That I Can't Stop Talking About the Olympics

The following quote is what I said to anyone and everyone who would or would not listen to me today. I just could not stop talking about the London Olympics. 

"And there was James Bond with the Queen jumping out of a helicopter and then they had agrarian and industrial revolution dances and then they celebrated their healthcare and children's british literature and kids danced on hospital beds and J.K. Rowling read Peter Pan and THEN it was a nightmare and there was the Queen of Hearts and Captain Hook AND a hundred foot tall Lord Voldemort with a wand that shot sparks BUT THEN hundreds of Mary Poppins came down from the sky and defeated him and tucked the kids into bed and then there was a modern love story dance sequence and they were at a club and had a house party and there was popular British music and there was fireworks and flying light up winged bicycles and Paul McCartney and and...IT WAS SO GOOD!"


And that's when my coworker asked if I went on an acid trip last night. For those of you who saw the ceremony, you know that I didn't and you understand where my childlike excitement is coming from. For those of you who didn't see it, it's very important that you read this blog post.

The Queen and Bond

Alright. Let's talk about this opening ceremony. It began with the most bad ass entry of the Queen ever. That's right. Queen Elizabeth, bad ass. Daniel Craig (AKA James Bond) entered the castle where he met our lovely Lizzie and her corgis. The two were seen on the big screen movie entering a helicopter and flying over London landmarks. Next, a helicopter entered the arena and the queen was seen jumping out to the Bond theme song under a Union Flag parachute (it wasn't actually her, but we can pretend). SO COOL, right? So after that beginning how can you not love the London 2012 Olympics already? But don't worry, there is SO MUCH MORE.

Voldemort and Poppins

So next, we're going to take a little trip through Great Britain history. We get to see the agrarian era, which is complete with grassy hillsides and lovely scenery. Next, we are transformed into the industrial revolution. We were shown actors depicting the industrial revolution through mining and factory jobs. Additionally, my sources (American announcers on NBC) tell me that sulfur was pumped into the stadium to fully recreate the vision, sound and scent of the revolution. Next we move into what I deem to be the best part of the ceremony, an act called "Second Star to the Right". This title is representative of the British children's story, Peter Pan. This act was created to celebrate the British National Health care System as well as British Children's literature. It begins with children dancing in pajamas on hospital beds as doctors and nurses do the same around them (fun fact: apparently these were real doctors and nurses!). The upbeat music fades and the children fall asleep, drifting in to dreamland. Cue J.K. Rowling reading an excerpt from Peter Pan. Suddenly, the peaceful dreamland shifts into a nightmare. We are shown classic villains from British literature such as The Queen of Hearts, Captain Hook and Lord Voldemort. Don't worry, they are soon defeated by hundreds of Mary Poppins descending from the sky and crushing evil before tucking the children into bed.

Next, Britain celebrates the newest era, the technology era. This includes a modern love story of a boy and a girl set in a club to a slew of popular British songs from the last fifty or so years. The inventor of the world wide web, Sir Timothy Berners Lee, is there to assist in the celebration. Personally, I had never heard of the man and didn't know he was British so kudos to Danny Boyle for giving him his moment in the spotlight. These various acts of the opening brought together generations. Me? I loved it because it included Harry Potter, Peter Pan and Mary Poppins (hey there childhood!). It also included the soundtrack to another generation, the songs my parents grew up with through the 60's to the present day. From James Bond, Queen Elizabeth, and Paul McCartney to clubbing, J.K. Rowling and the world wide web the London 2012 Opening Ceremony united countries around the world and generations of time.


Cue the Parade of Nations. Some will say that this takes far too long and they wish the United States wasn't so far in. Personally, I love to watch it all. I love to see every country acknowledged and given their moment to shine. You get to hear of countries you have never heard of, you learn interesting facts about each nation and it's interesting to compare the number of athletes from each country. Great Britain has 557 and the United States has 534. Many nations only have two. My favorite part of the Parade of Nations though is watching the athletes. Every athlete, no matter their home nation looks excited and proud. Many of them are walking with their cameras, filming the arena and the entire thing. Think about it. Thousands of people are filming them saying "Wow, look at these amazing athletes" but these athletes are just normal people who are filming this event thinking "Wow, I can't believe I get to be here doing this." It's very cool to see. On another note, the Americans did not look American. They wore Ralph Lauren outfits (which were made in China) that included blue blazers, berets, scarves and pleated white skirts/pants. It was definitely a new look for Americans. The Brits, of course, looked awesome and they knew it. Good for them!

