Haley+Emily+Courtney

Our good friend, Chloe, got married yesterday. It was like a high school reunion, as weddings sometimes are. For the most part, though, I got to spend time with my best friends, and that was an absolute joy. The wedding was seriously beautiful and I've never seen Chloe so happy, I'm serious. In other news, one of my best friends, Emily (middle), has been completely MIA the past six months of my life, and I'm not kidding, this was the first encounter I've had with her since January. And Haley on the left there, well, I hadn't seen her in a while, but we slept in the same bed the other night so that makes up for it, I guess.

Anyway,
I was thinking last night about how odd it is that time moves so quickly when you start to grow up. Like, Emily is applying to PT school this year and potentially moving to the midwest... WHAT IS THAT ABOUT?! And Haley is probably going to do cool things like be a doctor's wife and have a million babies and drive a big SUV. And then, there's me. I don't know what I'll do after college. My dad keeps making reference to a study abroad, he wants me to write for a travel agency, and it's clear he believes I can be important, but I'm just so unsure about everything in my life at the moment. I literally haven't the slightest idea what I'm doing with any of it. I always thought I'd follow in the blueprint footsteps of my siblings and it is taking a while for me to understand that I am my own person and that it's okay to do things a different way. Right?

The point is, the three of us used to be inseparable. We used to ditch school for lunch at Olive Garden. We'd also ditch school to study for AP Art History tests at Einstein's (which may or may not have been counterproductive) (there was probably too much ditching school). We'd alternate sleepovers in each other's basements and watch Gilmore Girls until all hours of the morning. Made Wendy's runs at 2 A.M. in the summertime. Walgreen's runs in the middle of the night to toilet paper our ex-boyfriends' houses (okay, just my ex-boyfriend). Lacrosse games that were often painful and aggravating, but also sometimes a little bit fun. And how can we forget about the dove chocolate+french bread+pepsi drives when it rained outside?

And now Emily's ruining it all by applying to PT school and promoting being an adult. It's annoying.

And he still calls me "Miss Merideth Grey"

"I remember watching Notting Hill with you that time, but I don't remember anything about the movie. I guess I should watch it again."
"Yeah. We should watch it again sometime. Wait, did you say 'I should watch it again sometime' or 'We should watch it again sometime'? Because I said we."
"I said I, but I want to change my answer now."

I had a feeling.

I have a feeling.

Merideth: I have... a feeling.
Cristina: You have a feeling?
Meredith: Yes.
Cristina: Okay. What kind of feeling?
Meredith: Like I might die.
Cristina: Today? Tomorrow? In fifty years? We're all gonna die eventually. Now we're late. Let's go!
Meredith: Cristina. Come on.
Cristina: Okay. This is me being supportive.
Meredith: Really.
Cristina: Yeah. Okay. Fine. I'm totally supportive. Go.
Meredith: Okay. The man I love... has a wife. And then he chooses her... over me. And that wife... takes my dog. Okay, she didn't take the dog... I gave it to her. But I didn't mean to give it to her; I meant to give it to him. But that does not change the fact that she has my McDreamy. And my McDog. She's got my McLife. And what have I got?
Do you know, I can't remember the last time we kissed? 'Cause you never think the last time's going to be the last time - you think there will be more. You think you have forever, but you don't.
Plus, my conditioner decided to stop working and I think I have brittle bones. I just - I just need something to happen. I need a sign that things are going to change. I need a reason to go on. I need some hope! And in the absence of hope, I need to stay in bed a feel like I might die today.


I don't feel like I might die today, but I do have a feeling about today. So, there's that.

P.S. my mom used to dress me in frilly socks and saddle shoes. Also, I've always loved dogs.

"I feel you in my knees."

The other day, I didn't feel pretty.

Today, in my denim shirt, I smeared Nutella on white bread, cut bananas over the top and watched Driving Miss Daisy. I felt the prettiest I've felt in weeks.


The other day, I had Sylvia Plath stuck in my head.

Today, I received a tight hug, made plans, remembered just how much I love those dimples, felt butterflies in my knees, and forgot about every heart break I've ever had.

