Sugar Plums Dancing?

HAPPY CHRISTMAS, EVERYBODY!!!

Well, it's not Christmas yet, but it snowed a whole whale load today, so we're all in the Christmas spirit!

So, one time I was listening to the good ole "Twas the Night Before Christmas" poem, and I thought, "What the heck is a sugar plum?"

I know you've all secretly wondered the same at one time or another.  Well, my friends, wonder no longer!  Kj has done the research for you.

First, it is not the same as a sugarplum, which comes from the amelanchier plant, native to north america.  That is very different.  And if you are having visions of this thing dancing in your head, then it's probably not too bad. But, you're probably a super nerd for knowing what that is and then dreaming about it.

Amelanchier Ovalis... not what Clement was talking about.

Second, a sugar plum is basically a ball of dried fruits.  There was a time.. a while ago.. where "plum" meant any dried fruit.  Who messed that up at some point? 

"Hey Sally, can I have a plum?"

*Sally gives kid a dried apricot*

"How dare you, Sally?!  I clearly meant strictly the fresh, drupe fruit, of the genes Prunus!"

 I do not know. I mean, a plum (nowadays) isn't even a dried fruit... And how did it catch on?  I do not know.  

Now that doesn't look too bad, eh?

Anyway... so apparently people used to think that a ball of dried fruits was worthy of their dreams. Granted, it's covered in sugar, most of the time.  I'll give them that.  Sometimes I cover my cereal in sugar, and that's pretty yummy.

So, there you go.  If any of you ever have visions of these dancing in your head, PLEASE let me know.  That would make my life.  Okay, CTR!!

Love, Kj

My Greatest Fears

So, I don’t really like reading very much. But sometimes in the summer I get so bored that I turn to reading in my darkest (boredest) of times.  So I read this book this summer where the characters have to face their deepest fears in a virtual world they call their “fear landscape.”  

I totally have two fears that I guarantee would make up my fear landscape.  And if any of you read this post and use the information contained herein to sabotage me in some way, you will rue the day.  I don’t know why you will, but I’ll figure that out later.  

Fear #1: WASPS.  

I. HATE. WASPS. Story time-- I was 7.  Kyle (my older brother) thought it would be a fun sibling-bonding activity to go visit the local wasp nest in our neighbor’s storm drain.  He always was the dumbest one. (Jk.  He’s smart in real life.  But he’s on a mission, so he can’t even read that.)  Anyway, my wonderful little sister was just a wee tot and decided that the nest needed elimination.  The idea itself is a good one, but the execution was completely idiotic.  Again, wee tot. She threw a rock at it.  To this day I’m unsure how this happened, but the whole swarm had a meeting and decided they were going to sting Kj.  All of them.  So they did.  And it hurt.  And I cried.. a fact that I would like to attribute to my young age, but let’s get real and admit that even if this happened today, we’d all cry.

Now, I need to clarify: I am no respector of stinging insects.  When I say “wasps”, I mean: hornets, yellow jackets, those weird giant black wasp-like bugs from Hades that live in Tucson, and bees.  Cool?  Actually, not cool at all.

Ok.  I found the following picture on Pinterest. 

And it inspired me to let you all know how I’ve faced my fear over the years.  

First, let me tell you that I’m kind of like Spiderman.  Because I’m pretty sure that after the above experience, I developed a 6th sense to detect wasps at all times.  

Second, let me tell you that I never face this fear.  When my waspy sense goes off, I just leave… rapidly… Ok. I run.  This has become an ongoing problem because I pass this stupid purple-blossomed plant everyday on my way to school, and it is an evil haven of wasps.  When people aren’t watching, I just walk off the sidewalk and around it.  But when people are around, I am basically forced to be cool.  And I just hold my breath and walk super fast past it.  The good news is that this only lasted for about the first month of school.  Phew!  I would be dead from hypertension at this point if it went any longer.

OOOOOKAY.  You ready?

Fear #2:  Bicyclists on Campus.

