notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 13.

who knew that the ambition of writing gradnotes
at least once a month while in grad school to chronicle the experience,
was actually too lofty of a goal?
oops.
but here we are.
because that's where we are in america today.

- - - - -

everyone hits the point in grad school.
the point of points that is just part of the experience.

the i'm almost broken and i legitimately don't know if i belong in this career or if i should have signed up for any of this in the first place or why i wrote essays and went through interviews to tell people why i belong here but what am i even doing with my life right now.

^^ THAT point. always in run-on sentence form.
(don't you agree, janessa?)

some people hit it in the dead middle.
others hit it towards the end-but-not-quite-end.
some people at the very beginning.
others at the not-quite-beginning-but-not-yet-middle.

that was me.
last january and early february, i had a really hard time.
reeeheheheheallly hard time.
in which i considered dropping out.
it wasn't just a joking statement that we all make sometimes.
it was a literal, consistent thought.

i hated clinic when i started.
i mean, maybe not hated it.
i liked the clients overall.
but they were trickier cases.
i had no idea what i was doing.
planning and making lesson plans killed me.
it took me forever, i hated feeling like i was a teacher,
because i purposefully chose to not go into education.
some people like making up activities and plans like that.
it made me want to vomit and ugly cry all at the same time.
and.
clinic is the real life.
clinic is what this career is.
and.
if i hated it, what did that mean about this very career choice?

january was rough on a lot of levels.
(have i ever mentioned that i hate january?
oh, right.
just thought i'd throw that out there.
in case you didn't catch it the first five-hundred times.)

in all the winter darkness of struggling with surviving, though.
jillian made me a playlist.
emmylou in january.
with just a little snark and dark, and a whole lot more empowerment and feel-good jams.

in time, it got better.
i'm glad i had some of my most complex clients at the start,
because everything else has felt like a breeze.
it really did empower me.
it really did show me what i'm capable of.
and it really did help me learn the process.
(and find ways for me to not hate it.)

but for january hearts, jillian made some jams.

- - - - -

i've been thinking about my jam lately.
you know, that moment of being in the zone,
able to shut down any outside anythings and focus like a beast?
the jam.

i used to be really good at getting in the jam.
especially in my last semester of undergrad.
(i mean, i was dying and numbing myself which is emotionally unhealthy.
but like. it was really effective for gettingshiiiishtuffdonelikeaboss.)
actually, the whole rest of my undergrad after my mission
i was pretty dang good at finding the jam.
for school, for grad school apps, for the gre.
i could get all intense like that for the things i really was motivated towards.

but.

i've lost my jam.
sometimes i worry lately that i'm not ambitious enough anymore.
that i've lost the ability to get intense and in the zone.
#burnout

but here. now.
in this, the final finals week of my life.
(don't even try to talk to me about phd's.
also the end of the semester is bad timing for that in general.
krem has no intentions of ever doing research or phd or being a formally enrolled student ever again.)
i have no jamming in me anymore.
people keep telling me to give myself a break.
because i'm getting married and stuff. (in 10 weeks!)

but i don't feel like i'm allowed to use that excuse.

i mean, obviously i'm distracted.
obviously i prefer spending time with my love to spending time with school.
but shouldn't i be a better grown up and able to shut everything down and focus once in awhile?
because it's actually really hard for me. #confessions
i feel like i shouldn't be given that excuse.
i don't do much wedding related on a daily basis.
occasionally kind of, but mostly i've been shoving it off to christmas break.
and granted, there's just a lot going on right now.
but. shouldn't i still focus more?
sometimes i feel guilty that i'm not very good at getting into the jam.
that i don't even try sometimes because i'm just so burned out.

just some real talk streams of SFDs* for your saturday.

but today.
today i've been listening to emmylou in january.
and it's my jam.
it's giving me my jam back.

shake it out by florence + the machine is my spirit animal.
spirit song? can that be a thing?

and every demon wants his pound of flesh,
but i like to keep some things to myself.
i like to keep my issues drawn,
it's always darkest before the dawn.

shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out.
and it's hard to dance with a devil on your back, 
so shake him off.

i'm also really into james taylor right now, with a side of billy joel.
and my other jam of the day is you were born by cloud cult.

you were born into a strange world.
like a candle, you were meant to share the fire.
i don't know where we come from, and i don't know where we go.
but my arms were made to hold you, so i will never let you go.
cause you were born to change this life.
you were born to chase this light.

because sometimes all you need
are some jams to give you your jam back, right?
some jams for january.
jamming january.

in honor of education and a final finals week,
i leave you with a photo from the depths of old photo books.
just a little preschool babykrem front and center there from over 20 years ago.

finals week and regression into an incompetent human
alleviated in part by lover, spotify study playlists, and playlists from the bean.