Today, I wanted to tell the world how happy I was. Instead, I rolled down my windows on the freeway and smiled really big. Because I'm not about to blow this.

There are people as weird as me out there.

This is my new favorite human of life. And you think I'm kidding, but I'm not. Jayke Larson, I love you a mill. Only on rare occasions do I meet other humans who have identical personalities to my own. Thanks for being the easiest person to work with. Thanks for letting me sit on your lap upon first meeting and for literally being the coolest person in the entire world. I owe my life to you, gingaboiiiii. Peace, love, and A-A-Ron 4dayzzz. K let's get married now.

JK.

Also, I never want to forget this snap.

It's your tiny, ineffectual fists.

"It's not the chase."
"What?"
"You and me. It is not the thrill of the chase. It's not a game. It's... it's your tiny ineffectual fists. And your hair."
"My hair?"
"It smells nice. And you're very, very bossy. It keeps me in line."
"I'm still not going out with you."
"You say that now."

"Hey."

"Hey. You almost died today."

"Yeah, I almost died today."

"I can't, I can't remember our last kiss. All I could think about was, I'm going to die today and I can't remember our last kiss, which is pathetic. But the last time we were together and happy, I... want to be able remember that, and I can't Derek. I can't remember."

"I'm glad you didn't die today... It was a Thursday morning, you were wearing that ratty little "Dartmouth" T-shirt you look so good in, the one with the hole in the back of the neck. You'd just washed your hair and you smelled like some kind of... flower. I was running late for surgery. You said you were going to see me later, and you leaned to me, you put your hand on my chest and you kissed me. Soft. It was quick. Kind of like a habit. You know, like we'd do it everyday for the rest of our lives. And you went back to reading the newspaper and I went to work. That was the last time we kissed."

"Lavender. My hair smelled like lavender... from my conditioner."

"Lavender. Huh."

Shame on me for sometimes forgetting how good Grey's Anatomy is.

Things I know.

If you were wondering what I might taste like now, the answer is spearmint. And Diet Coke. 

I think this will be the answer always. 

And as for Mexican food? I still don't like it. 

The way to my heart is with candy. The person serious enough about me to want me forever (if he exists) could propose in a candy shop with a candy-gram and I'd say yes. Actually, come to think of it, this seems ideal. Just ask me in a room full of unlimited candy and I'll commit to eating jelly beans in bed beside you for the rest of my days.  

I have been fighting it for years, but I am going to admit something. I am a sappy, cheesy, spontaneous loving, bright-eyed romantic. Sorry if your world is shattered right now. 

A few weeks ago, I was getting out of the car, my hands completely occupied with odds and ends. A pen in my mouth, I fumble for the keys, brushing the gas cap with my hip as I pass. The lid of the thing juts out because my car is a '97 on its last leg and hardly in pristine condition. I push it back and without hearing the pop back into place, I walk away. Not a minute later, the fix returns to its previous glitch. The worst part is that even though I know it's a waste of time, I always try to fix it, anyway. I always  try to make it stay. It has recently come to my attention that I do that with a lot of things in my life. 

Exhausting, Fun, Youth. That's what that acronym really stands for.

Some good news: the week is over. 

Some better news: there's another one that begins tomorrow. 

Some medium news: I stole this picture from someone.

I am meeting the most fantastic people. They're funny. They understand the reference in my "Bluth's Frozen Bananas" T-Shirt. Also, they hipster-dance-like-they-don't-care with me when I find youth who are TC (too cool). And, I mean, I'm sweating constantly, walking back-and-forth between the cafeteria and the dorm rooms and yesterday, I had a girl throw up and, not going to lie, I was freaking out inside. But it's all well and good. I totally love my life. And EFY. If you couldn't already tell by my over-gramming on IG. 

And I just ordered my first pair of Saltwater Sandals. So, I'm pretty psyched out of my mind right now. But I'm running on 3 hours of sleep and I've got a few loads of laundry to do, so TTYL. 

