new

last night, after doing my nightly rituals, I felt it creep up into my room. Please no! But it came. Like a deep, dense fog around my heart. Heavy, unsettling, overwhelming, new.

new apartment, new roommates, new(ish) ward, new calling, new classes, new status as a senior (yay!), new homework expectations (what, I have to 300 books for one class? okay, not 300, but it feels like it), new(ish) language, new stresses, new worries, new fears, new possibilities, new dreams, new failures, new friends, new beginning, new end.

{un}published part ii

rules of life:
growing in life is an interesting thing. It happens slowly. Little by little we all grow up. In each moment, in each choice we are becoming someone. This growth occurs so mintutely often times you don't know it's happening until someone else sees it in your countenance.

but it doesn't always happen that way.

other times it seems like we're on steroids. Things seem to be exploding in our face. Realizations, events, changes, thoughts, moments, struggle become the norm for a short time and choices seem to be shoved in your face right and life. You're head is spinning. You want to raise your hands in defeat, wave your white flag and just be done. Sleeping and eating and thinking and breathing suddenly become optional and things like responding to email or blogging or doing something nice for someone else seem like the biggest tasks in the world.


and yet


there is something so beautiful about those times. it's who you really are. the choices that you make when everything seems to need to be decided at once reveals your deepest self. And the growth, it's measurable. You can breathe the excitement and feel movement in the world. You're on the brink. About to jump off a bridge into ice cold water on a hot summer day or dive into the most delicious cake or learn about who you are and what you are becoming.

***

It was a short hike, although it got the heart pumping and the quads burning. There was a slight breeze as we began the ascent, just enough to make it not too hot. It felt so familiar. I thought the first time I was up there, just before my senior year. It was just as I remembered it.

But how much I have changed.

As time moves ever onward I feel I seem to stay the same, living my life, but not really breathing. Seeing no measurable difference in my heart and my head. And then there are moments like this. When shades of wisdom are slide over my eyes and for a brief moment I can see how far I have come, and how far I have to go doesn't seem as unobtainable as usual.

As soon as we got to the top the wind was pounding. I tried to inhale, but could barely catch a breath as the air rushed over me, twisting around my hair and curling over my jacket. I flipped open my scriptures. I felt like it was my duty to read some sort of ensign/standard/banner/mountain scripture up top that sacred spot. I didn't realize there were so many to choose from. I suddenly felt a closeness to Isaiah. He saw my day, knew it intimately. And he had faith in us.

I also felt a closeness to these two men. They once stood atop this humble peak, also looking over the valley as it would be in our day. Established. Flourishing. A real home for a people that were then without one. A banner, an ensign, a standard to the world. A message of peace, hope, courage, faith, strength, and light.

Beautiful.

***

the well is deep and I cannot reach the bottom.

stars enumerable twinlking beyond my hope

the sands on the sea shore, so numerous I cannot comprehend.

The feeling dissipates, I reach out to grab it. gone. like a dream in the night, fleeting, small, and yet so rich and deep my arm is not long enough to show the depths of it

***
 

Education is important. In fact, a college degree was never an option in my family. It was expected. Expanded our mind is so important. Especially as women.

But there is a season for everything. Right now my season is school. A lot, a LOT of school. And even though sometimes I dream of dropping out and maybe joining this or going on long adventures with all the money I don't have, or just reading all the books that I want to and do my own, selective, non-structured learning, I know that this is my season. And each day as I trudge up the hill to 8 o'clock class in the morning, sit through lecture, worry about my 10 tests and homework assignments, don't ever sleep, never have time to read what I want, seem to be sinking more than swimming, and think of all the fun things people around me get to do. And then I remember that I'm paying a price. And that I am so lucky I get to go to school. That I don't have to worry about how I'm going to pay for it. That I have the opportunity to go on to graduate school. That I don't have to drop out of school because my family needs me to work. I am so lucky.

