part 5: the unfortunate languishing in a tower part

I'm in Minneapolis. It is such a fun, fun city. There are a million things to do, a million people to meet. I can run and window-shop and attend festivals and visit museums and eat at a hundred different restaurants. But I can't help thinking how much better all of this would be if you were here.

All I want is to be with you.

I've never been the type to really miss people. I went to summer camp for the first time when I was seven or eight, and I was the only girl to not cry that night because they wanted their parents. I've traveled all over the world and have lived in strange places for months at a time. I don't get homesick. I tend to live in the moment with things like this, choosing to embrace whatever I was doing and wherever I was. And when I return, I always pick right back up where I left off with friends and family. I love my family and friends, and I love my home. I love being reunited with people I know and I love revisiting nostalgic places. But when I'm not there, I'm still okay. I don't dwell on it.

So I wasn't sure how this long-distance relationship was going to work or how I would feel about it, other than the fact that I knew that it wouldn't be easy. How would missing someone work? How much would I miss him? And how bad would it be?

It has been so hard.

It has been easy in the sense of continuing to grow our relationship. We still talk all the time. We text and call and facetime and we argue and tease and flirt and converse. We both put a ton of work into our relationship, and I can honestly say that doing this long-distance has not hurt our relationship at all. We've grown together, and we keep loving each other more and more with each passing day.

The fact that the above has been so easy makes the rest of it so hard. I miss distracting him while he studies and I miss having someone to hold my hand in the car. I miss the way he comes up behind me and grabs my waist and how we could cuddle after a long day. I miss telling him about my day face-to-face, and I miss watching him get ridiculously excited about things like space exploration and the tonal quality of a jazz trombone.

I miss him. A lot, it turns out. I've long been counting down the days till late September when I can see him again, and on paper it looks so short. But crossing each day off seems to take an eternity.

This has been the hardest part of the story so far.

part 4: the question that started forever

Ever since our epic first date, we had decided that we should always spend the Saturday afternoon session of General Conference in the great outdoors. We would listen to the general conference talks on the radio, and we would rock climb, and we would be inspired in the sunshine and rocky crags of Provo Canyon. It would be the best.

After the longest winter, it was finally April, and I was so psyched. The weather was just beginning to warm up. The snow was gone. The trees were finally beginning to bud. It smelled like springtime, and I was itching to be outside. And it was General Conference.

Mark and I watched the morning session of conference at the guys' apartment. Dawson had made breakfast, and we found a spot on the couch in between all of our closest friends. It was super cozy, and I remember cuddling with Mark and looking at everybody and thinking I was absolutely 100% happy.

After conference, I asked Mark if he wanted to get Panda Express, because that's what I always do between Saturday general conference sessions. I go to Panda Express, and I get the chow mein and orange chicken. General Conference is just not the same without Panda Express. Mark was totally down (#soulmates #cuethegag).

We got our Panda Express to go and drove up to Provo Canyon. We ate it in the car overlooking the valley and we talked and then it started to sprinkle. I was slightly devastated, because we had been planning this for so long. And then magically, it began to clear up again.

We got all our gear out of the back of the car and we began the trek towards the climbs we wanted to do.

Thrilled that the weather had decided to stop raining!
Yay for climbing! Yay for adventures!

We got there with plenty of time to spare, so we got to have some more great conversation before the second session of General Conference started as we set up all the ropes. I'm a super nostalgic person, so of course we talked about that first date. That first date had been a super pivotal afternoon for the both of us; that afternoon we'd both realized that we had some sort of connection, that this could be something special.

Then conference started, and we climbed, and every time I made it to the top of the rock wall, it was as exhilarating as that very first time. Back on our first date, I don't know how I made it to the top of the rock wall. It was sheer grit and determination because the rock wall was much harder than I expected, I'd never climbed outside before, and I didn't have a clue what I was doing. That, and I would have been so embarrassed if I couldn't make it to the top while Mark was watching. Turns out pride can do a lot of things, including hauling you to the top of a rock wall that thinks you have no business climbing it.

Rock climbing. 

General Conference drew to a close, and we started packing up. We hugged a bit and kissed a bit and agreed that it had been the best day ever and that we should most definitely continue this tradition.

Then Mark asked if I wanted to go geocaching. I'd wanted to try geocaching for the longest time, but every time we'd wanted to do it earlier, it'd been too cold (I'm kind of a wimp). But now, of course I wanted to go. So he found a geocache location somewhere in Provo Canyon, and off we went on our second adventure.

We walked through a couple of trails before we ditched them and followed a beautiful riverbed for a while. We walked past and around multiple cliffs, and finally, Mark said we were getting close. We walked up a narrow trail to a beautiful clearing, and he said that it was within fifty feet of our location. So we split up to look for the geocache.

I wasn't sure what to look for, but I figured I'd recognize it when I saw it.