Laugh if you will, but I am legitimately terrified.  Just today, this kid… we will call him “Turbo”… seriously missed me by maybe 2 inches.  I swear he was planning on plowing me over, but I’m thinking he read his scriptures this morning because at the last second, some saving grace told him to veer quite uncoordinatedly out of my path.  I am definitely applying for a slot on that show “I Shouldn’t be Alive” because Turbo would’ve been just fine, gently floating off his bike, with his sweet helmet on.  However, Kj would’ve been minced meat. 

Unfortunately I don’t have a bikey sense to detect those crazies quite yet since I only developed said fear last year.  This makes it even worse when they deploy the sneak attack: you know, where they zoom up from behind without the least degree of warning.  Seriously, heart attack status.  

As Troy Bolton and Gabriella Montez once said (in duet form):

 “I never knew that this could happen ‘til it happened to me.  Ooooohhhh.  

I never knew if before, but now it’s easy to seeeeee,  ooooooohh!”  

Now a new [short] story time:  MY ROOMMATE (Marie) GOT HIT BY A BIKE!  AND, she fell (obviously), AND her phone got knocked out of her hand, AND he RAN OVER her phone and cracked it!  Now, Maria is indeed the most accident-prone person ever, as was decided by our graduating class.  BUT, that holds no significance when you are merely the innocent by-stander.  This is real, guys.  I did not even make any of this up.  Except the waspy sense.  But that’s only about 40% exaggerated.

So, be careful out there.  The world is a scary place. 

First Day of School, First Day of School!

Hey guys.  It's me, Kj.

So, I just finished my second week of school.  It's been fun... ish.  Actually, I'm really happy to be back.  I like seeing people and being in cheer.  It's just that I don't super enjoy sitting through lectures.  Snacks are my heaven-send.  As in I cannot make it through a lecture without snacks.  Do you know how fast a pack of gummies runs out?!  Faster than a professor can say, "When I was your age.."

Anyway, this post is about the first day of school.  I asked my dad what I should wear on said day, and he said that it should be cute because first impressions matter.  Well, Dad, I can't say I agree with you completely.  And here's why.  Stick with me here.

So, you're sitting in class on the first day, and what's the first thing you do?  Hopefully you take off your backpack and sit down.  But after that, you scout out the prospects.  Let me help you ladies out:

Steps to scouting out prospects on the first day of school:

1. Eliminate the girls. (If that doesn't apply to you, then... yeah...)
2. Check who is cute.
3. Make a mental note.

Now, this may seem shallow and such, but how the heck are you supposed to judge a person's "personality" on the first day??  Unfortunately, people don't have soul charts floating above their head.  Life would be so easy if that was the case.

Ok, anyway, the point is: how many of us actually remember any person we loved on the first day? I don't.  But, as the semester goes on, I start figuring out who is in my classes, I notice people I didn't see before, and then I actually take note of certain people.

So here's what it comes down to:  This ^ thought process should be true for everyone because I usually think the best.  And, if it is true for everyone, then yes, first impressions matter for the scouting prospects part.  But chances are those who made a note of you will forget about exactly how you looked on that first day and will continually notice you throughout semester.

Then maybe you should look ugly on the first day?  Welllll, not ugly, but not super cute.  Just regular.  And then look REALLY cute in later days/weeks because then they'll be like, "where have you been all of semester??"And then you've got them.

Just remember that at that point, people really do start noticing personality.  So if that's a problem for you, maybe skip the shopping trip altogether and go to a niceness seminar instead.  I bet you $100 BYU offers those.

Ok, choose the right, people!  And remember, the first day is already past, so you can't use this post as an excuse to look regular.  Unless it's hobo day-- when there's no time between practice and class, so you go in your sweats.  That is an exception because I named it.

Love, Kj

Bred for skills in magic.

Kj  has returned!  Sorry about that, bee tee dubs.  I won't let it happen again.


I have a favorite animal.  It's a squirrel.  I can't remember how that happened, but it's been true since I was about 12.


In other news, one time I went to the zoo.  And then, I saw my second favorite animal.  A squirrel monkey! I bet you ten billion dollars that you didn't know that existed.  Well that's okay because we're all pretty dumb until we discover things.  And the day I discovered the squirrel monkey was a joyous occasion.  Here's some pics.