Now, let's talk about David Bekham. We saw the ever handsome, well dressed, man (who I MAY have to seduce away from Victoria and his children) riding down the Thames looking more attractive than ever. Bekham gave the torch to a past Olympic athlete, who carried it off before giving it off to the next generation of British Olympic athletes. This was great and very symbolic. These young athletes lit the cauldron, which then rose in a very cool manner. Fireworks were ignited. I love fireworks (plus, I didn't get any for the fourth of July this year). Paul McCartney sings "Hey Jude", encouraging the entire arena to join in. The athletes are seen singing, smiling, laughing. The curtain drops, welcome to the London Olympics 2012. 

Just look at him. That smile, the face, the suit. Swoon.

Note: I'm watching the Olympics as I write this post, which is very distracting. Lochte just DOMINATED. 

So now we've learned that London and all things British will always have my heart and that the Olympics are badass. Let's go a little bit further.

The Olympics originated from Greece, as an ancient tradition. It is said that Hercules and Zeus were the creators. These games involved fighting, chariot racing and athletic events. This ancient tale inspired the creation of the modern Olympics. The first games were held in 1896 in none other than their home city of Athens. London had the honor this year of becoming the first city to host three Olympics. They hosted in 1908 and in 1948. 1948 was an important year as it was the first Olympics held after World War II. London had won the Olympics in 1944 but the events were canceled due to World War II. In 1948, Germany and Japan were not invited because of the trouble they had caused during the war. Is this fair? I say, it's not. The Olympics are historically a time for all the nations of the world to join together to compete and demonstrate their talents. Apparently, not everyone agrees with me. Besides the exclusions of Germany and Japan after World War II, South Africa was never allowed to participate in the Olympics while they were under an apartheid. Presently, countries all seem to be able to participate but that doesn't mean we're going to recognize them. As someone who was fully attentive as the announcers discussed each nation, I noticed when they didn't. The American broadcaster of the Olympics, NBC, blatantly did not acknowledge Palestine. As Palestine appeared on my TV screen, the announcers continued to talk about the previous nation and then skipped straight to the following one, completely denying Palestine any acknowledgement. I know that there are politics behind this but personally, I feel that it was wrong. The Olympics isn't about politics, it's about sport and sportsmanship. No matter what their nation, these athletes are athletes. Palestinian athletes are doing the same thing as American, British and Australian athletes. They are playing a sport and they deserve the same respect as the others. History has shown us how cruel of a place the world can be but the Olympics are a time of pride, respect and excitement. Let's remember that the Olympics is a time for cheering for and supporting your team, your athletes and your country--not for demeaning and breaking down others.

Also, swimming is one of my favorite sports to watch and the men are some of the most attractive and after watching their Call Me Maybe dance video, I'm even more obsessed. So everyone needs to see this video! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YPIA7mpm1wU

Shout out to Mr. Hayden van Andel for suggesting History Education Major Me incorporate historical context into my posts, which I am testing out with this one! And for putting up with me talking about the Olympics ALL DAY. 

That Being An Adult Isn't Always Fun

When I was in tenth grade, I was in both Journalism and Yearbook. I was ecstatic to be in both of these classes. However, they both required that I sell ads in order to get a good grade. This, I was not so thrilled about. Talking on the phone with people--strangers--was not something I was good at. Formal, business like things? I was fifteen! I avoided it for as long as I could but then I had to get started if I wanted to get a good grade, which if you know me, you know I did. I decided to make my first ad phone call at 9:00 at night, figuring that businesses close at 5:00 and I could leave a message. Fifteen year old me deemed this to be a good plan and was shocked when the man answered the phone--I had not been expecting that. So I hung up. I didn't say a word and just pressed a shaky finger to the 'end call' button out of pure terror.

In the years since then, I've done a lot of growing up. I got my license and a car. I could drive wherever I want. I entered the wonderful of the workforce which meant a full bank account and a debit card at my disposal. I could buy junk food, new shoes and movie tickets whenever I wanted! This year, I turned eighteen and like every person ever, I proudly stated that I was an adult! I made a list of all the things I could do now that I couldn't do before. I obnoxiously vocalized the idea that I could do whatever I wanted now that I was eighteen (not true by the way), and as a birthday hoorah I went clubbing for the first time. What fun it was to be an adult!