Then I saw a striking green bottle laying against a rock in the grass. I picked it up, and told Mark I'd found something. It had a note inside and piece of twine hanging outside the bottle to pull the note out. I thought it was beautiful.

The green bottle in the clearing.

The green bottle up close.

I asked Mark if we should read the note. I was honestly dying of curiosity, but I was worried that it wasn't the geocache, and that it belonged to or was meant for somebody else.

Mark told me (tongue-in-cheek) that we should read it anyways.

I couldn't resist, so I pulled out the note with the piece of twine. The first two words I saw were "My love," and I thought, "Crap! I did just ruin somebody's hard work," and then I realized that the handwriting was familiar and I kept reading and it was only then that I realized that it all was meant for me from the very beginning.

I turned around to face Mark, and he was down on one knee. I couldn't say anything, and he looked at me with those eyes and asked me to spend the rest of eternity with him.

I had barely realized the note had been all for me and turned around, when I saw Mark on one knee.

The entire time, I had never suspected. When I saw him there, as soon as I realized what was happening, I was tremendously shocked and surprised and happy. It was the most momentous moment of my life, and I could barely speak.

I said yes. Of course, I said yes. It was all I ever wanted, and it was all the rapidly firing neurons in my brain let me say, but I said it with my whole heart, and I don't know if I've ever meant something so much in my life.

I couldn't believe it was actually real life happening. So so unbelievably happy. 

Let's be real, kisses happened.

Happiest I've ever been with a man better than my dreams ever were. 

I didn't realize this until it was pointed out to me, but this beautiful clearing was directly underneath the cave where we'd had that fateful conversation on our first date. Mark directed my gaze towards it and told me he'd put drinks up there earlier so we could celebrate.

So we climbed up to the cave, and sat on the rocks with our feet hanging off the edge and drank the most delicious carbonated grape juice. We held hands and celebrated and made toasts and I giggled and neither of us could stop smiling.

The little cave.

Officially engaged.
Coming atcha October 3rd, 2014

It's been said a thousand times before, but I couldn't be more in love with this man. I love his tenderness, his chivalry, and his thoughtfulness. I love the way we communicate and the way we handle our problems. I love how he understands my streak of independence, but how he takes care of me anyways. I love his nerdiness, and the way he loves my silliness. I love that he's strong in areas where I'm weak and vice versa. I love that we have the same dreams and passions and how when we look at the future, we feel like we can take on the world as long as we're together. I love all of these things and so many more, and I can't wait to spend the rest of forever with Mark Austin Stout.

April 5th, 2014 was such a happy day.

Also, this ring.
Can we just talk about how I still can't take my eyes off it? #ridiculouslyobsessed

*Mark arranged for Rachel, his sister and a wonderful photographer, to hide out during the proposal. She's the one who took all the fabulous proposal photos. Couldn't be more thrilled that she was there to capture the moment for us.

Go to part 5: the unfortunate languishing in a tower part

rising

 In fact a mature person does not fall in love, he rises in love. The word ’fall’ is not right. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. They cannot manage and they cannot stand – they find a woman and they are gone, they find a man and they are gone. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don’t have the backbone, the spine; they don’t have that integrity to stand alone. 

A mature person has the integrity to be alone. And when a mature person gives love, he gives without any strings attached to it: he simply gives. And when a mature person gives love, he feels grateful that you have accepted his love, not vice versa. He does not expect you to be thankful for it – no, not at all, he does not even need your thanks. He thanks you for accepting his love. And when two mature persons are in love, one of the greatest paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone; they are together so much so that they are almost one. But their oneness does not destroy their individuality, in fact, it enhances it: they become more individual. 

Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. How can you dominate the person you love? Just think over it. Domination is a sort of hatred, anger, enmity. How can you think of dominating a person you love? You would love to see the person totally free, independent; you will give him more individuality. That’s why I call it the greatest paradox: they are together so much so that they are almost one, but still in that oneness they are individuals. Their individualities are not effaced – they have become more enhanced. The other has enriched them as far as their freedom is concerned. 

Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness. -Osho

I love this. I love this so much. I used to be afraid that a committed relationship was directly correlated to the loss of one's individuality & independence & quirkiness. It's not true.

I'm the most committed I've ever been in my life and

I've never felt so free. 

I've never felt so good. 

My life is still as brilliantly vibrant as it was before I ever knew what love really meant. It is still as intense, adventurous, and unexpected. It is everything I ever hoped for, and the future is every bit as exciting as I ever imagined it. 

It's all those things, but with someone to hold my hand. 

Darling, thank you for taking my hand, and my heart along with it. 

part 3: in which we defeat the monsters

It was rather
beautiful: the way he
put her insecurities to
sleep.
The way he dove into
her eyes and starved
all the fears
and tasted all the
dreams she kept
coiled beneath her
bones.
-Christopher Poindexter

For a short period of time, I was so very afraid of losing Mark.

