for the rest of my visit to China. There were great people, like my friends Susie and Nina, but the negativity within my house was suffocating. I missed almost two week of classes because I couldn't even walk there. Some days I woke up and my leg ached and hurt too much to go-- some of my housemates accused me of skipping classes because I was lazy. One of them asked me if I was willing to give her some of my painkillers. It was... less than stellar.

But eventually, after starting physical therapy, I was walking to class. I took my finals, and flew home. I got to the airport nine hours early, partly because it was more convenient to get to the airport at 9PM than 4AM, and partly because I couldn't stand to stay in the house any longer.

For all the modern wonders Shanghai had, all its history, its opportunity, and its towering skyscrapers, I couldn't love it. I missed the clean air and blue skies, I missed my family and my friends and my boyfriend. I missed people who didn't live for drama and clubbing and parties. I missed my routines and my campus.

I learned a lot in Shanghai, about myself and others. I really improved my Chinese, and I really hope to get a job with it. I've learned to really appreciate life here in the States.

I really can't wait to get back to school, graduate, and do something. I want an apartment, a cat, and freedom. Even though I can't say for sure what kind of job I want, I know for sure those things are what I want.

Hopefully I can start blogging with some kind of regularity too. Hopefully.

An American Panda in China

Man, I forgot how hard blog posts are. I've been not posting for so long, where do I start?

Well, maybe with China.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you probably know where I am. For the past month I've been living in Shanghai, a block away from East China Normal University, where I take classes every day of the work week. I start with breakfast-- usually a red bean roll and scrambled eggs. I pack a lunch (PBJ sandwich. The food isn't super great on campus, and makes me take more than one trip to the  bathroom) and a banana as a snack. Then I walk twenty minutes to class. It's a five minute walk to campus, but the campus is rather larger. From 8:30 to 12:00, I take either a reading, listening, or speaking course, taught entirely in Chinese. I am the only American in my class, which is filled with Italians, Koreans, a few Japanese, a French guy, an English guy, and me!

At 10AM we get a break, which is when I eat the banana, and I talk to Nina, who is not only my roommate, but taking the same level as me. It makes studying a lot easier.

Then, it's back to class until 12. Nina eats lunch on campus, so I join her with my packed lunch and sometimes get some tea. Plum is my favorite. Ice is in short supply, but the tea is sweet, iced, and has little chunks of plum in it. Very refreshing in the summer.

Then we walk home together, figuring out our plans for the day. Sometimes we'll stay home and study in the living room, with the TV blubbing Chinese in the background. Sometimes we'll go to a cafe, hoping that the wifi is good enough to use. I'll usually stay home though-- cafe coffee can get expensive and isn't quite as good as the instant stuff I make at home.

Grocery shopping has been an adventure. The food is so weird here-- not bad, but different. Most things I'm used to making at home I have no idea how to recreate here. The cooking style and flavors are so different. Last night, however, I made curry, and it was delicious. The vegetables at the grocery are really cheap, too. So is the rice-- you just have to get someone else to help you carry it home.

In the late afternoon or evening I'll study, read on my kindle, do laundry, or watch some of the TV or movies I brought with me. I've been reading a lot more since I've been here, since it doesn't require wifi like most things.

I've been to most of the big places to see in Shanghai: the Pearl, the bund, the French Concession, the financial district. I've stopped to look in designer malls filled with beautiful art, I've traveled through a metro station decorated solely with glowing, fluttering butterflies. I've bought masks for the pollution, then found cute ones that are made to match your outfit. I've become accustomed to the hard beds; every time I lay down, my back pops. I hang my clothes outside to dry, push my way through crowded streets, and wander the streets exploring with my roommates.

So far, it's been an adventure. For so long, China has almost been such a distant thing to me. It's always just been a concept in my college career. China. Just a word.

Being here is a different world.

A long post about spoons, laundry, and the social acceptance of not being okay

PART ONE

I'll probably split this post into two parts. I have a lot of posts that end up as just drafts sitting in my write-y box thing, but hopefully this one won't be.

