it doesn't interest me-

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living, I want to know what you ache for. It doesn't interest me how old you are, I want to know if you are willing to risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine. It doesn't interest me where you live or how rich you are, I want to know if you can get up after a night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and truly like the company you keep in the empty moments."
-Oriah Mountain Dreamer

On another note, some stuff's been coming up that's been making some of my future plans uncertain. Although I love spontaneity and random acts of adventure, not having any kind of certainty makes me kinda really nervous. 

So I'm just gonna pretend that whatever happens is gonna happen because that's the way it's supposed to be. Right?

It's never been hard for me to dream high and make big goals. It's been a challenge to accept that failure to achieve what I aspire to (whether that be through some fault of my own or some external circumstance) is sometimes the best thing for me though. 

Dear lord, why is that so hard? 

positive science and exact demonstrations

Hurrah for positive science! Long live exact demonstration!
Fetch stonecrop and mix it with cedar and branches of lilac;
This is the lexicographer or chemist...this made a grammar of the old cartouches,
These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas,
This is the geologist, and this works with the scalpel, and this is a mathematician.

Gentlemen I receive you, and attach and clasp hands with you,
The facts are useful and real...they are not my dwelling...I enter by them to an area of the dwelling.

I am less the reminder of property or qualities, and more the reminder of life,-
-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass

I've spent minutes and hours and months over the past few years learning about the sciences. I've bent over graduated cylinders and beakers and painstakingly titrated acids and bases. I can draw long chemistry reactions on the board and show you how electrons hop from atom to atom to create specific molecules that we can manipulate for personal use. I can tell you the number of CFU's of a certain organism are in a given sample of food, provided I have the proper lab equipment. I can draw you structures of amino acids and tell you which ones our body can synthesize and which ones we have to consume in order to avoid PEM. I can use NMR spectroscopy and IR absorptions to come up with molecular structures.

But at the end of the day, I walk outside to my car. Sometimes it's dark outside and sometimes it's not. But as I walk to my car, I can look at the mountains and everything else I love and sometimes I think "The facts are useful and real...they are not my dwelling...I enter by them to an area of the dwelling."

That "area of the dwelling" is a plethora of things.

But mostly it has to do with all the things that bring joy. It's life, but more than that, it's life so real and vibrant and passionate that you can't qualify it through reactions or quantify it with numbers. Sometimes I forget that after hours in the library or in a lab. And the question begs answering--if all that one learns in school--those facts, those things--if they are not my dwelling, than why do they matter?

They matter because all those things and many other things add up to create the "Carpe Diem" moment. That moment where all of you just kind of comes together and you just freaking seize the day. Over and over and over again throughout an entire lifetime. I think that's why I love research, why I love exploring, why I love learning, and traveling, and reading. Science and math and facts from the pages of history--all of it can be used to pursue life wholeheartedly. It exists outside of the books. It explodes into real life.

Happiness is hard to measure. In fact, experts within international development have struggled with how to measure "happiness" and "satisfaction" for decades, and I think that we still haven't figured it out. Maybe it's not possible. But it's what I'm trying to make my dwelling.

And as I walk, I think

"I am less the reminder of property or qualities, and more the reminder of life--"

and I am happy.

Carpe diem, folks.

first day.

First day of the semester! I'm taking microbiology, the microbiology lab, second half of organic chemistry, international nutrition, Spanish phonetics, Science of Biology, and Doctrine and Covenants.

Sadly (or maybe happily), I'm kinda glad to be back. Provo and I have this weird love-hate relationship, where every time I drive into Provo, I'm like "ahhh. home." There's something comforting about seeing the Y on the mountain and the SWKT and goodness, even going to Smith's just feels so familiar. It's all sorts of weird, because I'm usually always so excited to leave Provo.

Or maybe I'm just glad to be back because I haven't had any of my classes yet. Who knows?

Either way, I'm excited for what this semester (and this whole year!) is going to bring.

In honor of the day, here's a great song.

Flapper Girl

I realize I've been blogging an excessive amount lately. But as luck would have it, I am stuck in the SLC airport until 4:00, and my flight was supposed to leave at 12:50. I'm bored out of my mind, so blogging I am.