I had been so very careful to not fall in love before. I had never felt the fear of losing someone before, because before, it had never mattered. Now, all of a sudden, I had discovered that it could matter very much indeed.

The next month or so was probably the hardest one of our relationship. I couldn't stop thinking about everything he would have to give up for this relationship to work. There were really only two options at this point. He would have to be willing to turn down numerous wonderful career opportunities in return for the not-so-attractive option of starting all over in a place not particularly advantageous for any ambitious food scientist. Either that, or we would have to eventually break up.

And because I was so afraid that he would choose the latter option, I began to withdraw a bit. It didn't make sense, not when we were both in love with each other. But I guess I thought I needed to steel myself for the possibility of it ending, prepare myself to take it with grace. I was covering up the rawness with guarded affection, replacing vulnerability with slight aloofness.

Relationships can't work that way. You can't move forward while preparing to move backwards at the same time. I'm not stupid. I knew that. But I was pushing Mark away when the last thing I wanted was for him to leave, and I didn't really know how to stop.

He could have left. He didn't.

Instead, he stayed, and he told me over and over why he stayed. Why he wanted to keep staying.

He did it until I believed him and the clouded glass cracked and he saw everything.

And even when he saw everything, he stayed. Every fear, he allayed. Every insecurity, he kissed. He took everything I was and am and made me feel beautiful because of it.

That's why I stay. That's why I know I want to stay for the rest of my life. 

Go to part 4: the question that started forever

part 2: when love sits just across the table

I wasn't looking for anything serious when I started dating Mark. I knew that I was going to be leaving Utah at the end of year, and that Mark wouldn't be. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew it didn't really make sense to get into a relationship.

But it was so easy to talk to Mark and we always laughed so hard when we were together. I was incredibly drawn to who he was and so when we kind of just fell together naturally, I couldn't bring myself to do anything other than just live in the moment and forget about the future for a while.

Two weeks into our relationship, I was planning on going to Yellowstone with a bunch of friends. I debated on whether or not to invite Mark, because a weekend trip seemed a bit intense. I decided to invite him anyways. Spontaneous adventures are a huge part of my life, and I figured he might as well get introduced to that as soon as possible. He said he would come! He came, and the adventure was 100x more fun with him around. When we cuddled in the car as we drove from place to place in the park, I thought, "I could do this for a long, long time."

Yellowstone National Park

Mark has always liked surprising me, and he has always taken me on incredible dates. Whether to art museums, live music shows, ice palaces, the hot springs, frozen waterfalls, or Antelope Island, I am always shocked by the amount of thought that goes into them. He finds all the best food places around, and most of my favorite restaurants in Utah are places he's taken me. The German delicatessen and Bruges Waffles in Salt Lake City! That one pho restaurant in downtown Provo. Tacos 180, where I would be perfectly happy eating lunch for the rest of my life. The Lebanese restaurant with the best chawarma. The Mexican place where we had those amazing papusas. And so many others.

And all the simple things too. It was studying together in the library, and sneaking kisses in the product development lab between homework problems. It was me having a difficult and long day on campus, and Mark surprising me with Thai take-out for dinner. It was all the other countless times he brought me food on campus when I thought I was too busy to eat. It was doing Taco Tuesday every Tuesday night at Del Taco (don't ask me why I'm so obsessed--ask Mark) and running to In-and-Out at midnight. It was all the good night texts and the best hugs in the world. It was me realizing that my hand felt empty when he wasn't there to hold it. It was him hugging me till I didn't need it anymore that one night when I was upset, even though he was incredibly busy but too kind to tell me he had a billion other things to do. I didn't find out about that until the next day when I asked him about it.

It was him always supporting my dreams and helping me pursue my goals. How he embraced all my idiosyncrasies. It was his open-mindedness and his love for others. The way he just fit in with all my closest friends. The way he talked about his family. The way kids just seem to adore him. The fact that his family is amazing and instantly made me feel like I belonged. His adventurous spirit, his passion for life, his gentleness, his patience. How he could kiss me and make everything else disappear for a while. The way seeing him could instantly make a bad day better.

I'm not sure what I"m doing, but this was such a fun night in
SLC with Chelsey and Trevor.

Then all of a sudden it was November. I was so sick of school, and Thanksgiving break was coming up, and I was feeling restless. We were studying in the library, and I turned to him, and I said, "Babe, would you want to go to Arches with me? Let's go camping!"

He didn't even skip a beat, "Of course."

So we went camping in November among patches of snow. It was wicked cold, but it was so fun. Something about shivering and cooking hotdogs via lighter fluid because the wood is wet is a real bonding experience. We went hiking all day and I had never been happier.