***

I'm ready

to have an adventure
to jump on the nearest train and travel to the end of the world
to get lost in a city where no one speaks english
to jump on the back of a vespa in the english countryside (preferably with a strapping english chap to hold on to)
to expand my eyes, give them so much to see they are sore from trying to open wider
to run in a field barefoot, the wind washing my troubles away
to laugh until I'm crying
to escape with a good book, my mind learning and growing and understanding things I never thought possible
to have one of those moments when life is so sweet I can feel it. when I would rather be no where but in that moment
to feel like all the hard work is worth it
to truly breathe
to just be

the science behind

A dear friend recently posted this on her blog:

Did you know that you can melt sugar? And that it turns into caramel? 

I cannot tell you how happy it made me to read that. This is the wonder of science. Watching sugar melt is essentially what I've done all summer in my organic chemistry lab class. Okay I didn't watch sugar melt, but whatever we would make that day and then take a melting point reading on, often looked like sugar, or snowflakes, or smelled like laffy taffys. I felt like I was in a cooking class, learning how to make caramel brownies, only my ingredients often included carcinogens or flammable chemicals and my end products weren't brownies but things like 4-tert-butyl-2,6-dinitrophenol.  Or maybe I was in potions class. I kept having lines from Harry Potter run through my head and occasionally my teacher felt like Snape.

I beyond dreaded taking physics. I had escaped four years of high school and three of college  without having to take the subject. Unfortunately the time came, I swallowed my pride, and... completely fell in love with velocity, momentum, circuits, and the buoyancy factor. I loved that I understood (in a very small and simple way) how the world worked better.  I felt like a new way of seeing and thinking was opened up to me with this new knowledge.

Yesterday my nephew and I went to the Bean Museum on campus to see the black widow spider (ironic that we would go to a museum full of dead things just to see the only living one). As we wandered around and Ry's eyes filled with wonder at the crocodiles and prairie dogs, I was flooded with memories of coming to this place as a child. I am eternally grateful for parents who took the time to teach me to love the world around me. I loved shows like zoom or Bill Nye the Science Guy.  My dad and I would take apart old computers and he would show me what each part did. We would go hiking as a family and my mom would stay up late working on science fair projects with me.

Do I think that science is the only important or worthwhile field of study? Absolutely not. But so often I feel like science gets short-changed by "non-science" folk as being dry, boring, difficult, and nerdy. My friends, you can never, ever escape science. People say "science isn't my thing" but I'm afraid that's impossible. Science is everybody's thing. Everything in this world revolves around it from dancing to baking to candle-stick making.  Science is not without difficulty and there are some things that are indeed boring, but a simple understanding of science opens up an amazing world and I cannot stress that enough.

Is science creative? I cannot answer a big enough YES to make you understand enough how much it really is. Science is governed by our current understanding and rules, but anyone who has worked on a science project or in a lab will tell you that half the time everything that you try that should work doesn't and you are left with your own knowledge and guess work to come up with a solution. We only have the knowledge that we do because of the men and women of history were brave and creative enough to try and fail a million times and to learn from each attempt.

So take some time to become acquainted with science. Your life will be full of so much more wonder and joy because of it.

And that is a promise.


loves,

M

language

Some people are born with the first word of a language resting on their tongue though it may take some time before they can taste it.

-The Goose Girl, p5

In my opinion, we are all born with an innate language. Some form of communication that is our native tongue; it speaks to our immortal souls and touches our heart strings in a profound way. For some it is art, others music, dance, sports, numbers, nature, etc. For me it is the written word. 

I am a perpetual writer. At any given time I have four or five "journals" going, all serving different purposes. I write down funny things in my notes in class--things I notice about people, funny things that happened throughout my day, great quotes my professors say. I keep an agenda and tons of to-do lists. When I want to say something important, I write it. When I want to tell someone I love how much they mean to me, it comes in the form of a note or card. I fall in love with books not just because of the stories or meaning that they have, but because of the beautiful language they use. I remember walking into my roommate's room last summer just to read her a passage from a book because I thought the way in which what was said was so beautiful. Songs that mean the most to me often do because of the lyrics of the songs. I find joy in the world around me by writing about it. I cannot get enough of words.

We are often conversant in multiple languages. While I feel the written word is my mother tongue, there are times when music, art, or dance express something that speaks to me in a deep and lasting way. We bridge the gaps of humanity through all of these different types of language. The ability to communicate through so many forms is what makes life beautiful.