You know how people ask you when you would choose to be born if you could pick?

For as long as I can remember, I've always said either the 1920's or the 1940's.

I'm not sure why. The entire idea of flapper girls and women a la Rosie the Riveter has always fascinated me. I guess I liked them because they weren't afraid to break out of cultural/societal norms and be something that was slightly scandalous at the time. You don't like the idea of me making guns in factories? Too bad. You don't want me to cut my hair? Oh well. The hair cutting and smoking and drinking of the 1920s might not seem like a big deal. Actually, it might sound kind of like a bad deal. But I guess what I'm getting at is that that was one of those moments in history where women decided they'd do what they wanted to do, not just what society said was proper. I'm not saying they were necessarily happier as they were, but at least they made some kind of conscious decision as to what kind of person they wanted to be, even if it was a little out there.

To tell the truth, sometimes I rather feel like a flapper girl--a little out there--in this BYU bubble of Mormon culture.

But hey, what the hell?

I wouldn't change it.

trekking through bryce.

In the last package I got from my mom, she gave me a little something something with a note that said, "Treat yourself."

I treated myself today and went for a hike in Bryce Canyon National park. It took forever (like almost four hours) to get there. The roads were awful (once you got off I-15) and even on I-15, thanks to the semi-trucks that continually blew dirt and slush and salt all over my windshield (and the rest of my car), I could barely see half the time. Sidenote: my car is dirtier now than it has ever been before. Somewhere on this journey, I also lost my debit card. Twas a rather frustrating journey, to be completely honest.

However, once I got on Highway 12, things started looking up. For one thing, I finally woke up all the way. And secondly, the views got 1000x better than they had been before.

Somewhere along Highway 12, nearing the park.

Also somewhere along Highway 12. 

I got to the park itself, paid the fee, and realized that the trail I was originally going to hike was closed. So I drove to Sunset Point (one of the vantage points in the park) and decided I was going to wing it with the help of the trail map. I found the trailhead to one of the trails and just started walking. It was such a good decision. The views were breathtaking and besides one couple (who I got to take a picture for me), I didn't see another soul. I went on whatever trails I felt like, just because I could. It was cold enough so that the water would freeze in the mouthpiece of my camelbak, but thankfully, moving around kept me plenty warm. It was just me and the park and it was all so so so pretty that I almost wouldn't have had it any other way.

Note: I did try to find a hiking buddy, Mom. Unfortunately, everybody was either home already or unable to go. And I did have Mace with me. Among other things. Just in case.

Parts of the trails I used had the snow beaten down already. However, the last two miles or so that I did consisted of knee-deep powder. I think one person had been on it before I used it, which was good, because it was easy to see where the trail was supposed to be by their tracks. The bad news is that their footprints were so wide apart I couldn't walk in them so I waded through knee-deep snow for the last two miles. That was when I realized how grateful I was for underarmour and the the thick wool socks I was wearing. I was also breaking in my hiking boots for the first time, and I'm pleased to say that they worked out very well.

the skyline.

self-portrait. it happens when you're all by yourself. 

beautiful. 

thank you, random couple. 

adventure is out there!

I hiked until about 4:30-5:00ish. That was about when my feet started to get really cold and also about when the sun proceeded to sink lower and lower. So I hopped back in my car and made my way safely back to Provo, thanks to my brother and my mom, both of whom talked to me on the phone while I was feeling particularly sleepy.

I thought Bryce was stunning with the snow. And honestly, trekking through the snow was kind of fun. However, someday I'd like to return in the summertime. There are so many more trails over the summer and your time wouldn't be limited by how much cold your feet can take.

And note to self: don't ever forget to charge your camera battery before such happenings, or there's a very good chance that your camera will die halfway through. 

trail life. 

Living Life Slightly Scared

It sounds strange, but I'm trying to live life slightly scared.

Scared, to me, is good. 

It means that I'm getting out of my comfort zone, that I'm really experiencing life the way I want to experience it.