It's 12:16AM on a Tuesday. I'm planning to go to yoga at 7AM but I'm not quite sure if I'll make it. Peeling myself out of bed sometimes feel like when you're trying to delicately detach a pancake from a pan that isn't greased enough. But instead of a spatula you have a spoon. I'll talk more about spoons later. And whether it's 7AM or 12PM, it's much the same feeling, just with a more burnt pancake.

There's a lot that's bothering me right now. My room is very messy, my computer's still not hooked back up to my monitor, I think I caught a stomach bug (thanks, Will), the weather is cold, my trash is full, I have a huge pile of laundry to do, a stack of homework that I'm not looking at (it's like a T-Rex, if you don't move it can't see you, but it can smell fear) and a pile of emails I'm joyfully putting off because my Chrome window on my laptop can't seem to reach my school email. Oh, and my bed pad is slowly sliding off my bed, but I'm very short and it's very hard to shove back on without taking the whole sheet off and if I take the sheet off I might as well wash it but you know about that giant pile of laundry? I don't need it getting bigger.

Bummer.

So you may be wondering why I'm awake at 12:16-- well, it's 12:19 now-- when I have to be up so early. First of all, I got caught up in a pretty crazy movie with an M. Night Sha-lama-lama-ding twist at the end. From here you may ask, Mackenzie, sweet beautiful child, why are you watching Netflix so late when you just mentioned having all that homework?

Well, for starters, I work very, very efficiently under pressure. I spent the first half of my college career denying that while furiously procrastinating and doing papers at the last minute, papers that I made wonderful grades on. Sustainable? Probably not. Long-term? Definitely not. Good thing I'm almost done with college, right???

Anyway, why are you watching Netflix? Right, okay, so while I really don't like starting one thing while another is unfinished (read: a movie, book, TV show, etc.) I have a real problem with putting things down and never picking them back up. Books-- so many. I have so many books I want to read, but they just stay piled on my desk. Why? I have no energy to pick them up and read them. I have no spoons. (What's with all the talk about spoons?) It's not just books-- movies, games, TV, scarves, you name it, I won't finish it. But I finished this movie. I'm almost weirdly proud of myself.

Right, spoons. Why are we talking about spoons? Whelp, I have a fine little Wikipedia article that could explain it a lot better than I could:

"The spoon theory is a disability metaphor used to explain the reduced amount of energy available for activities of daily living and productive tasks that may result from disability or chronic illness. Spoons are an intangible unit of measurement used to track how much energy a person has throughout a given day. Each activity requires a given number of spoons, which will only be replaced as the person "recharges" through rest. A person who runs out of spoons has no choice but to rest until their spoons are replenished."

So... yeah, spoons. Other people could understand this as "fucks to give," but my grandmother reads this blog (hi Nana!), so we're going to talk about spoons. Depression sucks away all your spoons in the strangest way. Sometimes you wake up and you have TEN BILLION SPOONS. So many spoons you don't know what to do with. You make to-do lists, you do assignments, you eat all three meals in a day and you're on top of the world! Things are looking up. Life can't be bad with all of these spoons!

But then the next day you wake up and you have a paltry three spoons. Where are all my spoons? Is there a spoon thief? (Spoiler: Depression is the spoon thief.) Suddenly I have to decide between what I can make myself do today, what possibilities I have with my given spoons. Going to class is a spoon. Definitely the biggest, most important spoon. But getting out of bed is another spoon. And then a shower-- gheez, that's three spoons already! What are you going to do with all the laundry-- the trash, the dishes, the homework, the emails?

I hear you-- "Mackenzie, I don't feel like I need to expend a spoon on getting up. I do that every day! Everyone gets out of bed every day, what's the big deal?" Well, I have another quote for you!

"One of the tenets of the spoon theory is that many people with disabilities or chronic illness must carefully plan their daily activities to conserve their spoons, while most people without any disabilities or chronic illnesses don't need to worry about running out. Because healthy people do not feel the impact of spending spoons for mundane tasks such as bathing and getting dressed, they may not realize the amount of energy expended by chronically ill or disabled people just to get through the day."