As you can tell, the connection was instantaneous.  He literally came right to me.  I named him omelet.


While we're on the subject, my third favorite animal is a group of animals: albinos.  Albino people are cool, and I have indeed met a few in my lifetime. But, albino animals are cooler.  One day in 2010 I decided to make an albino squirrel my profile picture.  No, I wasn't 10, I was actually 15, but I'm not ashamed of it.  Here's a screen shot for proof.

Last, my fourth favorite animal is also a group of animals: pygmys.  Pygmy squirrels are freaking cute. You can get on google rampages looking up pygmy animals.  So google at your own risk.


Alright, I'm so glad you're all enlightened on my animal preferences.  I try to keep it at 4, but you never know when a new one will fall into your life. As Emily Osment would say, keep your e-eyes open.  Actually that's Taylor Swift, but same difference.  At least I didn't say Hannah Montana.


Love, Kj

3 D's: Duck. Dynasty. Dream.

Today was the season 3 premier of Duck Dynasty.  And I LOVE duck dynasty.  I may or may not be considered a bandwagon fan.  But I'm okay with that because it is such frappin' hilarious show!  I also feel that I hopped on the bandwagon a little earlier than most, so at least I got a good seat, right?

This is just one of far too many wonderful Duck Dynasty quotes.  If it were one movie, I would have the whole thing memorized.  Sure, it can be quite scripted, and Willie is not a good enough actor for that, but Si is just funny and borderline senile.  I mean, the man mistook berries for poop!  HE ATE POOP!  Plus, he is a Nam vet, for crying out loud.  Give him some R-S-P-E-C-T!!  And let's not forget to mention the time he dominated the donut-eating contest!  Did Obama ever win a donut eating contest?  Did Justin Bieber?  Did Adele?  I don't think so. . . Ok, maybe Adele did.

ANYWAY. . .

Over MLK day break, I had a dream about Duck Dynasty.

The best part is that I was in the dream. . . As in I was a member of the Robertson family!  I'm not positive how I fit in, but I think I was a grandchild.  Which was sweet!  I mean, Phil was my grandpa, guys!

Anyway, I think we were eating squirrel.

THEN, WE WENT TO DISNEYLAND!!

Is that not the greatest imaginary experience of your whole life?! If I ever get a terminal illness and get a wish, I will for sure (1) meet Tim Tebow (just thought I'd throw that in there), (2) become adopted into the Robertson family, and then (3) go to Disneyland with them.

That would make me happy, happy, happy.


Love, Kj

Valentine's Day

In case you walked around campus with your eyes closed and headphones in all day, I’ll just take a moment to inform you that today is Valentine’s Day.  I’ll also take a moment to advise you to refrain from walking around campus in the manner described above.  Safety hazard. 

Here’s my thing:  I hate haters.  I mean, what’s wrong with being “just okay”, “just eh”, “just fine” with JB, the Jonas Brothers, T Swift, etc.? You don’t know their lives. The same goes for Christmas music and Valentine's Day.  So many people LOATHE ENTIRELY things/people that are completely irrelevant.  The only things you can acceptably hate are: haters, the Chargers (and the Cowboys, and the Patriots, and the Raiders, and the Chiefs), and the Utes.  That’s it.  If you’re hating anything else, then you’re just crusty and making your life stink.  

So Valentine’s Day is cool.  I mean, do I have a Valentine?  No.  Can I walk anywhere at BYU and avoid being reminded of that?  Heck no.  However, I like love.  Love’s cool.  I also love pink. And candy.  So that makes for a happy day.  And every holiday is an excuse to celebrate, which is super great.  

Furthermore, I like the cheesy stuff people do.  Mormons do cheesy best.  Some lady who looked like she belonged on Yo Gabba Gabba came and sang a song to a kid in the Wilk today.  She was nuts.  And whoever thought it was a cute idea to do that to their sweetheart is more nuts.  But it made my day a little more interesting.  In the “I could’ve probably gone throughout my day having not seen that, and it would’ve been better” sense.  But, better is not always memorable.

