Wise man, Mr. Lewis

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell."

-C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Face

Ever feel like you can't face the things you need to do?

That was tonight. So instead I ate Dove chocolate and watched TV. Not one of my finest moments, but to be honest, I feel better. I've been caught up in the dark and windy webs of my mind for the past three weeks and I needed a break. I just couldn't think about anything anymore. So instead I curled up under the covers and pushed away the guilt.

Tomorrow I'll press reset and deal with the homework and decisions. Tonight I'm just going to be.

The girls those boys will marry

Girl 1: look at this
Girl 2: your abs?
Girl 1: yeah this line
Girl 2: ugh. Is that from your spray tan?
Girl 1: no it's from when she waxed me

Why there are no boys to marry at BYU

Boy 1: I mean when you read you have to imagine things yourself. I would rather have someone tell me what it looks like.

Boy 2: I know, seriously. I would much rather play on my ipad.

this thing

I walked in, finding only a smattering of people in the theater, all sitting in pairs. Great. My solitary presence won't be as easy to hide. There is something about going to a movie alone that always invites pity. I was fine with it (I mean who really wants to go to a French documentary about philosophy anyway?) but I felt like daggers of pity were being shot my way. Oh look at that poor girl, she came to international cinema all by herself. She doesn't have a cool, artsy boy with her like I do. Trust me, I don't need your daggers of pity or your artsy boys thankyouverymuch.

I sat with my head tilted to one side resting on my hand, willing myself to make it through all 84 minutes. I looked at the clock: It's only been 32 minutes? No way. I checked the clock again. 37 minutes. Kill. Me. Now. The movie was about Jacques Derrida, a French philosopher. It was weird, intriguing, boring, nauseating (can you say shaky and awkward camera movements?), interesting, thought-provoking, and really lame all rolled into one, 84 "feels like 1,000" minute documentary.

At one point someone asks him what he thinks about love. He gets all bent out of shape because he cannot (ce n'est pas possible!) answer a general, open-ended question like that. She struggles to narrow the question and eventually drags a response out of him. He tells her that when one talks about love, one has to ask who or what. Do you love the "absolute singularity" of the person or do you love that they are this or that, that they do this or that? Are we in love with the person or what they are?

I think when we are learning to love someone (not just romantically, but that too) we love what the person does, what they like, what we see of ourselves in them. But when we truly love someone, we love what Derrida calls the "absolute singularity" of that person. We just love them. period.

It made me think about the thousands of bridal showers I've been to. "So tell us all why you love Tom." "Well, I love Tom because he's so kind, he's funny and smart, and he always does such nice things for me." When we talk of love, we usually talk of what we love about the person, not the person. But as we grow in love, we learn to say in our heart: "I love Tom because he's Tom." He's enough.

I heart reading

"Literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege, of individuality. There are mass emotions which heal the wound; but they destroy the privilege. In them our separate selves are pooled and we sink back into sub-individuality. But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do."
-C.S. Lewis

"The value of myth is that it takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by 'the veil of familiarity.' The child enjoys his cold meat (otherwise dull to him) by pretending it is buffalo, just killed with his own bow and arrow. And the child is wise. The real meat comes back to him more savoury for having been dipped in a story; you might say that only then is it the real meat. If you are tired of the real landscape, look at it in a mirror. By putting bread, gold, horse, apple, or the very roads into a myth, we do not retreat from reality: we rediscover it. As long as the story lingers in our mind, the real things are more themselves."
-J.R.R. Tolkien

did it

I literally did it. I finished it all. Last week, in an attempt to wrap my brain around the massive load that was before me, I made a large to do list of everything I needed to do before leaving on a jet plane tomorrow. The list was looming and large, but IT'S DONE.  The impossible became possible. I didn't think I'd be able to finish it all, but every last piece of homework has been crossed off the list. I wish I could enjoy the awesome sense of accomplishment and relief, but alas I'm running three hours of sleep and still have 6 1/2 more hours until I can have a break and call the day done. Who knows if I'll make it. Each minute that goes by I count as a victory. My head is starting to get foggy and my mind going. If there were things for me to do, I wouldn't be able to focus enough to do them. Done? yes. Delusional? yes. BUT done.

that's me

"I thought only the first assistant went to the benefit."

"Only when the first assistant hasn't decided to become an incubus of viral plague*."

-The Devil Wears Prada

*please note that the real plague is caused by the bacterium Yersinia pestis, not a virus. Not that I'm trying to argue with Miranda or anything...

wisdom

"what is the point in me being almost [23] if there is still so much for me to learn?"

-Emma

{un}published part iii

life.
setting the timer to say "ah! burning cookies!"
taking home two heavy old (free) chem books so I can use the paper to wrap gifts
using "shut-up" as an exclamation

***

He was prisoner and bound to Rome by ship to answer to the law of Caesar. His journey had already been long, taking him to far lands, crying with a loud voice, praying someone would listen. It was a mission, a purpose in life he was thrust into unexpectedly.