 12:33AM and I'm still talking about spoons. Is this what a downward spiral feels like? Am I going to spoon hell? The road to hell is paved with well-intentioned spoons. Ha ha ha. I'm so funny.

PART TWO

Good morning! Just kidding, it's 2:18PM. 2:19 now. Sometimes I struggle to write quickly, and what I mean by that is I often get distracted. I hope writing never starts feeling like a chore to me, or else it it will probably end up like all the other chores I've yet to do. Remember the laundry? Yeah, I don't want writing to stack up on the floor on crumpled t-shirt at a time. 

Re-reading what I wrote last night, I'm a bit hesitant to continue. I think a life of happiness is always an uphill battle, but I put a lot of pressure on myself to be okay. I mean, everyone else seems to be doing pretty okay right now despite their personal spoon hell, so why should I give myself wiggle room? 

And there's the problem. It's so hard to have a bad day. I often just keep it to myself. Some days I won't get up or act like a normal human being at all-- I'll cancel all my outings, ask a friend if I can see their notes from class later, then roll back over to stare poignantly at the gray dorm room wall and listen to the air conditioner chug-chug-chug until I fall back asleep. But then when asked how my day was, I'd just shrug and say "oh, well, it's happening. Haha, Mondays suck, amirite? Oh, it's Tuesday? That's like half-Monday." 

When really, I'd rather say something like "HAHA, OH MAN YEAH I DIDN'T GET OUT OF BED TILL THREE AND INSTEAD OF TAKING A SHOWER I JUST SPRAYED MY HAIR WITH DRY SHAMPOO AND PUT A HAT ON, THEN HAD SOME TAQUITOS BEFORE I STEPPED OVER THE GIANT LAUNDRY PILE TO ESCAPE TO THE DREARY OVERCAST CHILLY DAY AND HOPING I DON'T AWKWARDLY BUMP INTO A PROFESSOR OF THE CLASS I SKIPPED THAT MORNING." 

You see the laundry is a reoccurring theme. Ugh. I really need to do it. 

This morning I didn't get up for 7AM yoga, I didn't eat breakfast, but I made it to class. I answered an email. I didn't cancel a meeting I had this afternoon. It's the little things, you know? 

2:36. I got distracted again. 

If you take anything from this new post, take this: it's okay to not be okay. It's okay to have a bad day, or a bad week, or a bad month. It's okay to feel like you had or are having a bad semester or a bad year. But just know that the sun will still rise tomorrow (pending a destructive galactic catastrophe) and a new day will bring the potential for a better day. 

Note that I didn't say. "Tomorrow will be better!" or "It's always darkest before the dawn!" or "You have to eat a bowl of positivity at the wake of each new day to bring forth happiness and love into you life! Yay!" I said that each new day has the potential to be better. And you can't forget that potential. When I'm having a bad day, when I'm having a bad week, when I tell people I'm alright even though my insides are crawling like a cat trying to escape a bag, when I feel like every step forward results in two steps back, and time warps around me to suggest that life, indeed, wants to see me fail, I still remember that tomorrow could be better. 

Think of it as a permanent weather forecast: a 50% chance of rain, but also a 50% chance of sunny with a chance of spoons. 

I have to head to that meeting soon, but I'll leave you with a poem that I often think about sometimes. What does happiness mean to you? What does success mean? 