*SFD brought to you by anne lamott and brené brown,
the brilliant humans that they are.
also, probably everyone everywhere
should read rising strong 
at one or multiple points in their life,
because it's just that good.
not even one bit exaggerating.
you're welcome for the gift idea.

merry christmas.
happy finals.
are we done yet?
baaaiiiiii.

i'm trying to write more.

and not be insecure about it.

because writing is good for me and my heart and soul.

(because, realtalktotallyhonest: i'm really insecure about writing any personal words lately.)

and i have stopped writing this year, 

with really good reasons because my focus has been elsewhere.

but i'm trying to start again in multiple forms and venues:

emails, blogs, maybe journals.

messy and stormy and wild mess, though it may be in the process, 

i'm trying.

so if you're bothered by the drafts and messes

that come in writing my thinks, feels, and life:

carry on.

this old world must still be spinning 'round.

man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn't calculate his happiness.
fyodor mikhailovich dostoevsky, notes from the underground.

i saw this quote once about how talking about our troubles and problems is our habit. instead we should break the cycle. talk about our joys. focus on the positive, you could say. express gratitude for what is working and going right. calculate the happiness instead of tallying the troubles.

i'm just as guilty as anyone of getting caught in this cycle.
frustration with the constant deluge of stresses, particularly in grad school.
it's hard. it's frustrating. it's exhausting. it just is.
but.
i wish.
i wish to not get so caught in those troubles.

there's a beautiful bright future ahead.
personally and professionally.
there's so much that i've learned.
personally and professionally.

and.
i'm trying to be more conscious of
the good
here and now and always.
to soak it in and revel in it.
to calculate it up and forget the tally of troubles.

- - -

i really love walking in the cold. last december, i once walked to and from a homecoming down in provo that was a 15-20 minute walk down a hill (and back up the hill to return) and winding through the streets of provo. my grandma was horrified when she found out i walked. it snowed on the way there. it snowed even harder on the way back. but something in that grey cold on the day that marked two years since i'd returned from ukraine, a walk in the cold just felt so right.

i mean. let's not get carried away. i don't love being cold. i don't love when shivers dig deep into your bones and it feels impossible to ever be warm again.

but there's something about walking city streets (or abandoned streets) with a chill on my face in the dark that just. feels so nostalgic and cathartic.

it simultaneously kills me and thrills me.

#justukrainethings

- - -

i've been listening (#thiscommutinglyfethough) to a book lately about trauma and the effect on mind and body. it's fascinating and horrifying and inspiring all at the same time. a beautiful perspective on the human experience and mindfulness. and especially valuable in context of experiences i've had in the past working with people (particularly children) from rougher backgrounds.

in addition to that, though. even more now i see.

i had a mild case of ptsd upon returning from ukraine.
(which is a very large can of worms on its own.)

but it's just interesting.
to hear and see.
to reflect upon and recognize
just how far i've come
in these almost-three (!!!) years.

there's so much to ukraine that often i can hardly even let myself think about it. but other days it bubbles over and i remember her in all her beautifully sincere, suffering, frigid glory. don't cry for me, Украина. the truth is--i'll always love you. i can't help it. though it took some ice-chipping to reach and see, you are a land of gold. and i'd be remiss if i didn't credit those joys.

i've hardly ever loved so deeply as i did then.
i've hardly ever suffered so deeply as i did then.
isn't it funny how those two experiences so often come hand-in-hand?

it's a deep, inexplicable experience in a deep, inexplicable place.
there's something about that eastern land.
something that can't be expressed,
but only felt and experienced personally.