One of the trails had a really steep dropoff and the entire trail was solid, slippery rock steeply slanted towards the drop-off. It was a dangerous trail, but we needed to get past it to get back. There was a huge bottleneck, because a bunch of other people were having the same problem. Mark got me down the trail safely, and then he went back to help everybody else, because honestly, that part of the trail was terrifying. Guys, grandmas, little kids, everybody. There's no way everybody could have made it down safely without him. We were probably there for around an hour.

One of the first groups of people Mark helped was this guy's wife and little girl. They watched everybody else trying to come down the trail for a while, and the man was like, "Wow, if your boyfriend is going to help everybody, you're going to be here for a while." We chatted for a while and then they left. About a half hour later, I saw the guy come running back, and he said, "Here. Take your man out for a nice meal afterward. He deserves it." He pressed something in my hand and ran back in the other direction. It was $40.

Mark did finish helping everybody down eventually, and we made our way back to our campsite. We did go have a splendid meal later with the $40, but I was more just in love with the way that it was so natural for Mark to stay and help until everybody had been taken care of, regardless of the fact that it was time-consuming and inconvenient. That's just who he is, and I love that about him.

Arches National Park

Amidst of all of this I was applying for grad school. I talked to a professor from NC State on the phone and he said, "Well, how about I just fly you out here? I'll show you what we have to offer myself." So he flew me out to North Carolina in the beginning of December.

I went from subzero temperatures in Utah to 65 degrees in North Carolina. Dr. Klaenhammer picked me up from the airport that evening and I instantly liked him. He showed me around the city a bit before dropping me off at my hotel and letting me know that he was having some grad students pick me up for dinner.

I went to dinner with two grad students who worked with Dr. Klaenhammer in downtown Raleigh, and we had a great time. I learned a ton about the program from a student's perspective which I loved. The next day I talked to a ton of faculty in the NC State Food Science Program. And everything about it just felt right, and I knew that that was where I was supposed to go to grad school. I had been so so stressed about it all semester long, but that weekend in Raleigh just settled everything for me. I just felt so good about it.

It wasn't until the airplane ride home that I didn't know what to do. I had been upgraded to first class, so I sat in this big chair in the dark in the front of the plane and sipped grape juice and tried to decide where Mark fit into all of this. And I didn't know.

But when I walked out into the airport that night, I saw him and I jumped into his arms and he gave me the most massive hug. He whisked me away to The Bayou, a jazz bar with incredible Southern fare in Salt Lake City. We sat at a table close to the band and it was amazing. We both love jazz, and The Bayou has the coolest atmosphere. I ordered gumbo. He ordered pasta. We talked, and I gushed about NC State, and we both kind of avoided the elephant in the room for a while.

And then he said, "I don't know if this is the best time to discuss this, but what does this mean for us?"

I said, "I don't know." My mind was rushing with a thousand different things, but I didn't know how to put any of it into words.

And then he said, "I love you."

And I still didn't have an answer for what was going to happen or how we were going to make it work, but all of a sudden I knew and I had words for what I wanted to say.

And somehow I was brave enough to tell him I loved him too.

He said, "I love you, and I want to try to make this work, even if you end up going to NC State."

"Me too."  And I meant it from the bottom of my heart.

Being in love is a wonderful, exhilarating, terrifying feeling. Love has a way of spilling into your life like water into the cracks of the pavement, making its way into crevices you didn't know existed. 

It came uninvited and unexpected, but it somehow managed to be the biggest feeling in the world. 

Go to part 3: in which we defeat the monsters

part 1: the beginning of the story

I first met Mark in the food science study room of the Eyring Science Center. It was sometime in April of last year. I thought he was charming and witty and handsome. I thought "Whoa, he's into jazz and rock climbing and science and adventures?" I thought, "I could date that guy."

And then I went to Malawi for the summer.

I came back to school in August and on the very first day of our Food Processing and Commodities class, I saw him again and recognized him instantly.

We said hi. It was cute.

The class had a five hour field trip every week, and we had a number of vans that would transport us to and from BYU and whatever food processing facility we were assigned to that week. Dr. Jefferies was going to assign one van as the "early van." This particular van was for those who had class right after the field trip. I was signed up for a class at four so I raised my hand when Dr. Jefferies asked who needed to be back on campus early as she was assigning vans.

Mark raised his hand too.

I was secretly kind of thrilled. He told me later that he'd raised his hand after he'd seen me raise my hand so that we'd get assigned to the same van for the field trips. WIN. 

We started talking on these super long field trips. We went to get Slab Pizza a couple times. This one time, Mark convinced me to dress up like a pirate and go to Krispy Kreme with him and a few other people for national talk like a pirate day. We each got a dozen free doughnuts. I got a haircut once and he told me I looked really good. Sometimes, we'd study together after class.

One day, after one of our field trips, we were walking out of the Eyring, and he said, "Say...wanna go rock climbing with me sometime?"