And like me, you were born with a word on your tongue. I don't know what word it was. You will grow older and discover it one day without my help.

-The Goose Girl, p6

{un}published part i

I was looking for a particular post in my archives today and was surprised to see how many posts I've started (or even finished) but never published. Most of which I don't remember writing. I decided that despite the fact that they are mere fragments of thoughts, they deserve to be heard, so I am starting a series of posts (in no particular groupings) to free them from their cages, unchanged from how I found them.

enjoy.

***

I went running with my sister today. I although I begrudgingly agreed to come along on the phone, I was secretly grateful that she asked if I would go with her. I really needed a run. Despite loving to run, I have been absolutely terrible at it this past year. I've been more sporadic than a [insert funny comparison here]. But I need to be better.

As we pounded the pavement toward the end and I wanted to quit so badly, I thought about each step I was taking. Each step got me closer to that lamp post. The lamp post was closer to the corner, the corner closer to our final destination. If I could just make it to the lamp post, I could make it to the corner and if I could make it to the corner, I could make it home. I laughed as I thought of these mental games I play with myself as I run.

***

looked up to see "radius of the earth" in my google search box
I'm obsessed with cheddar sunchips. so so so yummy
I see things and think I am just so curious what that tastes like. So I buy it. Exhibit A: the cinnabon snack bar. Yes, it really tasted like a cinnabon.

***

The last few days a melancholy fog seems to have settled around my heart. I tried to pin point the reason for this and I came up with a number of good guesses, but then it hit me: change.

Change is necessary and good, but that doesn't take away from the fact that it is painful, engrossing, consuming, stretching, taxing and tiring. I can feel it in the air, just around the corner. I'm excited for change, but I am acutely aware of just how much I love what I'm leaving behind.

She is moving to a far off place and while I am giddy with excitement for the adventures she will encounter, I'm realizing each day how much I am going to miss her.

***

The past couple of weeks I've felt the need to simplify my life. To rid myself of unnecessary possessions. clean-up, de-junk, organ-ize. (sorry, I couldn't help myself). I finished with my apartment room, so the other day I headed home to start on my other room. I thought it would take a quick moment. I had gone through that stuff so many times, each time I moved in or out of the house. I waded through a sea of papers and old books for 4 hours and only managed to get through 3/4 of the room, filling a whole corner full of things to be taken away to someone who actually needs them. It was a liberating feeling, letting go of so many things I had been holding on to. But...

I've always known I was a pack rat at heart, I just happen to be an organized one. Usually when I go through my "junk" I look at an object for a moment. I consider its current uses, its sentimental value, and I allow my mind to wander. I begin to think of all the scenarios in which that thing would be useful in the future. I weigh the current use/sentimental value/future use against the space I would free up if I disposed of it, and then I make a decision. But this time was different. I seemed immune to all the uses of my old possessions, and instead felt as if they were just space wasted in my brain. I realized that some of the things I had been holding on to for all these years really held no value to me. I had just felt like I ought to keep them. Exhibit A: the state quarter collection. I had every state quarter except maybe 5 of the last ones sitting in a dinky case I got from the book fair. Was I an avid coin collector? no. Did I even feel attachment at all? nope. I only felt a tinge of sadness popping all those quarters out of the case because it represented a lot of time spent coming that close to having a complete collection.

I realized that this is part of my putting away childish things. Getting rid of the unnecessary

***

dear

Dear guest lecturer,

Thank you for saying, "since the cold war was still running hot..." It made my day.

Sincerely,

M



Dear Harold B. Lee Library,

Thanks for employing me for the last two years. I really appreciate that you've given me great stories to tell about crazy patrons. Thanks for providing me with income, for letting me listen to great music, books, radio and talks while I work among your shelves, giving me an opportunity to live among the books, and being the setting for some really great and embarrassing moments, not to mention the reason I've been asked out several times...

yours,

M



Dear Ryan,

I cannot wait to play with you next weekend. Pretty much I think you're the greatest.

love,
Aunty sis



Dear roommates,

Thanks for finally coming back. Although I have to admit it was nice to have a clean apartment and know that when I put something down it would be there when I came back. Nonetheless, it's nice to live among people again.

kisses,

lonely soul in 306



Dear P, A, and D,

I love all three of you. I am so happy you came over last night. I couldn't think of a better way to spend the evening then with you three. I love that we are still friends after all these years.

loves,

M


Dear molten lava cakes,

you are perfection--easy to make, rich, and delicious. I don't know how I survived so long without you.