pain and suffering are always inevitable 
for a large intelligence and a deep heart.
the really great men must, i think, 
have great sadness on earth.
fyodor mikhailovich dostoevsky, crime and punishment.

the darkness that hangs--
it's not a myth.
there's a literal different heaviness in the air there,
as mystical as that may sound.
in a literal and figurative sense.
there's a vibe that can't be spoken,
but is shared in knowing eyes by those who have been there.
though anyone who truly digs inside finds,
a land and people of pure gold.
the kind that could only come of
knowing sadness in a way that cultivates the deepest kindness.

she was harsh, but so good to me.
as, i think, so many others would say, too.

with so much distance now,
i've been trying to remember again.
what was it that made it traumatic?
what was it that made it so hard?
what spurred the need for that recovery period upon returning for nearly all who were there?
many things.
combinations of things.
but.
i'm remembering.
i'm grateful to have experienced it.
i'm grateful to be home.

anyway. i guess i just am saying.
i've been thinking about my ukraine more than usual lately.
there i experienced some of the most
magnified horrifying and magnified goodness
that i've ever known.
and i'm also saying that i like to walk in the cold.
something about it stirs up something deep in my soul.
and also that--
i don't care who you are or what your background is--
this book is fascinating and insightful.

- - -

i'm getting married in 77 days.
7 is one of my favorite numbers.
(7 and 8, if you wanted to know.)
there's a lot i want to write about it.
(let's be honest, there's a lot i want to write about a lot of things.)
some days it feels like a blur of time that will never come.
other days it feels like it's only a week away.
i suppose that's how it goes, isn't it?

most of life feels like a blur these days.

you know what doesn't?
the fact that i picked up my wedding dress yesterday.
despite nightmares that i would hate it,
it's fine because it's the most beautiful thing.
erryone can just take a deep breath and breathe easy now.

- - -

i'm exhausted.
deep-in-my-bones exhausted.
thank heavens grad school is winding down.
are we done yet?
it's not even that it's hard at this point.
i just. it's just so draining.
i'm excited for externships.
terrified.
but excited to experience more fully this profession.
it's a beautiful one, you know?
a hidden gem, this speech-language pathology business.

but also.
sometimes i feel like i'm losing neurons, not strengthening them.
like. maybe i'm actually getting stupider, not smarter?
maybe.

- - -

i'm behind on pretty much everything in my life.
top of that list is probably in writing the heart and soul of life.
i feel like i've lost the ability to write anymore in general,
but also about myself, my heart, and my life.

okay, so it's a tie at the top of the list for
how behind i feel on all the school-related things
i need to accomplish in the next 10 days.
including things i've barely started.
woof.

- - -

thus begins the end of one of the fastest years of my life.

i do love twinkle lights and twinkle season.
happy december.

love and air.

i believe in love. 

love that's real, love that's strong,

love that loves on and on.

yes, i believe in love. 

(i believe in love, dixie chicks.)

if you were to gently press two fingers to the wrist of love, i believe you'd feel a gentle, steady pulse. a consistent beating matched with harmonious inhalations and exhalations, all of which together universally signify one very important attribute: life. 

i was in romania when i learned for the first time in my adult life what it truly means to love. to see the face of love and know what love really means. since that time, it's only become magnified and expanded upon. anything i had ever known about love up to that point converged into one, distinct moment: when i saw, for the first time, the face of love. 

most mornings at the orphanage, i purposefully went upstairs first, even though i knew my other kids were already outside playing on the swings. there were three who could walk, and a few others who were invigorated by means of a wheelchair carrying their restricted bodies.

the rest? they remained quietly upstairs, consigned to cribs or beds due to their physical state. three, especially--let's call them felicity, danny, and amelia. three precious beings with cerebral palsy stretching from their brains through their bent limbs and down to their toes. they were always in bed. felicity and danny were side-by-side in two beds smashed together, a special, silent kinship between them, amelia in a crib near the foot of their bed. 

on all those days i spent with them, i sought to discover this one thing: what keeps their heart beating. what does the beat of their love sound like? so i rested my fingers on their souls and took a listen, allowing it to seep into my soul.