But alas, being an adult isn't all fun and games. This summer I have started to see that there is more to being an adult than working, driving and going clubbing. Today I went to the post office. I put my health forms in the mail on their way to BU. I had to go to the doctor to get those health forms filled out, which is something I hate and therefore deem very adult like. After putting those in the mail, I got in line and waited patiently for my turn. I finally reached the front of the line and told the worker that I needed to renew my passport only to learn that my local post office no longer does passports and that I will have to spend one of my rare days off driving an hour to the closest place that does. Cue the big adult sigh here. But wait! But this is only the beginning...(of both my day and my adult life)

I get home and I make myself lunch. I have a smoothie and a sandwich with sprouts AND tomatoes because well, I'm an adult and adults eat healthy (haha, as if I eat healthy--hello cookies, carbs and coca-cola!). I take a moment to check my Financial Account on the BU student link only to see that *sigh* yet another day has gone by and the amount remains the same. I've been checking everyday for a week to see if my local scholarships have credited to my account and they have not. This can only mean one thing. That I have to call the Office of Financial Aid. Flash back to my tenth grade self having to make phone calls I don't want to make. I will say that this is something I've gotten better at since then. I'm an adult and that means I do things like go to the bank and the doctor and don't hang up on people when I make phone calls. However, it still isn't a task I ever look forward to. I realize that this is an activity that I can't avoid. I have to sort the situation out because I can't afford not to. So I call. and the line is busy. So I keep calling until I don't get a busy signal (hooray!) but then I get placed on hold (boo). I suck it up and wait on hold. Thirty minutes later, I'm still on hold and I have to go to work, forcing me to hang up the phone and lose any progress I made in the last thirty minutes. I didn't let this deter me though. I was going to get through to these people if it killed me. My bill is due in a week and a half and I can't let this wait any longer. I have the determination of an olympic athlete and my sport is patiently waiting on hold to make a phone call I don't want to make. I know, you're impressed. Just go ahead and give me the gold medal now.

Guys, I'm the Ryan Lochte of phone calls.
I've come so far since 10th grade!

So I spend my break at work constantly redialing until I get put through onto the line. I'm starting to lose hope when...GASP....I get a ring! I'm being put through! I'm going to make it! I'm...on hold. Hold is as far as I've gotten on this mission since this morning so I'll take what I can get. Fifteen minutes later and a man picks up. A human voice! I did it! Victory! Alright, so the process was painful and long. I detested it before I did it and I detested it while I was doing it. Not only is the actual phone call and getting through the busy line something I hate, I hate having to be an adult and figure out things like my finances. When did I get finances?! Luckily for me, everyone at BU is very nice when you finally get ahold of somebody. I explained my situation and got the answers to the questions I had. They weren't the answers I was hoping for and they made my life a little bit more difficult but it was a step in the right direction. It now means changing some plans, rearranging some things and making even more phone calls. But as I've learned, these are all parts of being an adult. If I want to drive a car, work, and go to college I have business to take care of. I don't think things such as phone calls, bank deposits and doctors visits are things that anybody really wants to do but we do them anyway, because we're adults and adults have to do things that they don't want to sometimes. For me, I just keep in mind the great parts of growing up  so that I can get through the not-so-great parts. My greatest motivator right now is of course BU and college in general. I'll trade a few phone calls and post office trips for the most exciting experience of a lifetime any day.

About Accepting My Indulgences

Alright, I have a confession. I, Mackenzie Morgan, am a shopaholic. Simply put, I love to shop. I love clothes...shoes...dresses...jackets. I love the sight of a full closet. I love all of these things.

Now, let me take a moment to explain something. I'm a very disciplined and controlled person. Everything I do is very intentional, and very thought out. Each of my actions has a desired result but I've also run over all of the other possible outcomes in my overworking mind. I run a hard ship and I don't let myself slip up on work, studying or any other commitment. I have a lot of self control. I sacrifice sleep for study, I decline socializing for work, and I don't let most of life's frivolous things get to me...except all of that self-discipline in other areas of my life had to leak out somewhere eventually. If I'm Superman, shopping is my kryptonite. I use seven different calendars, and that isn't an exaggerated number. I have an entire notebook of to do lists. I plan every moment, of every day. This is why I find myself completely baffled on days like today when I go to get a passport photo and I come home with bags full of new clothes. How did that happen?

I am the race car of shopping. I can go from $0-$300 in an hour. Impressive, right? Picture this:

• You know what you need. You need a purse. You're not going to buy anything else. You're not even going to look at anything else, all you need is a purse. A quick survey of the purses reveals that they don't have what you're looking for. A sad sigh and you walk towards the exit. Why do they put the purses all the way at the back? A cute coat catches your eye. You know, you've actually been needing a new coat...you decide to just take a quick look. The coat is 60% off! When are you going to find such a good deal again? You reluctantly decide to just try it on. It's the perfect fit, it's warm, it's comfortable..."That looks wonderful on you," the sales lady interrupts. She's being so friendly...you can't shut her down now. Alright, you give in. You'll buy the coat, and you'll look fabulous. 