"A Good Day" 
Kait Rokowski

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries,
took the bus home,
carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment
and cooked myself dinner.
You and I may have different definitions of a good day.
This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill,
worked 60 hours between my two jobs,
only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks
and slept like a rock.
Flossed in the morning,
locked my door,
and remembered to buy eggs.
My mother is proud of me.
It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.
She doesn’t combat topics like, ”My daughter got into Yale”
with, ”Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs”
But she is proud.
See, she remembers what came before this.
The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles,
how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.
She thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.
These were the bad days.
My life was a gift that I wanted to return.
My head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.
Depression, is a good lover.
So attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.
And it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,
That the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.
It is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.
Today, I slept in until 10,
cleaned every dish I own,
fought with the bank,
took care of paperwork.
You and I might have different definitions of adulthood.
I don’t work for salary, I didn’t graduate from college,
but I don’t speak for others anymore,
and I don’t regret anything I can’t genuinely apologize for.
And my mother is proud of me.
I burned down a house of depression,
I painted over murals of greyscale,
and it was hard to rewrite my life into one I wanted to live
But today, I want to live.
I didn’t salivate over sharp knives,
or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.
I just cleaned my bathroom,
did the laundry,
called my brother.
Told him, “it was a good day.”

Flightless Bird Buys a Private Jet

Good morning, world!

As I write this, I'm sitting in my campus Starbucks with my earbuds in. I got here early, so I snagged the corner table (giving me ample space to people watch and "study"). I got up at about 6:30 this morning, with the thought of working out, but that was raincheck'd to this evening on account of my workout partner/wife Rachel not being able to sleep. So, instead of rolling over and going back to bed, I stayed up, made breakfast, coffee, painted the nails on my other hand, got my things together, and trekked across campus to Starbucks.

Three months ago this would have been an impossible task. Why?

I never really talked about my struggles on my blog (I struggled to even tell my parents-- hi mom!) but in the process of recovery I've discovered that the best policy is to be open. A lot of people feel uncomfortable talking about mental illness, and its prevalence on college campuses (hubs of anxiety) is often overlooked by many. It was overlooked by me, too.

My struggles started freshman year, spring semester. All the excitement and hope I rolled into college with seemed to disappear. At the same time, every misstep or mistake seemed amplified in an auditorium of anxiety. It was if life had been covered by a foggy veil with sharp edges. I didn't want to get out of bed. I never wanted to kill myself, but I simply wish I'd never existed. It was a very dark time for me. That was my first tango with medication and therapy-- I tried one medication over spring break and reacted so poorly to it that I swore I'd never try again, and that I could handle all my problems by myself. I didn't like my therapist, so I didn't go back to therapy. No one ever talks about therapy, so I'm going to tell you a "secret": it's okay to go through many therapists until you find one you like. My first therapist wanted to delve into my childhood to find the root of my issues, while I wanted to take steps to handle my anxiety that made every day life hard.

I had bursts of energy that made me feel like I was getting better. I'm not depressed, I told myself. I'm just a girl struggling in college! That summer I spent in Florida, and things seemed to be getting better. Fall semester, things weren't so bad, but as Spring semester came around again...

Bam. It hits you, but instead of feeling like a punch, it feels like being smothered by tons of something soft. Like cotton. Tons of cottons smothering you. I remember telling a friend that I didn't want to be depressed. No one wants to. You hear the ads on the radio for medicine proven to help those who feel "the blues." Depression isn't the blues, it's not overwhelming sadness. It's nothing. It's a void of emotion. And for me, depression was always feeling tired, like every conversation was a forced act. It felt very fake, and it was very frustrating. For that semester I avoided the solutions I tried previously and roughed it. I wouldn't recommend it.

This past fall semester (2015), I felt things get better at the beginning of the semester. But from there, it was a steady track downwards that I only noticed after the semester ended. After a crescendo of  emotional warfare at the end of the semester, I put my foot down: I had a problem. I needed a solution. I can't be 100% Mackenzie until I face the truth.

That's when I went back to therapy, and opened up. I went to my family practitioner and told her I was ready to try medication again. It was a very emotional few weeks.

My medication doesn't make me happy. That's not the point. I told my current therapist (her name is Carolyn and she's the physical embodiment of a warm cup of tea on a cold day) that I could get up in the morning. I cleaned when things got messy. I wasn't always just tired. She told me that was living. Living normally is easier. And that's exactly what I feel: normal.

I've never been so happy to be normal in my life. 