The first time I ever left the country (that I can actually remember) was when I went to Mexico in 2010. It was scary. First international flight on my own, minimal Spanish skills, no friends, no travel experience whatsoever. 

Riding the train from Barcelona to France and realizing that it was pitch black outside and we really didn't have any clear idea as to where our hostel would be? That was kind of scary.  

Getting kicked off the train in Mbeya at 11:30 at night due to worker strikes definitely caught me off guard. 

The reason I love all of these moments is because they made me go into something slightly scared and come out of it slightly stronger. 

So recently, I've actively been trying to do things that intimidate me. 

The second time we came back to Stone Town (Zanzibar), I decided I wanted to explore it on my own. Stone Town is unique in that you get lost every time you try to go anywhere. It's also full of interesting characters, both good and maybe some that are slightly less-than-ideal. I went out, I did get lost out of my mind, I had a man grab my arm and tell me he was going to follow me home unless I bought something from him, and granted, during those couple hours, I did feel slightly more vulnerable. I got back to the hostel though and I felt good. I did it. 

At Victoria Falls, I decided I wanted to go bungee jumping, precisely because it was something I always thought I'd be too scared to do. It was actually terrifying and a split-second before I jumped, I thought, What if this is a horrible, horrible mistake? But it wasn't. I survived, it was the experience of a lifetime (so so beautiful), and maybe most importantly, I had proved to myself that I could do things I was scared of, that I was capable of jumping off a platform into the unknown. 

the moment.

As I've been thinking about all the things I want to learn and do in the future, I've realized that a lot of them are going to feel a little bit like those hours in Stone Town or those seconds on the edge of the bungee jumping platform. They'll scare me a little bit. Hiking/backpacking (what if I get lost? or hurt?), rock climbing (what if I make a mistake? what if I fall?), skiing/snowboarding (What if I break my neck? and since when did this mountain get to be so high?), running a marathon/relays (What if I physically can't do it?), traveling alone (What if I get robbed/attacked? Will I be lonely? How am I getting from Point A to Point B?)--adventures in general are supposed to be scary, I think. But I never want to stop having adventures, so I guess right now I'm resigning myself to a life of slightly scary things.

It's so worth it. 

This fellow right here is a rock star and writes an awesome blog about all his backpacking adventures all over the world. Take a look at what he's go to say about embracing fear: http://onestep4ward.com/motivational-monday-its-scared-travel-alone/. 

"Apathy will be the death of all of us if we're not careful, and that's what our comfort zone represents. So don't be apathetic, get lost then find your way. Be scared then find your courage. Hit the road, embrace your fears and live your life. We only get one of them."

It's good stuff. 

Seaside and Cannon Beach.

Our last day in Oregon, Jenny and I went to the coast. 

I've practically grown up on the beaches of Lake Michigan. The Oregon coast is entirely different.

Maybe it's the fact that we visited in the end of November, but it felt so much wilder. The rocky crags, the waves, the wind, the wet sand, the lack of people.

First, we went to Seaside. Here's a couple shots.

Approaching the beach.

Jenny running into the ocean.

Stick people doing stick people things. 

A lone couple and their dog walking on the seashore. 

Next, we headed to Cannon Beach. Before we headed to the beach, we got some food because we were starving. Cannon Beach is a charming, if rather touristy, town, and we found a cozy place to get burgers and clam chowder. Cannon Beach itself was breathtaking. Take a look.

Cannon Beach.

Jenny and the ocean and the sun.

Me & the beach.

Pure rock. So incredible. 

I really do not have too much more to add to this post in terms of additional words. I feel as though the pictures rather speak for themselves as to how beautiful it all was--and a picture is worth a thousand words, right? Honestly, I could have spent hours there, bundled up with a good book and a thermos of hot chocolate or something.

Even with all the rain, I could see myself living in the Northwest and liking it. Really liking it. I would love to do a good hiking trip there someday, although camping in the rain has never been my favorite. I hear the rain isn't so bad during the summer though. At any rate, there's this relay race that I've wanted to do for a couple years now. Check it: http://www.hoodtocoast.com. Now that I've been to Oregon once, I'd love to go back! I feel like a race would be the perfect excuse.