it's my best day ever.

February 23, 2011

The same boss, who asks me every Monday morning if I've fallen in love over the weekend,
Who wears a little top hat and sweater every day to work (despite the temperature outdoors)
Has definitely fallen onto the list of my favorite people, ever.

Every afternoon when I first greet him by asking how his day is going, he replies:
"Oh it's my best day ever."

In fact,
I don't think there's been one day in the past year and a half of working here, that he hasn't told me it was his best day ever.

(with only one exception, and that was when he came into work with a black eye - but according to him that morning, it was his "second best day ever.")

And honestly? I love it. Do you remember when you were little and you'd hear a phrase and it sounded so cool so you wanted to start using it all the time?
(think: i don't grow up, i throw up, and when you see it, you lick it up, because you think it's 7up)

Third grade? I know.

But I also know that whenever I hear "it's my best day ever," I start to feel like it's my best day ever, too.

So I decided it's about time I start saying it.

Who knew a part time job could be so great?

7up girls.

February 17, 2011

I used to call myself a 7up girl (hence the name 7upkels) - and I usually forget about those days until someone brings it up. Whenever they do, mind you, the 7up girls are usually an easy target for a joke (and I have to admit, I understand why) but back when the 7up girls were in full swing, I was most definitely a part of it.

And we made notebooks.

That's all you really need to know, because truthfully, I think that's what we were best known for. These notebooks were filled with a lot of things, but mainly, they documented most of our memories. Things like "Our Crushes," "Our Favorite Songs," or even "7up girl quotes" -- (easy targets for an easy joke becomes painfully obvious right about now) -- really, the notebooks were full of silly things like that. But the one thing I look back on and am still completely amused by, was our time line. I think that's my favorite.

The time line was a pretty simple way of documenting the simple adventures of high school. It consisted of only the most noteworthy events that took place in our lives, and these were just a few:

Kelsie has drivers ed with Austin Pritchett
Sara gets over Zac Fox
Cassie goes to Sadies with Chris
7up Girl meeting held in Kelsie's backyard - a lot was covered.

Riveting, I know.

But honestly, the more I thought about it tonight as I reminisced with old friends, the more I realized that if I were to document my own life on a time line right now, it would look completely different. I forget about that cute boy in class by the time I walk out of it. I don't think about the football games I go to, or write down about lunch when all the 7upgirls are back together, (in fact, getting everyone together is about the hardest thing in the world these days anyway). Actually, looking at the closest thing that resembles a time line, my past journal entries make me sound like I've turned into an old woman, always going to bed early and staying up late on weekends to study. What has become of me?

Yes, I'm excited about my future, especially as a broadcast journalism major (and yes, I can officially say that now!) the traveling, internships, relationships, and all that's yet to come... But I almost miss the days when I didn't worry about those days: when I was excited about drivers ed with Austin Pritchett, even if it was at 6:30 in the blessed a.m.

But only just a little.


February 16, 2011

I'm not old enough to play baseball or football. I'm not eight yet. My mom told me when you start baseball, you aren't going to be able to run that fast because you had an operation. I told Mom I wouldn't need to run that fast. When I play baseball, I'll just hit them out of the park. Then I'll be able to walk.
-Edward J. McGrath, Jr

When I began college, there were things I was afraid of trying because I was afraid of failing. But about a year or so ago, I changed my major (debated on changing schools) because after three years of being "comfortable" with what I was doing, I wanted to challenge myself to try something I loved even more -- even if that meant risking failure (and an extra year or two of school). I was stressed. Stressed, anxious and to be honest, doubtful. I had to rearrange my plans for graduation, I had to switch over to an entirely new class load and become familiar with a whole new curriculum.
Yes, doubtful is the right word. And stressed.

A few weeks ago, after completing the prerequisite courses and working on a lot of other projects, interviews, essays and assignments for this field, I finally finished. This meant that all I had to do for the next few weeks was wait. Even then, I would ask myself over and over, "Why? Why? Why?" - I wondered what I'd do if I didn't get in and what that would mean... (another 18 years of college, I convinced myself). In a nutshell, why was I brave enough to risk so much?

Well, I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach -- today was the day I would receive my letter. I almost tripped out the door in a rush to open the envelope and read the verdict:

I was accepted. I nearly fainted, but instead I just cried (luckily no one was around). And when I arrived to class (fifteen minutes late) a friend pulled out the story above (about the boy playing baseball) for me to read on his computer.

It was all so fitting.

And to be honest, I've never been so happy with an accomplishment. Even my first kiss didn't feel this good.

So naturally, I thought I'd blog about it.
Because today is such a good day,
And because today I'm so unbelievably glad and grateful I tried.

(ps. turns out i won't be 40 when i graduate after all!)

you're the apple of my eye

February 14, 2011

Considering 70% of my posts have something to do with love, it shouldn't be surprising that it's something I probably think about more often than not -- Valentines Day is obviously no exception.

I've heard love defined by many people in many different ways, and I guess that makes sense because the way I've defined love has changed from the time I was fifteen, or eighteen, and even now at twenty-one. Maybe it's because love will always mean more to me the next year, than it did the year before.