The ship bounced from island to island.

 

***

It was sunny today. I knew that it had to be, that the light radiating from the hearts of millions on this Easter morn would easily diffuse the clouds.

I've been reading this after a link from my sista, and some of the posts have been particularly poignant to me. It is so important to stay connected to saints. We all need that sustaining power. One such post particularly touched me, not so much what the post said as what it referenced to. This happened last week and Elder Holland's talk on the Atonement of Christ touched me deep down to the very core.

Today we sang He is Risen! I was immediately transported back to two gardens, as I was during Elder Holland's talk, two gardens I love. Two Gardens that transformed my heart during a time that seems so long ago. I suddenly missed Jerusalem more than I had in a long time. I wished I could have been there on this easter morn, in the garden tomb, to celebrate the ultimate gift. I know that I do not need to be there to feel and celebrate, but I miss it.

On the top of the program is a classic picture of Mary kneeling before the risen Lord. her neck is extended up to him, so her eyes meet his face. What is interesting about the painting is that both Christ and Mary have their right hands extending out towards each other, but their left hands facing themselves, coming toward their

***

My first, and so far only, Utah adventure was to the Cathedral of the Madeleine in Salt Lake. We went up for a concert. BYU faculty played pieces of Chopin,

***

It seems so far away, so long ago. And yet... there are moments when it seems as if it was yesterday when the loss seemed to much to carry. That the bond was severed and then fused back together, stronger than ever.

I forget sometimes. I forget what it feels like to lose that much. I forget how it feels to be so profoundly hurt inside. As time goes on the wound heals and life as it is now, seems much more of a reality, of a normality than the past ever did.

Sometimes I forget the bond I felt to those around me that also lost. A bond so tangible I could





M.



part i
part ii

rebel

got my first parking ticket today. In fact, it was my first driving violation reprimand of any kind.

I know, I know. I'm such a goodie two-shoes. But now I'm going down the dark and slippery slope of breaking the law. Next thing you know I'll be pulling off a jewelry heist.

very jokey*

I feel like many of my posts lately have been the serious end of things. While I am naturally inclined to contemplation, I think I would explode if my life was consisted solely of such thought. Since I want mjots to be a place where I am real and true to myself and to you, I feel like I ought to tell you what isn't so serious in my life at the moment:

• I've rediscovered the jackal face. Most likely only one or two out of the five people reading this will know what I'm talking about, but trust me you're missing out. I was walking home the other day and something made me think of it. I contorted my face into the jackal and preceded to burst out laughing. I did it over and over several times, laughing to myself all the way home. Oh how I've missed you jackal.
• In honor of Harry Potter seven part two, I adorned my key chain with my awesome and very large snitch. I love seeing people's eyes get wide as they see it on my key chain. "Is that a snitch!?" Problem is, it isn't always the most appropriate item to have on a key chain. Like when I'm walking into the Temple for example. That's when I leave the snitch in the car. Unfortunately there are places (though few)  where Harry Potter is not appropriate. 
• I have an unhealthy and slightly ridiculous obsession to fake cheese and Taco Bell. I know, I KNOW. It's absolutely disgusting, but alas, it is the truth. The former addiction I contribute to growing up with dearest sister A, who shares the same love of unnaturally smooth cheese. You know those little snackpacks that have the fake cheese, crackers and the little red spreader in them? Totally ate one of those on campus a few days ago. Felt like I was five. The latter I attribute to too much eating in the Cougareat freshman year and getting sick of eating everywhere else. I rarely buy food on campus, but when I do it is always Taco Bell. Always. The other day I neglected to bring dinner and was beyond starving. I defaulted to Taco Bell, enjoying my fake cheese. Two hours later I attempted to go running. As soon as I hit the pavement the nausea set in. Taco Bell and running are not friends. Don't think I'll be going there for a while.
• A couple of nights ago I was trying to open a packet of raisinettes that were sealed in plastic. I grabbed the nearest semi-sharp object, a butter knife, which I then proceeded to slice not only through the plastic, but also through my finger. Smart, M, smart.
• Speaking of Harry Potter, my french classroom is the Shrieking Shack. We'll be in the middle of class and all of the sudden there will be this "whoooooo" ghosty sound coming out from what I assume is the vent. When you open the door to walk in, it creeks so SO loudly. Good thing I haven't shown up late yet ...
• I've reverted back to childhood in terms of entertainment tastes. I've been reading 500 books at once lately (which I do not recommend, nor do I usually do, but I must be have been feeling extra indecisive this summer I guess) all of which I have stopped reading upon starting school except for one: Calico Captive. My world was forever enriched by dearest sister E, who introduced me to the book many years ago because she loved it when she was young. Will Miriam ever find her way back to the settlement? Will she be reunited with her sister Susanna who is being enslaved at an Indian camp? Will she choose the gruff Frenchman or the polite and churchy Phineas? I must know! If you love French-Canadians, love triangles, hunky French fur traders, Indians, and sewing, this is the book for you. I find myself coming home after a long day and wanting to curl up in my bed and read my fluff. Also, I've been watching a lot of the Cosby Show lately (thanks to my old roommate Jenni), which brings back all sorts of great memories.
• And finally, I recently watched an amazing Bollywood film, Dil Bole Hadippa with a dear friend which I now have been quoting from for days. I don't know if I have ever laughed so hard at or enjoyed a movie so much as I did this one. *This is the source of the amazing title of this post. The leading man says to his counterpart, "I am falling in love with you buffalo-girl because you make my life very jokey." One day I hope to make a man's life very jokey too.