one sweltering morning, i made my way up to them to massage their under-used muscles, sing to them, and talk to them. sometimes it was in romanian, sometimes it was in english. i don't think they minded. and as i spent a bit of time concentrating on amelia, i looked deep into her eyes and was surprised with the love i felt inside myself. that was the moment that i realized my love for them, not as a collective unit, but as individuals. i loved the way amelia always perked up with a certain song i'd sometimes sing. i loved the connection between felicity and danny. i loved danny's ever-present smile and cheerful disposition. i loved felicity's gentle sweetness. to say nothing of all the other kids and all the other moments--all those moments that have since become memories to show me my love for them.

and not a single one of those three ever uttered a single word. without a single word exchanged, a door of love opened. inside that door? i came to know their individual identities, trapped within bodies left wanting for a bit of anything. nevertheless, they were content with the breaths they had. invigorated even more by such willingness to give and partake of the breath of fresh love.

i've never had my heart so fully filled as it was then. in reaching into their souls.
i've never seen so directly the influence of love on a human soul as i did then.
my heart swelled wide with love that i gave so freely, and received more than i ever could have anticipated.

there's something about little humans--
they way they love so easily, openly, and willingly.
the sound of the beats and breaths of their love is almost deafening, 

invigorating everything it touches.

love breathes like a filter,
dissolving anything that once was toxic.
with love we breathe.

(this little rough draft of words written late june 2016.)

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 12.

okay, okay.
i know.

I KNOW.

so maybe it's been over two months
since i've had a little note about anything at all.
(shoutout to janessa for noticing and appreciating the struggle.)

i've been a little preoccupied.
that's part of it.
also, i've had a hard time sitting down to write in any form,
aside from soap notes and reports, of course.
cause those thangs never end.
ever.
(insert all the unamusedemojifaces here.)

but i'm going to try.
i'm going to try to catch up on
the twelve (read: trillion)
different things there are to write about.

turns out getting engaged (!!!!!!!!! << times infinity)
on top of the usual grad school rigor
means you fall off the planet.
honestly speaking, though?
i got none regrets over here.
pretty sure natum's has got none neither.

(clearly my language abilities are excelling these days.)

unfortunately,
i'm not there yet.
not quite ready to make that journey
into the writing cave.
instead?
i have an exam to study for,
sessions to plan,
soaps to soon write,
more reports to write,
and projects to complete.
(or start. you know. same struggle.)

in the interim,
before i actually can give myself a minute
to enter the writing cave,
i grace you,
the handful of people who even read this blog (hi, janessa👋🏼),
with this hilariously adorable video
of me and my fiancé being delightfully awkward and charmingly hilarious.
(cause. you know. as of october 4th i have me one of those fine fiancé thangs.)

here we are, right on over here.

it's fine. i don't know portuguese either.
mostly our facial expressions are funny.
(to me, anyway. i get myself a little giggle when watching parts of it.)
and we do speak english for a shining little spell in there.

(we know. we're nerds and adorable.🤓🤗)

plus a shameless selfie for good measure.

because. why not?

( you're welcome. )

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 11.

the clinic has been flooded with new students these days.
a bunch of perky first years running around,
all with apprehensive terror in their eyes.

were we that perky?
we don't think so.
gosh, i hope not.

have you ever noticed that the true sign of
feeling like you're getting the hang of something,
is when you're no longer the new kids on the block?

i mean.
we're fully aware of the terror of what graduation means.
we're fully aware of how much we don't know.
we're fully aware of how grossly unprepared we feel for the real world.
but.
also.
we're fully aware of every second of the past year.
we're (becoming) fully aware that.

we really have learned something.
we really have learned a lot.

in this field,
you spend your whole life learning.
any given client can walk in your door,
any given child can walk into your school,
any given patient can end up in your medical facility.
and suddenly nothing you've really learned applies anymore.
suddenly before you is a brand new puzzle.

we can't know everything.
especially considering how young this field is.
oh my gosh is there so much we don't know.

but you know what we do know?
we know how to tackle anything.
we know what to watch for and how to approach things.

the main difference i've noticed in clinic this fall
compared to previous semesters,
(especially compared to back in january)
is the autonomy we're provided.
our supervisors.
generally speaking--
they trust us.
they follow our observations,
validate our line of thinking,
support the conclusions we come to.
i mean.
of course they're still supervising.
of course they're still the licensed authority in the building.
but they've stepped back much more than before in all areas,
not just in the therapy room.