We're all just having the best time. Wish you could be here. I SAID TTYL!!!!!!!

Today, I learned all about being a mom.

Today, I learned all about being a mom. 

Well, you just read that, now, didn't you?

I mean, I know, I know. Everyone knows that Courtney Lynne Kearns can hardly wait to hold her babies in her arms. Only after other necessary predeceasing steps, of course. But anyway. Courtney Lynne Kearns still can't wait to be a mom.

This week, it's been on my mind a lot, for some reason. Motherhood. The struggles, the joys, the sticky jam hands (I love a good sticky jam hand!) and maybe that's because I miss my own mother a million bucks (I sent her a text message last night saying thank you for that one time she grounded me in high school for being too attached to my cell phone. She's a smart little cookie, that Nance.)(My mom's name is Nance.) or, perhaps, it's that I spend a good majority of my time caring for other people's children (too old for sticky jam hands), wanting so badly to offer them all of the good in the world.

Today, our session director said something to the effect of "My wife told me on our second date that all she wanted to do was get married and have babies" and I thought to myself... "I have done that. I have totally done that." And then, after I realized that, I thought, "Okay, you should probably not tell people that right away" and then I thought "Why not? Might as well." And then, the conversation was over.

ANYWAY,
his point was that we shouldn't be ashamed of that.

And I'm not. Which is why I am expressing it here.

Dear world.
Courtney Lynne Kearns can't wait to be a mom soon.

P.S. this is not an announcement. I am not with child.

Also,

At the end of the day, my brother asks his children what their happy experience was for the day. My dad adopted that and brought it into our family. And every week, I bring it to night time discussion with my girls. Anyway, today, I got a text message from Cameron Brock saying that he was home from his mission. It was my happy experience of the day. I am tired of writing letters explaining all of the fun things we're going to do when he gets home. It's time to stop writing about them and start doing them. So excited to see ya, Cam! 

(This picture was taken on our last night all together in Alva C. Snow Hall, Freshman year. We took family pictures, the nine of us. It was all super cheesy and painfully adorable. P.S. Cam's home. Just in case you forgot.)

Untitled.

Working alongside the youth of the church constantly humbles me. The way they include each other without being prompted to. The way they ask questions about gospel principles because they really do want to know the answers. The way they're constantly recommitting themselves to be better. To pray more often. To reevaluate their lives and remember what's really important. The way they try so incredibly hard to please God because they've got an unfailing testimony and they understand that His will is what brings them joy.

I am blown away by these kids. And clearly, I've got a lot to learn.

I love my job.

EVERYONE KEEPS TALKING ABOUT THE FUN BUS.

Today, on the FUN BUS, my friend, Russ, asked me what I was going to write about one day. I told him that I didn't know. He suggested I write a book about EFY Love. Then, he told me he would be my first buyer and I asked him if he was going to let out his Raptor secret this year. He told me to keep my mouth shut about that, or he'd kill me. I agreed. He went back to listening to his iPod, and I continued reading my book. Also, this is me in my dorm room. I don't have a roommate. YOLO. 

It's hot here. Like, really hot.
And maybe it won't be tomorrow, but when I got to Phoenix at 5:30 P.M., I just wanted to die.

I don't have a roommate so I'm watching Netflix in my bed. I don't know if that's allowed, but it's like... no one is going to know, so no one is going to say anything. Also, I don't know why that wouldn't be allowed. I mean, it's my own sleep I'm losing.

I sometimes forget how annoying it is to make friends. Today, I was minding my own business, looking out the window, and reading a book, and I think a girl behind me thought I was lonely/a loner/maybe she thought I needed friends. And it was nice of her, but I hate stuff like that. I mean, if I want to talk to people, I'll talk to them. I don't want to answer weird questions like if I were a potato, how would I want to be prepared. That question tells you absolutely nothing about me. I just want to read my book.

By the way, The Fault In Our Stars is fantastic so far. A reeeeal dime piece.