We went rock climbing over general conference weekend in Provo Canyon. Saturday afternoon session. We listened to conference over the radio, and it was the best conference session of my life. On the way back, we decided to explore a cave we'd seen on the way up to the wall. Inside that cave, we had the most amazing conversation, and I'm pretty sure I was thinking something along the lines of "This guy is an incredible human being." We had so many of the perspectives on life, the same curiosity about the world, the same drive to excel, the same desire to experience everything life had to offer. The same fascination with science, the same love and appreciation for history, culture, and the arts. I'd never met anybody like him.

Then Mark looked at his watch, and realized he was going to be late for priesthood session, so he dropped me off. I walked into my apartment and talked about him to all my roommates and realized that (OH MY GOSH) I might actually kind of like like him.

We went rock climbing for our second date--this time in American Fork Canyon. After we'd finished climbing, Mark asked if I wanted to go stargazing on top of the rock wall. It was kind of chilly, but he said he had a blanket and I wasn't ready for the night to be over and he was looking at me with this slightly crooked smile and

Of course I said yes.

Of course we held hands and cuddled.

The next weekend, we walked to downtown Provo because I wanted to see some art exhibit. We never found it. But he did kiss me. 

Totally worth it.

Go to Part 2: when love sits just across the table

graduation

I graduated from BYU in April with a bachelor's degree in food science, and minors in Spanish, chemistry, and international development. It's hard to believe that after five years, my undergrad is finally over! I'm proud of it though. Really proud. I worked hard for that degree.

It was five of the best years of my life, and it sounds terrible, but I'm already kind of sad that I won't be making the journey back to Utah in the fall. Provo is a special place.





I'm excited for what lies ahead as well though! After this internship with General Mills is over, I'm going to be starting graduate school in the fall with North Carolina State. There's a pretty large network of NC State grads here at Gen Mills, and they've all had really good things to say about the program. Yay for more school!

Love.

I have found the one whom my soul loveth. Song of Solomon 3:4

All I've got to say is that now I understand why poets write love sonnets and why King Edward VIII of England gave up his throne and why Penelope waited for Odysseus and why sometimes the classiest people all of a sudden think that the cheesiest things are cute (like, what!? you know what I mean).

Have you ever felt your heart growing?

Because I feel like mine might be growing every day.

Metamorphosis

I'm wearing this sweatshirt that says "Metamorphosis" on it. It's got this human eye on it, and then a compound eye right next to it. Then in small letters on the bottom it says "F. Kafka."

Every time I wear it, a couple people will ask "What does that even mean?" And then I say it's a reference to this kind of depressing story about a man who one day wakes up and realizes that he's a repulsive insect.

Some metamorphosis, huh.

That would have been one heck of a morning. Or at least, that's what you would think.

But it doesn't even faze him. He tries to go back to sleep.

How does one's life get to be so meaningless that waking up and discovering that you are an insect doesn't faze you? How do you try to go back to sleep?

I don't get it.

But I like thinking about it. Enough to buy the sweatshirt, apparently.

Oh, and I dig this entirely unrelated song. 

car accident

I was in a car accident the night before I flew home.

Mark and I were driving to his parent's place for dinner. We were in the express lane on I-15, going probably around 60mph, when we hit some slush or ice and lost control of the car. We spun out across two lanes of traffic, and came to a stop when another vehicle t-boned us on the passenger's side.

I was entirely calm until impact was about to happen, and then I'm pretty sure I screamed. I just remember looking out the passenger window at the car coming toward us and thinking, "Oh dear lord, that car is going kill me."

And then it didn't. I opened my eyes and I was 100% fine. Mark was fine. The lady in the other car and her two kids were fine. She'd seen the slush from our car and had been able to slow down enough so that she was only going 30-40mph when she hit us.

But we were blocking two lanes of traffic in the middle of I-15 and I was terrified that somebody wasn't going to be able to stop in time and that they would hit us again.

Then a police officer came out of nowhere. He was off-duty, just happened to be on his way home, but was in his cruiser. That police officer and the driver of a large tow truck that had also stopped were able to stop the traffic on the freeway for long enough for us to safely get the cars off the road.

Both cars were driveable, so we went to the nearest gas station where we waited for a couple hours until a police officer could make it. 

The passenger side of Mark's car is pretty bashed in. The airbags went off in the other lady's car so her windshield was destroyed. But everybody was okay.

I couldn't stop shaking for the first ten minutes after the car crash, and all I could think about was how lucky or how blessed we had been. I've done a lot of crazy things, but I've never felt that close to dying before.

The police officer that talked to us later that night said there had been a lot of accidents on the freeway that night, and at least one confirmed death.

I woke up the next morning with whiplash. I was so happy to wake up with whiplash.

I safely made it home the next day. Being with the family again has been bomb. Christmas was wonderful. Goodness, it's good to be back.

some thoughts

I'm done with finals. This fall semester of 2013 is officially over. This fall marked the last time I would walk up that awful hill on my way to class and have to stop because the mountains were ablaze with color. It was the last time I would ever come back from summer vacation, strangely thrilled to be back in Provo, weirdly excited to be learning again. I have only one more semester left, and I will be done. Done done. Done with my undergraduate education. It is the strangest.