Sincerely,

You're biggest fan


Dear optimism,

Thanks for being my trusty go-to-gal all these years. After a good cry, you are always there to pick up the pieces, make a new plan, tell me why my life is great, chase away regret, and get my feet moving again. We make a good pair.

cheers,

M



Dear running,

I love that we've been spending more consistent time together under the expansive sky. It's a beautiful world.

M


Dear wait wait don't tell me,

Thanks for making a free podcast. I love listening to you to pass the time as I work even if I look ridiculous laughing to myself among the shelves.

M


Dear leopard print,

Thanks for never going out of style. Although I said that about you in 7th grade, I was glad to find out today that I continue to be right.

love

My 7th grade self

lemon drop

"'Would you care for a lemon drop?' 'A what?' 'A lemon drop. They're a muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.'"

Why yes, Dumbledore, I would love a lemon drop.

mmmm.

M

Running is an amazingly cathartic experience for me. Side note: I realize that it is not for everyone, but I do think that everyone has something that makes them feel this way and if you don't please (I beg of you!) find something that does. I have had some of my most profound, spiritual, "ah-ha", thought-provoking experiences while running. At any given time I have felt heartache, triumph, pain, exhilaration, joy, freedom and despair while running. I have learned so much about myself, humanity, God, and nature because of running. It clears my head, relieves stress, empowers, calms, enlightens and frees me. I feel more alive when I run.

A few years ago I ran the Wasatch Back with my sister and some of her friends. As I neared the end of my first, longest and hottest, run I reached a hill that I had not been anticipating. My heart dropped as I reached the bottom and looked up. I cannot do this. One of the women on my team jumped out of the car as I approached, no doubt with my heartache etched all over my face, and without a moment's hesitation said, "hey, I'll run it with you." My first response was to decline her offer. I had to run this hill, only me. But she insisted. I don't think I would have made it up without her. 

After that run, I sat in the back of the truck with another teammate as we cheered on our next runner. We talked about how running is so much like life. We can cheer each other on, we can lift and help, but ultimately each one of us must take those steps on our own. One of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands has one of my favorite lines, "but in the end the only steps that matter are the ones you take all by yourself." When we run we push ourselves beyond what we think we can do (think this quote). It takes bravery and strength and it is something that you must do alone. What I realized those two crazy days of running in the heat, middle of the night, on no sleep, after sitting in a car for hours on end, was the power of those steps we all took alone to bind us together. I felt such a bond to those people around me. Everyone was cheering other runners on. Yelling words of encouragement, offering snacks and water. We were all apart of this race whether on the same team or not. We all had to run those steps, we understood what it felt like, and we were all bound because of it. Yes, I had to take those steps and in order to finish my run, only I could take them. But I then, as I often do now, I underestimated the power of people standing by my side, telling me that I could do it.

As I think about my life, I see those people that are watching out for me, praying for me, encouraging me, loving me. Yes we all must take steps in life alone, but without others (including and most especially the Lord) we would often fall short of finding the courage, heart and strength to carry on. There is power in relationships, in love and in people that transcends despair, doubt, and fear.

****

Yesterday I went for a short run before it was back to homework, homework, homework. I ran up to the bell tower. Side note: it's the perfect short run. You have two hills, a great view of campus, and stairs to do when you get to the top, then it's all down hill on the way back. When I reached the tower the sun was setting and everything was lit in the illumination of twilight. I looked over campus and thought, and so it begins, my last year at BYU. I thought about how much I have grown and changed, the experiences I've had, the people that I've met-oh the people that I've met! I would not trade in my BYU experience for anything, every joyous and heart-wrenching moment. I thought about how in a year I will know where I'll be going to graduate school. I'll have a new home and a new place to find joy in. This is the beginning of the end. Really I started doing my lasts this spring when I got my last ecclesiastical endorsement, but now, with my final year drawing closer, it is beginning to feel real. I have loved where I've been but now it is time to turn my head and my heart to a new time and a new place.