and you know what?
our plans and thoughts and observations?
they're usually on exactly the right track.
they provide guide posts, of course.
but.
it's much less supervision,
and much more corroboration.
the reins of implementation are entirely in our hands.

little glimpses into the eyes and souls of those terrified first-years
confirm this beautiful truth:
the very worst that grad school has to offer?
it's over.
we've long-since embarked on that downhill slide.
and the light at the end?
it's finally starting to appear.

just see how far we've come.
hallelujah.

wishes kept.

i feel the need to write tonight,

but i couldn't quite tell you why.

perhaps a continuation of what i started writing months ago on love.

maybe on clients and graduate school. 

maybe on things closer to the heart.

however.

i'm in the midst of one of those phases of chaos 

in which exhaustion is perpetual, 

and processing life never gets put into concrete words.

i wish i had words more.

i wish i didn't say that so much.

but i do.

i know myself.

i know i have to write.

and often--

writing, 

in some form or another, 

is the answer.

it's how i come to understand 

and muster through 

this thing called life.

i want to write a whole post dedicated to the experience of 

being involved in the intensive stuttering clinic.

i want to write about life and love and people and connection.

i want to write about the hand of God.

i want to write about families and those connections.

i want to write about my whole first year of graduate school,

now that it's almost the beginning of the second year.

i want to write about a lot of things.

i want to change the world, 

instead i sleep.

song of the day: keep breathing, ingrid.

i sleep.

because it's all i can do 

to keep breathing.

explosions of light in the sky.

( because i just really really love the fourth of july. )

don't you worry, there are stars up above.

put your dreams away for now,

i won't see you for sometime.

i am lost in my mind.

i get lost in my mind.

momma once told me,

you're already home where you feel loved,

i am lost in my mind.

i get lost in my mind.

don't you worry.

don't you worry about me.

cause there are stars up above.

(lost in my mind, the head and the heart.)

there's this article i read for my counseling class earlier this summer. there was a chart that went through different feelings that are experienced as a part of the reaction to having a child with a communication disorder. (or grief in general.) shock, anxiety, depression, anger, among others. and guilt. it defined the symptom of the feeling, a definition, the risk associated, and the potential value of the feeling itself. almost all of the feelings resulted in at least some kind of value. some kind of relief, release, comfort. all except for one: guilt.

Friehe, Bloedow, & Hesse (2003)*

i have a complicated relationship with guilt. starting with the fact that i hardly had experienced it prior to the age of 21. then whatever little boy had his finger in the dike to hold the sea of guilt back got distracted for a time, and thus ensued the deluge.

in some parts of ukraine, it nearly consumed me. nothing feeling enough. the weight of the world on our shoulders. the impossibility of it all. and who else could there be to blame than our own efforts? there wasn't a contingency plan for all the things that are entirely outside of anyone's control. what if we weren't doing enough? what if our best was still yet to be attained? how do you even define your best?

i've greatly improved over the past almost-four (ahhhh!) years. often i even forget altogether, really. but every once in awhile. it comes back. the immensity of imperfection within strivings. the immensity of the weight of trying to do the best possible thing in every circumstance.

quite frankly, it's been quite awhile since i've wrestled with this guilt in my bones. but earlier this week someone asked me to substitute for their sunday school class. i was asked on a thursday, which is always a rough day during summer. i'm always worn down and feeling like everything is impossible by that point in the week, but still having more to do before the week is complete. taking accidental naps like it's my day job, and buried in reading and planning and writing.

i know it's a seemingly little thing, but that one request triggered a string of guilt. you're supposed to say yes to opportunities to serve, right? it's supposed to be a wonderful opportunity to learn and grow, right? don't they always tell stories about the person who went the extra mile when they were already stretched too thin and now that's the moment that changed their life? like knocking on one more door as a missionary.

i'm not discrediting this principle. i'm really not. i saw the value time and time again, as a missionary choosing to talk to one more person or knock one more door, as well as in quotidian aspects of being alive, like choosing to do one more thing before hanging up your hat even though you're already exhausted. but you know what? sometimes that one more contact was someone who said things like, go home, yankee. sometimes that idea of one more article, part of a chart note, or whatever it may be, is enough to make you want to vomit. sometimes, you have to know your own limits and set your own boundaries.