This has nothing to do with anything. 

This is just a good song. Ya dig?

It has been the most interesting semester. In some ways it has been so stressful. In others, it has been the most incredible. For the past four years, I've known where I wanted to end up, and I knew what I needed to do to get there. I purposefully packed this stage of my life with as much travel and adventure as possible. I worked hard to get good grades, to land the right jobs, to get valuable experiences. 

I have made some of the best friends possible, friends that I genuinely love, respect, and for whom I would do just about anything. They're all over the U.S. and the world now, doing great things like I always knew they would. They dream big, and I am continually inspired by the things they do and people they aspire to be. I sit here in my apartment in Provo sometimes, and I'm like, You guys. Your lives. Don't ever ever stop.

I look back and I wouldn't change a thing.

This semester has been different. For one thing, a lot of my old friends have jobs, are pursuing grad programs at other schools, or are on missions. In short, many of them are no longer here. Furthermore, this semester marks the beginning of the end.

This past summer I tried to decide what I wanted to do with my life. I went from grad-school-is-all-i-ever-wanted to being 90% sure that I wanted to get a Fulbright to Greece. Then I changed that to Korea. And then all of a sudden, I decided that I didn't want to do a Fulbright. I just wanted to go to grad school, the way I'd always planned.

I thought that my dream was to go to Cornell. Then I looked at their program and I just didn't feel it. So I started looking around. I emailed a bunch of schools. Talked to a bunch of professors on the phone. I didn't feel any of it. So I thought, All I really need is a master's degree. I can do just about anything if it's just for two years. Maybe it doesn't matter that I find lipids to be kind of boring. I mean, U-Mass IS a really good program.

And then people started telling me about how it was so hard to get a masters degree because professors only wanted to take on PhD students. So I started thinking about whether I wanted to get a PhD. I didn't. Not even a little bit. But it did start making me worry about whether I'd get into grad school if all I wanted was a master's degree. To top it off, I took the GRE without ever really studying for it, and the end result was less than exceptional. Turns out I still hate math. And I thought, I'm destined to live in a van down by the river and work at Walmart for the rest of my life. 

Then I started talking to NC State. They ended up flying me out to visit their food science grad program. And I loved it. I loved the feel of Raleigh, the other grad students, the faculty, and NC State itself. And oh my gosh, the research. It is groundbreaking, and it excites me far more than lipids ever would have.

I am working on the official application process right now, but it's looking like I'll be going to NC State (if everything goes according to plan) to get a master's degree in food science next fall. I'm thrilled about it. I can't wait to try living in North Carolina, to see what new adventures happen there. It is a weird thing to realize though that after my internship in Minneapolis this summer that I will be driving east instead of west to go to school.

So yeah, this semester has been different. I kind of feel like the work has been done. I'm at where I need to be. My grades don't matter as much as they once did anymore, and so school doesn't stress me out as much as it once did. I'm also dating someone. I don't ever talk about my dating life on this blog because dating tends to be messy and complicated sometimes, but there you go. And for what it's worth, I'm really happy.

I've always been kind of afraid of graduation because I thought that once "real" life started, I wouldn't be as free to do whatever I wanted, to pursue whatever struck my fancy. I realize that grad school isn't exactly "real" life, but it's different than being an undergrad, and I'm excited for it. I don't really know what's going to happen, but it'll be an adventure.

I think I'm totally ready for this next semester to be my last semester.

In other news, I'm flying home tomorrow! I can't wait. It's going to be THE BEST.

happy second of december!

I have a [not so] secret love affair with good a capella music.

In honor of the fact that it is indeed December (and only 23 days until Christmas Day), here is a Christmas song.

I mean, those harmonies! Seriously. The beatboxer is incredible. And the bass, Avi--mind blown. Plus, he looks so happy in this video. That beard. That face. He's so perfectly goofy.

In other news, I had a lovely Thanksgiving break. Laura, Ty, Dan, and I made tons of delicious food and we all ate at Laura's place. Laura's parents were there, as well as one of Ty's old roommates.It was maybe one of the most delicious Thanksgiving dinners I've ever had. Laura, Ty, Dan, and Bryan are basically my family here at school. We're here for each other. They've always got my back, and I've got theirs. Anyways, Bryan was with family in Idaho, but it was great to spend Thanksgiving with the rest of them.

I spent Friday and Saturday hiking and camping at Arches National Park. It was freaking cold. The wood never really caught on fire, so we basically cooked our hot dogs via lighter fluid. And it was cold. Did I mention that? But the hikes were INCREDIBLE. So beautiful. The trails were perfect, except for this one part where I thought I was going to die (it ended up being the best part of the trail though--once it was over). We almost ran out of gas on the way back. We didn't. It was the best, and it was exactly the kind of adventure I needed to get through these last three weeks of school.