loves,

M

you know you're a microbiology major when... part V

• You find yourself in the middle of nowhere Provo, in a dark, empty field digging up soil next to the road under what you think is an alfalfa plant, trying to find evidence of the mutualistic relationship between the plant and rhizobia
• you have a class that is solely about pathogens that could be used as bioweapons 
• you find yourself mentally correcting people when they talk about being sick (there is no way you could have strep; you have a cough...)
• you have classes that requiring the reading of novels and you suddenly have no idea how to plan your time or study. You mean I have to read this entire book in three days?
• you are so so so excited for the movie Contagion. Not only that, but everyone you know is excited about it and one of your professor's organizes a microbiology group to go on opening day (which unfortunately I worked during).

As the new semester begins I am finding more reasons to love little life.

cheers,
M

Want to read more?
part i
part ii
part iii
part iv

being in the world

Finally. This post has written itself in many forms in my head hundreds of times over the past month but I can never seem to pin down my words until now. More of the pieces needed to come together and I've taken up more truth from others who have much more wisdom than I.

As of late I have begun to be intimately acquainted with one Mr C. S. Lewis. Over the next 3 1/2 months my life will be essentially and almost entirely consumed with his words. My baptism into his wisdom has been The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape explains to young, naive Wormwood, that one of the worst things that can happen is for humans to learn to live in the present for that is where the Enemy (God) would have us live. The demons would have us live perpetually looking toward the future. In order to do so, they try to blind us to the divine rhythm of regular life and "twist it into a demand for absolute novelty" (p136, Letter 25).

It is easy to yearn for the new, to push on to the next thing, to demand excitement and indeed novelty. We can waste our lives in it. So often, especially during my intense college years, I am guilty of bowing my head and plowing through to survival, only to take one breath and realize the semester is gone.

Life is like an old-time rail journey--delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.

This quote, which is often mistakenly attributed to President Hinckley (although he did quote someone else who said it, source here) has always been slightly unsettling to me. What it says of our expectation of life (to be exciting at every turn) adn the work that it requires to thankful is absolutely true. But what I learn each day on this earth is that the these delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts (the mundane or disappointing moments in life) are filled with infinite beauty. No they are not the beautiful vistas or the bursts of speed, and those moments of awe on a grand scale are precious an important. But the beauty in the small moments is what defines the everyday of your life. And the everyday of your life is what you are made of.

Look at the sky. The clouds have seemed more picturesque and the expansive blue more telling and true. Practice opening your eyes wider to take more of it in. Simplify your life and surround yourself with only that which is necessary or that which brings you happiness (like black cropped pants and owl piggy banks). Abandon homework to bake brownies. Eat cheesecake on the floor in the middle of the night. Read your textbook outside in a sundress. When you walk out of the temple, notices the flowers as you slowly re-enter the world. Write down delightful phases uttered by wacky professors. Count your steps. Dance in your room to that song that makes you smile as you put away your laundry. Look the person you are listening to in the eye and see what God sees as they speak. Notice their funny quirks and notice your own. Look up from your lunch just to people watch. Devour the words that you read. Make connections between each little piece of your life and laugh at how interconnected all the superfluous stuff really is. Write a note to that friend, but write it an unexpected way just to see them smile. Label your food in fridge with things like "M is for magical" or put a pirate patch on the man on the label of your pasta sauce. Live with your heart open. But most of all tell God that you love this everyday. Tell Him you love walking up that steep hill and making a fool of yourself in French class. Take notice of each moment and be thankful. There is joy to be found here. Wonder at your everyday world and it will whisper it's secrets to you.


trying, oh trying to wonder.

M

lovin on

holland mints
black cropped pants
(500) days of summer soundtrack
sunlight
dreaming
watches
the Book of Mormon
tan nail polish
gratitude
french

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

***