and that's okay.
it's okay to say no.

it took me quite a reckoning (and a six hour delay in responding) to figure out how to say no when i didn't have a reason aside from: this-is-one-more-thing-that-will-break-my-back-if-i-try-to-say-yes. to reckon with the demons i crafted, though any of these ideas were never explicitly taught, in the culture in which i was raised that encouraged the virtue of compliance and helpfulness. but, i did it: i said no.

in the new testament there's a story of a woman with jesus in the midst of a crowd. this woman with an issue of blood sees jesus in a crowd and is filled with the hope and belief that if only she could touch even the smallest corner of his clothing, she could be healed. he was in the midst of a throng of people, on his way to heal the daughter of jairus, when this woman came through seeking healing and wholeness. it was jesus who noticed that she had touched his clothing. they were in the midst of a throng, and when jesus stopped and asked who touched him, peter gives a slightly dumbfounded response to comment on the crowd around them. but as recorded in the gospel of luke, Jesus said, Somebody hath touched me: for I perceive that virtue is gone out of me. (the account can be read in luke or in mark.) while there is much that can be gathered from the story of this woman and her faith, i love this story for a different reason: because of how jesus becomes aware. to perceive that virtue has gone out of him, doesn't that imply his own sense of self-awareness? to know oneself in order to recognize the fluctuations of energy and virtue going in and out? 

Healing a bleeding woman, the Catacombs of Rome

i think there's a valuable lesson in that. in the importance of knowing oneself. the importance of seeking to care for those around you, but also recognizing that everyone needs time and place to refresh and rejuvinate. even jesus had his moments in which he went up to a mountain to be alone, such as after feeding the five-thousand (see here or here).

and as we go through the process of all that being alive entails, there is solace in knowing, there's a place for taking time. there's a place for figuring out experiences by digging inside and walking around for awhile in them. and while going through life, there's great solace in knowing: there's little, if any, value in guilt.

"With the gift of the Atonement of Jesus Christ and the strength of heaven to help us, we can improve, and the great thing about the gospel is we get credit for trying, even if we don’t always succeed. (...) We take some solace in the fact that if God were to reward only the perfectly faithful, He wouldn’t have much of a distribution list. Please remember tomorrow, and all the days after that, that the Lord blesses those who want to improve, who accept the need for commandments and try to keep them, who cherish Christlike virtues and strive to the best of their ability to acquire them. If you stumble in that pursuit, so does everyone; the Savior is there to help you keep going. If you fall, summon His strength."
--jeffrey r. holland, tomorrow the lord will do wonders among you.

rome never was built in a day, now was it? to each their own threshold of what can be handled at any given moment. and. you know what else? there's nothing wrong with saying no and giving no excuse whatsoever. because there's something to be said for knowing oneself. for being aware of where you are and what you can or want to do. and what i can do today may be different from what i can do tomorrow. because that's just life, you know?

all in the name of each having their own path,
and each knowing that path for themselves.
recognizing one's own abilities.
setting your own boundaries.
and knowing when to say no.

oh, and. it's okay. i won't judge if you say no to some social engagements simply because the 'being around people' quota for a day has been reached. me, too. (totally a real thing, amiright?)

give yourself a minute to get lost in your mind.
the stars of all your dreams will still be waiting for you.




* Friehe, M., Bloedow, A., & Hesse, S. (2003). Counseling Families of Children with Communication Disorders. Communication Disorders Quarterly, 24(4), 211-220. http://dx.doi.org/10.1177/15257401030240040701

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 10.

last weekend i took a weekend trip with gradschoolbffallyson to her home in vernal.
we laughed, talked, and slept.
played games and took walks.
boated and roasted s'mores.
oh, and we studied.
a lot.

that whole big-exam-on-a-monday-in-the-summertime thing can be a real bleen, you know?
(motorspeechisarealkillerrrrrrr.)

people laughed when i told them.
ha. right. vacation. boating. like you're actually going to study.

ha, is right.
joke's on you.
exam aced.