Speaking of which, three more weeks of school! That's it!

Three more weeks, and I'll be headed home.

on running away.

I go through certain phases where I can get kind of obsessed with certain poets. Anyways, right now it's Clementine Von Radics, and I just bought her book. I can't get enough of her.

She was kind enough to autograph the small homemade paperback copy of poems she mailed to me. I am silly enough to admit that it made me rather giddy.


Advice to Those Like Me, With Hearts Like Kindling

Darlings, sometimes love will come to you like a fire
to a forest. When it does, be braver than I was. Just leave.
Take only what you can carry. No tears. No second thoughts.
You have hands like tinder boxes, the smallest spark
will kill you.

Get in the car. Pour water on the maps. Avoid gas stations.
Don't look at the flames dancing in the rearview mirror.
Go to new cities, climb on rooftops, and slow dance with
your coldest memories. Wallpaper your home with every
dusty, desperate love letter you swore you'd never send.

Find a stranger with sharp edges and uncharted hips
Press your stories into their skin and forget you ever knew
his name. Just promise me you won't think of burning
or embers. Even when there is ash in your hair. Even when
there is smoke in your mouth.


There was this one time I went to a hairdresser my sophomore year of college. She gave me fringe bangs that day and I was thrilled because I thought that they were edgy and exciting and different, and goodness, I needed different that year (heartbreakingly, fringe bangs don't make your life that much more edgy, exciting, or different).

She also told me about how two years after her high school graduation, she ran away to San Francisco for a year with her best friend. I thought, "Forget the fringe bangs. I need to run away to San Francisco." For a split second, I was so sure that it would solve all my sophomore year problems.

I am an avoider sometimes, a kinda restless wanderer. I sometimes leave with no explanation at all, whether or not it has something to do with problems or love or possibility. With hands like tinder boxes, sometimes I think I'm afraid of what could happen if I stay too long. 

I leave, but it really has nothing to do with bravery.
Part of it was just because I could.
I could simply leave.
Shockingly easily.
Always.

I flit from place to goal to the unknown to what I've always thought I wanted. 
This poem makes me sad because I realize now that I have always chosen to leave
because I thought I was afraid of burning.
Now I'm afraid that maybe that wasn't what I was afraid of after all. 

Tell me that someday there will still be smoke in my mouth.
That I won't be able to wash the ash from my hair.
I would like to know that there was at least one thing that I couldn't just run away from. 
That I didn't run away from. 
That was powerful enough to make me stay. 

I think I would like that. 
I think love is supposed to be like that.

so go downtown (where all the lights are bright)

You know what's scary? Graduate school. It's absolutely petrifying.

Can I just run away to San Francisco and pretend to be a hipster? It seems like it would be easier. I could pretend like I've never aspired to do more than eat clam chowder (#alldaylong) and wander along fisherman's wharf. I could frequent Starbucks. I could write angsty stories and neurotic poems and get those horn-rimmed glasses that everybody seems to be wearing nowadays. I could probably be perfectly happy. Maybe. 

I know I don't actually want easy. I just think I do when it's the middle of the semester and grad school apps are overwhelmingly awful.  But here's the deal, I'm going to grad school . I've decided it's what I want to do. I'll like it. I just need a grad school to decide I'm worth the investment is all. Oh goodness, I'll be so glad when this entire process is over. 

I've eaten my weight in cheese and sausage today. Seriously though, I've probably eaten $40 worth of expensive cheeses of all varieties. That's what happens when you happen to be the 251 lab instructor and it's the week where you get to teach all about cheese. The entire situation is exacerbated when that very same day you also happen to have that one micro lab where all you do for a whole hour and a half is eat more cheese  and all manner of similarly delicious things.

I keep thinking I should feel slightly sick about that, but I don't. I feel nothing but good about this. If we're talking about the smoked gouda, that is. Because

this girl was not born to eat blue cheese. I'm not sure if anybody is ever born to eat blue cheese. In fact, I'm almost positive the consumption of blue cheese could be turned into some sort of extreme sport. 

black and white and grey

A friend of mine (Matt, you always post the best things) posted this article on facebook, and I just happened to see it. It's an interesting take on religion, and I like it. Here's the link if you want to read it.

Maybe it's controversial. People sometimes think that when it comes to God, things are black and white. You're obedient. Or you're not. You have faith. Or you don't.

When I look out at religion, the window starts fogging up with my own breath. And all I can see is how I feel about God and how I feel about faith and how I feel about my testimony even when all that seems to be there is the condensation dripping down the pane. My world is black and white and all sorts of grey--beautiful, beautiful shades of grey. It's not unsettling and it's not murky. It's the kind of grey that almost kills you with its clarity and acuity, even if you don't know what it means, really. It's the calmest kind of a misty day.