It takes a while for me to come out of my shell. I hate that I'm like that, but I am. And I'm not sulking in a corner when I'm not talking to people. I'm not being a recluse, I am just being myself. Perfectly happy to sit alone. Read alone. BE ALONE. But be warned, when I do come out of my shell, I am a good time. Actually, I don't know what kind of a time I am, but I hope it's good.

Dear Alicia Carter: You were right about your brother. He's pretty great. Sometimes his FB posts make me laugh out loud.


I am excited for this week.
Good night/week/morning/hey y'all!

Just so you're not like "OMG WHERE DID SHE GO?!"

I quit my job because I 

a) hated it

b) was thrown into another one.

Here's the story: 

Last December, I was going to apply to do this again, but got annoyed when my application wasn't working, and told myself LIKE AN IDIOT that I could do other things the next summer, while still enjoying myself. Then, the summer came around. I had a job and after only a week, realized that I was going to hate it. I was anxious to start school because it was going to give me some purpose. After many tearful conversations with my parents and not wanting them to think that I was a quitter, they told me to do what would make me happy, even if that meant quitting my job.

A few weeks later, I was talking to my friend, Kelsey on the phone and she told me that there were still plenty of weeks of EFY that needed to be filled with counselors. I told her that I was going to school and wasn't quite sure if I wanted to feel like a complete failure and quit everything that I had going on in my life just because it was hard. I mean, staying up in Logan practically by yourself (sorry, Austin) is no picnic. Logan is cool, or whatever, but it's so hard to watch all of your friends and family back home  celebrate the summer while you're going to school and working a job that won't give you time off. It is miserable. Anyway, I told Kelsey thanks, but no thanks, and that was the end of that. 

And then, my boss called me sweetie. 

Politely, I said, "That's not my name." He got in my face and told me, sarcastically, that he couldn't remember my name and that I would have to deal with his pet names.

That night, I called Kelsey and asked if the offer still stood. She got me in contact with some of the nicest people in the whole world, and minutes later, I was applying for the job.

The next day, I started school. I loved my classes (except for Natural Disasters in the Geology building... WHY IS THAT A REQUIRED CREDIT??) and it took a lot of prayer and a leap of faith to decide if it was right to drop out of school for the summer. I felt like I was taking the easy way out; it seemed like I was cheating. I spoke with my mom and she reassured me that whatever I felt like was the right decision was the right decision and that she would support either (but I think she was secretly rooting for the job where I get to travel and hang out with teenagers all day).

I woke up the next morning to what seemed like one thousand emails in my inbox. They were the most exciting emails ever! Emails telling me the places I had been assigned to go! Everything just sort of fell into place without me really even doing anything at all. Well, I did pray. I did a lot of that, and that was largely responsible. Okay, probably more than largely.

Thank goodness for prayer. And good friends who say the right thing at the right time. 

And Phyllis. Thank goodness for Phyllis.

So, that night, I quit my job without a two weeks notice (oops). I'll never get a good reference from them, but it was empowering to tell my boss that I wouldn't be back to work the next day. I think everyone should get to experience that at least once in their life. It feels good. After that, I dropped my semester, and felt like I couldn't do it all fast enough. 

BUT THE BEST NEWS IS

I haven't been this happy in weeks. 

Except for I have a small ear infection, and I'm going to cry if my eardrum ruptures on the plane. Because that shiz hurts.

Tomorrow, I'm headed to Flagstaff, AZ for two weeks to talk about the gospel and spend time with the youth of the church. It is seriously the best job in the whole entire world and I am feeling exponentially blessed to be doing it. What a whirlwind of a week. Blessed. So blessed. Have I already said that?

D-Day.

Six years ago, I visited the beaches of Normandy in France with my family. 

One of the most humbling experiences of my life. 

I get so fired up about people who try to explain to me that America is a country of lazy, selfish people. I'm not sure if it's because I was raised to respect my beautiful country, the one that provides me freedoms that I would've never been able to enjoy had my ancestors chosen to stay in Europe, or if it's because I have more faith in Americans than I do of any other nation. Because they're my people. And people are supposed to stick up for their people. I am convinced that our country is in great turmoil because of the people who've lost faith in themselves. I refuse to do that. I have faith that we are the same people who fight for each others' rights. We stand up for ourselves. We are still the people who arrive in airplanes to storm the beaches of Normandy. We fight because we're worth it. We fight for each other. We fight evil and darkness because that's the right thing to do. 