****

I have spent essentially my entire life in school. So much of what we term the "formative years" are spent in practice for real life (hence why we call them the formative years). We spend what seems like eternity becoming, learning, practicing, theorizing to then spend the rest of our lives doing and being (not that you do not or cannot learn or become later in life). So often I am so anxious to free myself from the bonds of school. The work it requires is never done. I itch to be doing something, not just talking about, learning or practicing it. 

Several weeks ago an excellent talk on freedom was given in sacrament meeting. The topic was given in light of the patriotic holiday, but rather than speak on "freedom from" as the speaker termed it, he chose to speak on the "freedom to." When we do not have capabilities or skills we are in bondage. We do not have the choice to give of time or talents or skills or heart that we do not have. But, when we learn and grow and practice, we are then free to choose to share of the things in which we have learned and grown in and perfected. Often, as we all are, I am anxious to get out there and make a difference, change the world, and help people. There are often small (but desperately important) things that we already have the freedom to do to help those around us. But when that help requires skills beyond our current ability, there is a time of learning, waiting, preparing, and sacrificing. When that preparatory period is over, we have more choices to help and act than we did before because we have the skills required. We are released from the chains of ignorance and helplessness and we have the freedom to act.

As I look toward the future I see many preparatory years still ahead. School can be overwhelming and frustrating. While I yearn to set my feet in the real word, I am beginning to understand the importance of this time in which I must keep my eyes wide and my mind open. I am giving myself more opportunities to act, help, and be free.

More on the subject can be found here, here and here.

M

citizens of the world

Allow me to indulge myself and step up onto the soap box for a minute. This is my blog after all.

I love the 4th of July; it has always been one of my favorite holidays. As I was enjoying our small town parade, watching floats with beauty queens and clone troopers with flags go by, I couldn't help but think about what a beautiful country we live in. I love that we are free to speak and act as we wish. There are so many people in the world right now fighting for such freedoms (think Egypt, Libya, Syria).

However, too often we use the freedom to think and speak openly to make close-minded assumptions about the world and the way in which it should (or does) run. As Americans (or as anyone belonging to any culture) we have a certain mentality about the right way to do things. We champion the individual spirit, efficiency, and hard work. We have a certain way of viewing the world. While everyone from anywhere has a certain way of looking at the world, Americans tend to have a harder time breaking out of that model to see that there are other ways of doing things. It's hard to imagine that there are other (and equally good) ways of viewing life and how to live it. Sometimes what we think is the right way is indeed just one of many right ways.

So this patriotic season, I challenge you to use your freedom to speak and think as you wish to dare to think differently. See the world in a new light and see others and their way of viewing life and work as things of beauty.

when I grow up

I want to be Kate Middleton.


love love love her style.


That's all.

M

PS please disregard the first picture on the link. I do not want to be a cowboy. She looks divine in all the other pictures however.

you must

read (or listen) to this. No one cannot help but smile and get lost in the charming characters and lovely language of this book.

Please.
You'll be doing yourself a favor.

You Know You're a Science Major When... (part iv)

While my list is not limited to just micro majors this time, it still belongs with my other installments:

• you have to have your hair back and wear closed-toe shoes and long pants EVERYDAY to school in the summer because of lab classes (as a result my wearable wardrobe has dwindled. I never realized how much I didn't wear those things until that's all I could wear)
• you spend $600 on books for a semester and think that is the best deal ever
• you have this natural bond with anyone you meet who is also a science major. They have been through what you've been through: Ochem, chem lab, physics, cell bio, genetics, etc. They understand your frazzled look, the glaze over your eyes, the chemicals still left on your hands, the 5 books in your arms, the NMR sheets sticking out of your binder. You have felt each other's pain (and occasional triumph). They are just as crazy as you are
• you joke about getting cancer from the chemicals in lab and then have a lively and informed discussion about all the things that are known carcinogens that are in the lab like it's no big deal
• People ask you what your major is and when you respond they exclaim, "ugh! that sounds terrible" "yes, yes, that's why I chose it you see, because it is terrible"

And a few that only a micro major would really understand:

• you see little seed pods that have fallen off of a tree and think to yourself, "those look just like the larvae that I spend two months injecting with the plague last semester"
• you go to the doctor and when you tell them that your cough was non-productive and that you have general malaise they say "okay, okay, what's your major?"

still loving little life and science (most days)

M

long day

I just purchased (and am hastily consuming) more junk food than I ever have in my college career.