These turbo powered shopping trips I find myself on tend to take their toll. Not simply on my bank account, but on my emotions. I prance up to the register feeling on top of the world. As I slide my debit card I immediately feel regret. "I shouldn't have done that," I sigh to myself guiltily. I survey the damage and I realize that I have all the receipts and all of the tags are still on the items. I can return this all, it will be like it never happened. In reality, I don't want to return any of it. I realize that I like these things and that I wanted them, so why am I beating myself up over buying them?

My mind seems to have this negative connotation associated with spending money. It doesn't matter what it's spent on, it's my instinct to get a sick feeling when I do. But why? I'm not spending money I don't have, and I'm not spending money that's not mine. I'm spending the money that I worked hard for and it's money that I can afford to spend. Sure, it means I will have less money in my bank account but ultimately, it just means that I will be able to spend a little less money later. I work hard, and I should be able to let go every once in a while. If letting go for me means splurging on some new clothes, then so be it. When I look good, I feel good, and that is when the magic happens. My shopping sprees empower me to show the world who I am, in school, work and play. My clothes are important to me and they help me express my individuality and show my identity. I know they aren't necessary, but they make me happy. Is that so bad?

"You know that thing when you see someone cute and he smiles and your heart kind of goes like warm butter sliding down hot toast? Well that's what it's like when I see a store. Only it's better." -Rebecca Bloomwood, Confessions of a Shopaholic

About Finding My Rhythm

Singing in my car along to all my favorite songs is one of my favorite things to do, but only when the music is loud enough that I can't hear myself. Simply put, I'm not a singer. I tend to speak the lyrics instead of sing them, I lack rhythm. I've been told this by multiple people and those comments put the seed into my head and sprouted its roots, making me too self conscious to ever let anybody hear me sing, even if it is just in the car along to the radio. The other night as I drove a friend home, a classic song came on and we both started singing along to it. After the song ended I laughed and apologized for my terrible singing voice, explaining that I don't have any rhythm and using that as my excuse. He shrugged it off and told me that all I needed to do was practice and that I would find my own rhythm along the way.

This message struck me in more ways than one. I decided to take it both literally and figuratively. Today, as I drove around town running errands I decided to give it a shot. I decided to practice my singing with the music at a volume that allowed me to hear myself. At first, it felt a little strange and I cringed at the sound of my own voice. However, after a few songs I began to sound better, or maybe I just began to feel more comfortable. I felt like I was really singing, and not just speaking. I felt like I had found my rhythm.

To parallel this, I feel like I have found my rhythm in life lately. I could call it a lot of things--rhythm, niche, place--simply put it relates to what makes me happy. This summer has been one of self loving and self discovery and it is exactly what I have been needing. I've spent time with people I love and stopped worrying about those who aren't worth it. I've worked like crazy and enjoyed feeling close to the people I spend my days with and savored the feeling of purpose and hard work. Recently, I've discovered a lot of things that make my heart soar and on the top of that list is Boston University.

Boston University is the next verse in my song and it feels as if the rhythm of my life flows there without missing a beat--I made the right choice. Being able to say that makes me proud, because it wouldn't have been achieved if I hadn't worked hard and never given up on my dreams. I applied to ten schools which were scattered from Boston, to Denver, to Seattle. I could have ended up anywhere, studying anything, but in the end I'm going to BU and I know that if I'm Cinderella, it's the glass slipper, It's the window to my dreams and my fairy tale ending. I visited Boston for the first time when I was eleven years old and my loquacious, blonde, ever-confident self firmly stated "I'm going to live here when I grow up". Nothing is more exciting to me than seeing myself reach that dream, and eleven year old me--as well as eighteen year old me--couldn't be prouder (or more excited to be a Red Sox fan and a Terrier!). I think that this is all part of finding my own personal rhythm. Knowing that I worked hard and got where I wanted, knowing that I made the right decision and knowing that I'm marching to the beat of my own drum in whichever direction I choose--because I can.

We all have the option in life to turn up the music louder to block out our sound because somebody else told us to. We can listen to the voices that we already know are good and be too embarrassed to let our own be heard. Or, we can break free. We can turn down the volume of all of those who bring us down and find our own rhythm, belting it out for the world to hear.

As the wise Dr. Suess once said: "You've got brains in your head and feet in your shoes, you can steer yourself in whatever direction you choose!"