I am proud to be an American on this D-Day. May it stay hallowed and remembered.

All I want.

Watched this video about a hundred times today. Cried through each viewing.

All I want to do is be a mom. 

Dear moms out there, all of you: 

I think you're the most beautiful thing. 

"Hey, what's that word that we made up for when you have a thing stuck in your shoe?

Anyway, I have a thing stuck in my shoe." 

It's still my favorite love story.

And I hope that says a lot about what I want from my life.

Mad dash to morning pancakes.

A few months ago, I remember a conversation I had with a person, a boy, who'd mentioned his intrigue and fascination in the delicious curves of a woman. And he used those words, too. Trust me, he used them. Had he not, they wouldn't have been able to rent out this space in my head. They wouldn't linger there, still. I remember the same person placing his arm around me, delicacy to my waist with his fingertips. First, he pulled me in tight, leaving no space for nonsense or conversation, and soon after, he left invisible prints with his lips down the strong part of my neck: the most brilliant part of a person's body. A part you remember another person leaving prints.

It is all plain and fuzzy, that month. Easier, even, to fall out of affection with it as it was to fall in. Beginning and ending with holiday parties and a tiptoe or two of something similar to faith in believing it could be done--the falling in and the falling out. I remember all of that, but can't for the life of me recover the details I crafted into it! All I can find are the words. He commented, once, on my own delicious curves, and I remember wondering which curves he spoke of. My mother used to comment on the fact that I was born without them. Curves, that is. I've got slight ones, I suppose. In my jawline. I've got one of those faces that's shaped like an orange. A soccer ball or the geometric profile of Provolone cheese. But no other curves. Stubborn excess that hangs just above my obliques, yes. The absence of negative space between my thighs, but curves? He must've dreamt those up. And it is peculiar that he would've, considering the fact that he never really even dreamt of me at all.

The first time I invited someone to my lips. April twenty-sixth. In the middle of a street in the city I grew up in. Yards from a soccer field when I was sixteen. Long, blonde hair that he didn't dare touch. I was the same. Too timid to tousle, tease, or lock my wrists around his neck. He used tongue and after that, I wanted to go home. But that's not what we're speaking of here. Those are the lips. Two of them together, I've learned, breeds insignificance. Two sets of lips, alone, supplies overused, under-appreciated, tasteless clichés. And those exhaust me.

Here, I speak of the finer things. Novelties like that spot on the side of the neck. The one that, when occupied by another person's lips creates a soft and sudden aching awareness of the both of you. That it's working, oh, it's working between you, even when it shouldn't. It fires a desperate longing for Sunday morning pancakes, furniture shopping, and spontaneous trips to Yellowstone for as long as God would permit you to extend your stay on this Earth. The strong part of the neck, when prompted so right, begs you to want the things you couldn't understand wanting before. Things you find yourself refusing to live without now.


One time, there was a neck thing, among other things. A lovely neck thing. It is sewn in my brain with impossible sublimity now. At the root, there were blanket statements about politics and there were belly laughs. The kind that make you hurt and almost bruise; the kind you more than just-a-little-bit remember. The details you often recover just before falling asleep some nights. Having nothing to do with the delicious curves of a woman's body. Having everything to do with pancakes.





For the record, it was my favorite thing. Even of all the things I've ever had.

The worst part about living with roommates

is not being brave enough to go out into the kitchen without pants to make a grilled cheese sandwich even when I'm home alone, for fear of another person walking through the front door. IT IS A LEGITIMATE (and all too often thought about) WORRY.

I wrote about not wearing pants a long time ago. I feel the same way about it now. This proves that I am consistent. 

Also, I want to cut my hair like this and so I think I might. I'm really obsessed with Rosemary DeWitt right now and I don't know why. She's really sassy and has good bangs.