I still drink too much coffee, I still procrastinate, I still forget everything I don't write down, but that's normal for me. The change is that I'm not perpetually tired. I'm rethinking my goals and trying to not make big plans in the heat of the moment, but rather lay the groundwork for my future. I'm thinking about things I struggle with and working towards realistic solutions; I truly feel like a budding manager. How can I manage others when I can't manage myself?

It's been a very interesting journey, and a journey that I want to be open about. No one should struggle with mental illness alone! Reach out, speak up, even if it's just a whisper. Treat it like a physical wound-- it needs love and care! You wouldn't walk on a broken leg, would you?

Anyway. Enough about that. I have more big news!

I'm not going to Pilsen anymore! Yeah, I know, I've been talking about it for months. It was a tough decision.

I'm going to be spending Fall semester (September to December) in China, so I'm taking my last free summer as a student to chill out in preparation for months abroad. That means I'll probably be bouncing in between Tennessee and Florida! I'm very excited.

After that, I'll be coming back to the good ol' UoMemphis to graduate in the Spring of 2017. And then I'll be.... graduated. Ugh. Such a scary, exciting thing! Woo!!

Classes are going really great here, as well. I like all of them and find them all very interesting. I'm taking Chinese, Japanese, Game Theory and Strategic Analysis, and a thematic studies course on Chinese demographics and geography! AHHH SO EXCITING!

I'm also trying to start reading a lot more-- if you have any recommendations, please pass them on to me! Movie suggestions, TV shows... I have FREE TIME now! It's amazing-- is this what being a freshman is like??

Anyway, here are a handful of pictures!

A visit to Knoxville yielded some great views: this is the view of the University of Tennessee at Knoxville campus from the World Fair Sunsphere. Apparently there's a restaurant housed a few floors up as well!

Another very fun part of Knoxville-- the art museum conveniently located right next to the Sunsphere!

And who else would I run into?? While at Kroger for groceries (we made curry that night) I run into this beautiful girl!! This is Madison, one of the fellow students who also went to China with me!!

Also got to see this amazing, very interesting show. I really enjoyed most of it!

I just like this picture because I love the flowers. Unfortunately, they are dead and I have to throw them out today. :-( Alas!

trips to the campus starbucks always yields very funny spellings of my name!

real-life actual picture of me falling asleep while hard at work...

And finally, the bird herself! This is the every day look for me. I love beanies.

can we all freak out about the weather??

my attitude for the rest of the semester. out of my control? don't worry about it.

New Year-- New Blog! Nah, just kidding.

So, uh, happy new years, right? 

Maybe this should be a 2015 wrap-up with highlighting pictures, memories, and stuff like that, but to be honest, I'm ready to leave 2015 behind. Suuuuure I had a lot of fun, but for the most part, it was really insane. From another tough spring semester at school, to spending the most stressful (and the most fun) two months as a summer intern in DC, to having another stressful semester at the good ol' UoM, and then a crescendo of what-else-could-go-wrong at the end of the year, capped with a trip to Florida! The reason for my long absence from my blog is that I was simply in such a bad place that I really forgot it existed. Whoops! 

I guess I could go through what I've learned in 2015, some of the biggest struggles I've had this year, and some goals I have for 2016. 

2015 was a year of change for Mackenzie Clark. I started off the year with an application for The Fund for American Studies, which is an academic internship program in Washington D.C. I remember discovering it almost by accident, through my advisor. I remember listening to Frank Sinatra's "New York" when I wrote my essays for my application. I actually referenced that in a closing letter, which DCInternships was kind enough to use for "#TestimonialTuesday." See below.

But things changed really fast in DC. There were people there who had already graduated and were looking for jobs. People who spent every second studying the city, studying politics, studying the world. I got overwhelmed really fast and fell prey to something called "Imposter Syndrome." If you don't know, it means that you're convinced you're something less than what your achievements are. I got into the same rigorous program as all those other kids, but I quickly felt dwarfed by their knowledge and passion. Between that and my less-than-stellar internship (to be fair, I did learn a lot from it), I was very stressed out. I spent a lot of weekends under the monuments at 2 in the morning with a giant slurpee, trying to figure out my life with a few others.