But out of all the different ways I've thought about love, or have been told about love, the following idea about the words "I love you" has always made the most sense to me:

Because love is as much a verb as it is a noun, the phrase “I love you” is much more a promise of behavior and commitment than it is an expression of can’t “fall out of love,” because love is something you decide.-Elder Lynn G. Robbins, "Agency & Love in Marriage"

I think this is perfect.
It means that love isn't fleeting, temporary or even conditional. It means that when things get hard or when I have gray hair, love won't somehow disappear. Those words don't just mean fireworks or boxes of chocolate. They promise something. In fact, they promise a lot. They promise that at the end of the day, things will always be okay. That love is going to take work, but that it is something we will make work day after day. That love is going to be about taking care of each other, even if that means doing things you really don't like to do, (and for me that will probably mean being willing to make something for dinner other than turkey and cheese sandwiches.)

All of that is a lot greater than whatever I had originally imagined love to be at fifteen. Or eighteen.

But it's what I like to think love is at 21.

So for Valentines Day this year, I will spend my time with my mom and dad. And we will watch An Affair to Remember, and my mom will make fun of something dramatic the actress says, and my dad will clear his throat (because that's what he does instead of crying) when Kerry Grant realizes why she couldn't meet him at the top of the Empire State building.

And then my mom might dance during the credits (not unusual).

And then I will go to bed, eating the rest of my Forrero Rochers, thinking about how grateful I am for two parents who love me and who love each other. I'll think about how happy I am for my friends who have found love in their own life, and how excited I am for the love I am going to find one day, too.

(And then I will watch this engagement video over and over again,
because it's darling,

and because I want to copy cat it!)

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

photo via

if we drive all night we can make it by the morning.

February 10, 2011

california love. from Kelsie Christensen on Vimeo.

it's hard to believe that nearly six months ago i was driving to california leaving my summer behind. i made a mini movie (as usual) of the trip, except it's just about the longest video in the world -- but for the friends who were all a part of it, i thought they might find it kind of fun to see.

as for me, i'm kind of wanting to go back on vacation.
like, tomorrow.
especially considering the cold weather,
especially considering all 4 midterms that wiped me out this past week,
and especially especially considering the new car waiting outside for me. with a sunroof.

now i just need the sun.

why i love my mom.

February 8, 2011

It's not Mothers day, and it's not her birthday, but I still love my mom today.

And I'm so happy because she's coming into town on Thursday, and after emailing her some things we could possibly do while she's here, she responded with the following trip itinerary:

I would like to see some movies, go to the Spoken Word, go to The Chocolate, and Tuilie's Bakery, and the Beehive Tea Room, I would like to go see where you got the Matilda cake and put your note, I might like to go get sandwiches at that one place in Alpine. I would like to get the oven fixed and make a turkey dinner and bake some bread. I would like to go to Walmart and cry at the prices, I would like to go to the Clinique counter and get some face soap. I would like to go to Banana Republic, JCrew and Ann Taylor. That is all. Thank you very much.


My mom is fun,
And I am lucky.

valentines day homework.

February 4, 2011

In lieu of Valentines Day next week, my all-time favorite professor-ever-ever-ever-ever x 10 gave us this homework assignment:

Kiss somebody as if you had never kissed them before.

(I. About. Died.)

He reasoned that since he's at least 50 years our senior (he's 71) and probably has enough experience at this point to understand "a little bit more about life,"
he concluded with us in class that there is nothing more important than to experience what we all spend so much time reading and writing and talking about:
And that is love.

He quoted Mr. Cummings (kissing homework and ee cummings in one day? I almost fell off my chair)

And read the following:

i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart

i am never without it
anywhere i go
you go


Here is the deepest secret that nobody knows


And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart

i carry it in my heart

My heart nearly exploded.

And on my way out the door, I considered writing a letter to this professor just to tell him how much I love this class, and in a very important way,
how much more I love life thanks to him, too.

Because truthfully, I doubt I'll get around to kissing someone as if it were my first time this weekend, (my first real kiss kind of cursed my luck since age 15)

But the more I've thought about my 9:30 class yesterday morning, the more I realized that I left at 10:45 with a little bit more love for love.

And that was the perfect homework assignment for Valentines day.


February 1, 2011

Kylie and I wrote notes for our future husbands one afternoon as we ate the Matilda cake. After debating on what exactly we wanted to say, we stuffed the letters inside a book and placed it back on the shelf. We promised each other that when we met "the one" we'd take them back to the book, order another piece of cake, and then if we really knew with all of our hearts that we were in love, we'd read them our letters.

Months later, we listened to Christmas music too early and made caramel popcorn with new friends, and I thought that this might be just another one of those nights.

Except it wasn't. 10 days after she met him, I predicted they'd fall in love.

And I was right.

So she took him to the bookshelf,
ordered the Matilda cake and tea -
and she read him the letter.

So he gave her a ring.

And I always thought I'd be a happy/sad, because this meant things would be new -

But I surprised myself, because it's all just happy.

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