It's the kind of grey that lets me respect the way a Muslim prays five times a day. It helps me understand the LGBT community. It lets me appreciate a Buddhist temple. It's the kind of grey that lets me remain strong in my own faith, even when I don't have all the answers.

My world is not all black and white.
Perhaps it should be. I don't know.

Perhaps nothing is more personal than your relationship with God.

So maybe you see God differently. So
disagree with me. It's fine. I dig it. Be singular. Live the most personal religion that ever was.
I'm okay with that. Are you?

home

I bought my plane ticket home the other day. I'm excited to go home. It sounds ever so cliche (please forgive me, do), but there's no place like home.

People don't always know Michigan. It's just one of those states on the map. Truth is, that doesn't really change until you've run down a sand dune in the summer or seen the frozen, rippled edges of Lake Michigan in the winter. You need to experience the brilliance of fall time up north, or walk among the tulips and daffodils in spring. And downtown Holland, be still my heart. It's one of the best parts of Michigan, and I can't help but be overcome with nostalgia every time I even think about 8th street. It's brilliant. The state is brilliant. 

Christmas is easily my favorite time of the year. Christmas lights all over the trees (especially the white lights, which just knock me out). Wreaths and holly. Snow and hot chocolate and the Christmas markets in Centennial Park. The Salvation Army people with their bells. Delicious baked goods. And the music. I live for the music. I am about 97.6% sure that the first Christmas song of the year (played on the Friday after Thanksgiving, of course) is the best song I listen to all year. 

I'm going to be home for Christmas time. Home is with family in a cozy house in the middle of the woods, and I love it. I hope it snows like crazy, because gosh, it's so beautiful.

Our Christmas break is depressingly short this year. I think I'll be home for a mere week and a half. It will be the best week and a half even though I'm super bummed that I'll barely miss Evelyn's dance concert on the 20th. Dance your heart out, baby girl. I'll be rooting for you all the way from Utah.

Chaos.

Once upon  a time, I used to think the idea of being a chaotic, beautiful mess was terribly romantic, in a kind of fascinating and devastating sort of way. 

To embrace hedonism and anarchy and passion with a ferocity that scares away all your old demons with new ones. To languish away on sofas and swear at the banality of the weather. To hold ticking bombs because that soft staccato countdown is the only thing that can still make your heart race with anticipation. To vortex disaster, to make it disappear into the void where all such disasters go as they patiently await you again & again & again.

Here's to choking the dull rankness of unexpressed artistry and unrealized genius with your bare hands around the neck of a glass bottle. Here's to laughing with your mouth [alone], to lying on the bathroom floor [alone] because there's really nowhere else to go. 

But it is not romantic. 
It is not romantic at all.
What it wants is romanticism.

long time gone.

Can we have a quick conversation about how wonderful this song is? I like it. Will you like it too? Say yes!  Like it a lot, in fact. I'll only respect you for it.

Anyways, take a listen. Let whatever musical groove you have melt all over the place. Just do it. 

My sister wrote the cutest letter the other day. 

Dear pumpkin farmer,
Please do not pick me. I am afraid of my inside being scooped! My family is important to me. I have a good friend of mine. You need to keep me here. I do not like to be lit up. Please, I like the field.
From,
Evelyn the pumpkin

If she got any cuter, I think my heart would explode. 

Oooookay, I'm one of those people now. I'll stop. 
Sorry.

good news

I got the research and development internship at General Mills. I got it. I still can't believe it sometimes.

I've wanted this internship ever since I joined the food science program four years ago.

Anyways, I am thrilled. Thrilled about working for General Mills, about doing R&D, and about getting to live in Minneapolis again. Can't wait to see that city skyline! Not to mention the amazing running trails, great food, good music, and the overabundance of things to do and see.

Summer 2014 should be grand!

Imperfection.

Sometimes it takes my breath away.

How beautiful imperfection can be. 

There's something raw and real about rain. About the emotional crack in a singer's voice that comes out only in concert, and not the edited CD track. About the people that fight the entire world for one small step in the right direction. About loss, acceptance, forgiveness. 

This past Saturday I went rock climbing outside for the first time.

As I clung to a cliff face absolutely and 100% stuck beyond belief, I looked down and was struck by how high I was. My fingertips were numb and I could feel my legs and arms shaking. I kept slipping and thank god for the rope, or I probably would have died.

I hate not being strong enough to pull my own weight. I hate being stuck. I hate not being good at something, at not intuitively knowing what to do next.

And then I let go, and the rope took my weight.

It is 100% cheating, and for the first two seconds I hated it.

And then I realized I'd forgotten to put my hair up before I'd started climbing. And the breeze was in my hair and the sun was kissing my face; I looked behind me and I could see the entire valley. And it took my breath away.

Sometimes life ends up being spectacular, even if it's not perfect.

P.S. I did make it to the top, and that moment, too, was pretty freaking glorious.