And it was there, among the mosquitoes and humidity of the District, I made a decision for myself: I was going to do what I wanted, and I was going to try to stop living my life pleasing others. 

This had some good and bad effects. 

Good effects: super motivated, big plans, big dreams, super positive, good at judging what's good, what's bad, etc. 

Bad effects: holy STRESS! WOW! WOW! WOW! 

So I skidded from D.C. into Memphis with big ideas, a rough idea for some applications, and a shaky direction I wanted my life to go. I also subjected myself, with fierce positivity, to a very long distance relationship and a head position at a pretty great club at college. 

Both of those ended this semester! 

So at 17 hours (I say 17 because it sounds impressive-- actually, 2 of those hours were yoga, but it was a more intensive class than you'd realize. Ever try an hour of yoga after an all-nighter?)  and a club that was pulling a ton of events, and a boyfriend about a thousand miles away, you can imagine things got... difficult. 

While I did make it out of the semester with a great GPA and more or less emotional kind-of-okay, I was suddenly single (I think the reason I was so upset is that for the first time ever, I was dumped. It's really weird when you really, really like someone, and over the course of a few days, things go from all smiles and hearts to "I think no matter what we do, things won't work out ever soooo bye." but enough about that!) and facing a real-life series of unfortunate events (even worse than the live-action movie-- here's to hoping Netflix can fix that) I threw myself into a swirling vortex of happiness projecting outwards in hope that some of it would reflect back, and like a flower in the sun, I could find myself blossoming, even in the winter. 

It went pretty well. I was honest with others with how much I was struggling (which, as a perfectionist [I hate calling myself that], is a bit hard) and invited others to join in my positivity. I found a lot of pug pictures, I sent out almost 50 holiday cards to friends near and far, and did some gift exchanges. Before I left school, I met with a therapist (kill the stigma! everyone should go to therapy! it's not a bad thing!) and made plans with her to meet regularly through next semester to make sure I keep my stress levels in check. I'm only signed up for 12 hours (4 classes) next semester. I'm not honors president anymore. I'm making plans to go more places. I want to visit my friends and family more, whether that's at home, Nashville, Knoxville, or Huntsville.

In short, I want to make 2016 even more about doing what I want to do, except this time doing it right. I want to do fewer things with more defined passion. I want to see a bit more of the world, and a bit more of the states. I want to be spontaneous, and viciously chop down the walls of my comfort zone with a two-handed axe named Dreamer. 

For so long I've kept my thoughts to myself. This years, it's time to let them out. You know, living is the longest thing you'll ever do. Might as well do it right. I'm not really making any resolutions, but I want to just be happy this year. 

Picture time!

This was on a sundial at Harding University. I just love it and I want one similar to this in my backyard someday. 

This could be a good motto for 2015, actually. 

Each of these pizza slices represents one of the 8 cousins. I am pizza slice number 5!

Me in 2016, looking back on the struggles of 2015. 

LOL 

This spoke to me an a very deep level about the failed relationship of Fall 2015. :P

My favorite Christmas presents: a squid hat and a giant, circular panda. 

This is me discovering that all I really need in life is cute pants, good snacks, funny movies, and a comfy bed. 

I'd like to live somewhere that looks like this someday.

See above caption.

Gorgeous. LIKE MY OUTLOOK ON 2016.

Flawless.

Products of one of my gift exchanges: a giant shark.

M for Mackenzie, M for Magnificent, and M for a year focused on ME. 

The Golden Age (No Time)

To Do List

1. Play catch-up in Japanese
2. Play catch-up for Yoga assignments
3. Review Chinese notecards
4. Decide Thesis topic
5. Find a faculty advisor
6. Begin the research process
7. Start MGMT paper (tie it in with thesis)
8. Begin review for history midterm
9. Actually do the history midterm
10. Do the history online questions + readings + movie 
11. Meet with advisor again
12. Meet with study abroad advisor again
13. Unpack, eat, sleep, etc.

How did it get so late so soon? Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?
                                                                                    - Dr. Seuss