So quit hating on Valentine’s Day.  Hey, if you have a Valentine, pin a rose on your nose.  If not, that may be a sign you could do your hair a little cuter. Or perhaps you smell bad. Joke.  Then again, I could very well not be joking.  Who knows?

Anyway, I’ll leave you with this meme because it's punny.

Just remember:  Chances are, I love you.  So you’ve made it.  You’re there.  Happy Valentine’s Day, homies!  And stay away from the Hinckley Hall lobby tonight.  The PDA could be toxic.

Love, Kj

Chronic Ankle Instability

In case you didn't know from my title, my topic of the day is Chronic Ankle Instability, from which I suffer.  Don’t try and wikipedia it... you’ll fail.

What is CAI, you ask?  Well, 6 months ago I would’ve been just as naive as you. But I’m older now, and quite a bit wiser.  Six months older, actually.  

Let me tell you a little story.  It takes place at cheer camp in July 2012.  I fell from a pyramid and severely sprained my left ankle.  (See Figure 1).  That meant I got to hop around Vegas for 2 days.  They don’t have crutches in Vegas because (a) they like when people suffer,and (b) lots of people walk with a limp to up their swag.  Not me.  I just hopped/ mooched piggy back rides off teammates.  

Figure 1

First Sprain.  Days 1, 3, and 4.

Less than three months later, on October 24, 2012, my life was changed forever.  Following another fall and another ankle sprain (see Figure 2), this time on my right ankle, I was diagnosed with CAI.  When I received the news, I was devastated.  So many questions ran through my mind: What did this mean?  How long did I have?  A week?  A year or two?  

Figure 2

Second sprain.  Days 1 and 4.

The answer? One month.  Just a short 4 weeks later, I re-sprained my left ankle at another practice (see Figure 3).  

Figure 3

Third Sprain.  Day 1... I was done with the bruise pics at this point.

Though this one was not as bad as the others due to the daily ankle taping Jun advised, I was nevertheless devastated.  My diagnosis was confirmed.  I had come to terms with the fact that I have little ankles. Correction: I had little ankles (see comparison of Figure 4).  They are now kankles.  Which is sad because my little ankles were quite attractive.  

Figure 4

Left: ankle pre-sprains.  Right:  wrapped up ankle post-sprain.

Now, maybe I can clear up some ambiguity by giving you a “Day in the life of a CAI sufferer.”

 I wake up at 6:30, and Jun tapes the crap out of my ankles before I go to cheer practice.  This makes for really ugly arabesques and kicks due to my very limited ability to point my toes. 

 Anyway, then I face my abusive relationship: cheer.  Man, I really REALLY love it!  But as you can see, sometimes cheer doesn’t reciprocate that love.  But I’m sticking with it.  We’re going to work it out.  

After practice, I cut off my tape, which hurts if I haven’t shaved in a while.  Then I try and get the weird sticky spray stuff off because it makes it difficult to put pants on when your ankles are sticky.  

Throughout my day, I go through unforeseen complications associated with CAI.  These include: not being able to freely parkour, avoiding potholes and curbs, jumping really low when I frolick, looking weird when I go down stairs, occasionally receiving an ankle "massage" that makes me cry, and struggling to take get my boots over my kankles.  

If that night entails a game, I again tape like there’s no tomorrow.  Often with 2 different trainers taping different ankles, the left and right don’t quite match up (see Figure 5).  But that’s okay because we draw Nike swooshes on the sides and pretend I’m just a hipster and wear tube socks when I cheer.  I’m not sure which is more embarrassing... 

Figure 5

Just... yep.

Life’s rough.  I get through it one day at a time.  

But the my kankles don’t define me.  My CAI doesn’t define me.  All I ask is that you join me in the fight.  Let’s search for the cure (I propose metal joints).  Let’s spread awareness. My fight will not be in vain.  

To help the cause, all I ask is that you give me $5.  Or a back scratch.

Love, "Kankle Kj"