Potato chips?check
Candy bar? check
Soda? check
cinnamon bagel? check

this, my dears, is the mark of just how long of a day its been.

my blood sugar just went up exponentially.

gotta love college.

M

jealous

Don't worry, this was totally my home for the last two weeks.

I believe

that bananas become ripe solely so I can make banana muffins with them.

yum.

"Like I say, you stick around and don't let nothing happen."
"You can depend on me," said Tom.
"It's not you I worry about," said Douglas. "It's the way God runs the world."
Tom thought about this for a moment.
"He's all right, Doug," said Tom. "He tries."

Dandelion Wine, p112

break in

 

I found this picture today on my camera dated from earlier in the school year. Apparently it was a busy time, or maybe someone was looking for something...

love it

I love that I find myself writing thank you notes on the day the world is supposed to end.

Guess I'm just trying to tie up any loose ends.

M

heart

I struggle sometimes to know what words I want to fill these pages. I've composed hundreds of posts in my head that I've never posted. I don't always know what I want this space to be. My thoughts yes, but on what? I never know if what I write is worth reading. Is it too personal or not personal enough? What's my motive? What image of myself and my life and my thoughts am I trying to convey? Who, dear readers, am I?

Several times I've thought about deleting mjots. I just never post on it as much as I want. I look at these design blogs or blogs of people who have hundreds of followers and I just don't see myself putting my life out there like that. So often a false sense of reality and life is portrayed or what is posted seems superficial and meaningless. But every time I seriously think about getting rid the suki diaries, I can't. I want this space to become something that is worth reading. Me, being true and real.

What follows is personal. Probably the most personal thing I have ever and will ever post on mjots.

Today I was supposed to do one of the biggest and scariest things I probably would have ever done. Today my life was supposed to have taken a defined and monumental course. I was supposed to feel excitement, anxiety, fear, relief, gratitude.

Today I was supposed to take the MCAT.

Rewind five months and you could not have imagined my excitement as I poured over the MSAR, looking at potential medical schools. Everything seemed to be coming together. I had the whole thing planned. And it was actually happening.

The few months after that seemingly golden time were (are) probably the hardest period of time I've had to go through. Details aside, plans changed. I took on too much and I couldn't handle it all. I knew in February that I wouldn't be taking the MCAT today. Yet, I held onto my spot for months afterward. I wasn't ready to let go.

All week I've been thinking about my alternate reality: what I'd be doing if I had really taken the MCAT today. Oh how different my life would be.

I wish I could say that it's all behind me. That I'm on a new course and I can see why I was derailed so jarringly. But the wound is still fresh, the infection acute.

In life we often face disappointments. Some are big and some are small. But guess what? Life goes on. We breathe in and out and one day it doesn't hurt so bad.

I'm getting there.

bradbury had it right

Everyone has a method to their writing. When I read this passage from the forward of the lovely book Dandelion Wine, I felt my feelings on the process were captured most perfectly with Bradbury's profound words:

[...] like every beginner, I thought you could beat, pummel, and thrash an idea into existence. Under such treatment, of course, any decent idea folds up its paws, turn on its back, fixes its eyes on eternity, and dies. It was with great relief, then, that in my early twenties I floundered into a word-association process in which I simply got out of bed each morning walked to my desk, and put down any word or series of words that happened along in my head. I would then take arms against the word, or for it, and bring on an assortment of characters to weigh the word and show me its meaning in my own life. An hour or two hours later, to my amazement, a new story would be finished and done. The surprise was total and lovely. I soon found that I would have to work this way for the rest of my life.