also, turns out vernal is a hidden gem.
and i'm obsessed with their balconies, sunrises, and sunsets.

kremilyferightnow in a nutshell:

i stay up late and get up early.
i write a lot of soap notes. (when i die, you could bury me in all the documentation.)
i work play with a lot of preschoolers. (literally 70% of my grad school client tx hours.)
i fall asleep accidentally. (#noregrets)
i complete a lot of online additional requirements. (whatisupwiththissemesterandonlineadditives??)
i spend a lot (a looooooot) of time on i-15.
i take sanity breaks. (like aforementioned spontaneous trip to vernal.)
i worry about the future. (don't even get me started.)
i try not to think too far ahead.

whether or not i'm actually learning anything or growing in my abilities as a clinician?
to be determined. #workingonit

you really must be tired.
what you wrote was completely lacking
any of your usual flowery language.
--my m.

^^this is actually where we're at in america (and krem's grad schooling) today.
#realtalk
[and for the record, i don't one bit regret today's accidental almost-two-hour nap.]

also, in july we can start saying that there's only 10 months left until graduation.
and in august we're in the single digits.
not that anyone's counting.
(we're totally counting. and trying to avoid drowning along the way.)

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 9.

nothing i write lately feels worth sharing.
i feel like i've lost the poetic knack i once had.

i try.
i really do try.
there are a number of things
i've been trying to write,
but i just.
can't.


i had this (clearly foolish) idea that summer semester would somehow be smoother than previous semesters.
i had this (clearly foolish) idea that somehow it would be less stressful and not quite as consuming.
i had this (clearly foolish) idea that i'd more easily get a handle on everything.
i had this (clearly foolish) idea that clinic would not require so much of me.

clearly, i was wrong.

i wish i had more to document this graduate school experience lately.
i mean, i have pages and pages and pages of notes written about clients, for classes, etc.
but the breezes and gusts that blow through me in the process,
shaping how i think, who i am, and what i see within those i work with, myself, or my future.

but when the task at hand is to stay afloat,
by any means possible,
when the water is exactly at your head--
well, that doesn't leave much time for soul-searching, detoxing, and processing.
the small moments i gobble up in order to revitalize myself and maintain sanity--
those rarely if ever allow for the taxing task of writing through it all.
letting out all the words that help me to understand and gain perspective.
instead, those small and gobbled moments mostly involve
letting life and goodness and bright moments,
spent with even brighter people,
seep deep down into me.
i allow the winds to blow on my soul.
sometimes i listen, sometimes i just let its breezes give me fresh breath.
perhaps i should dedicate a certain portion of each week to writing.
writing whatever comes out for however long i can,
even if only a small amount of time is allotted.
perhaps i should.
so far, though, i regret none of the time
i've dedicated to being with people and sunshine instead.

whatever else anything is, it's better in the summertime.
when the days are long, the sun is bright, and the leaves are green.
i feel like i ought to have something to say for these months.
to adequately describe the chaos, or at least to adequately describe all the things that are sinking me.

academically speaking,
nothing currently feels cohesive.
nothing currently feels like i have a grasp on it.
with each day--or each client, or each email--everything shifts a little bit.
everything requires constant adaptability.

that's fine, really.
it is.
but sometimes--
my soul is just a bit weary of all it takes to stay afloat.

on the other hand,
there are moments.
they never last long,
but there are small, fleeting glimpses.
moments in which i see a small sliver of light shine,
within which i see the growth in myself.
i see the changes in my thought processes.
my critical thinking being refined and becoming more and more like a clinician.
with all there is to know, and all there is to remember, and all there is to be,
there are moments.
they never last long.

i rarely, if ever, feel like i'm taking in enough or that i'm adequately prepared.
what if i get to the end of grad school and find
there are scores of things i should have learned but never took in?
often, i feel under-qualified.
particularly with my summer clinic assignments.
i want so badly to be able to help these children.
i see so acutely their need and their difficulties in communicating.
the complexity of figuring out language
amidst so many other complexities in their little systems and lives.

tell me your secrets and ask me your questions.
oh, let's go back to the start.
nobody said it was easy,
no one ever said it would be this hard.
i was just guessing at numbers and figures,
pulling the puzzles apart.
questions of science,
science and progress,
don't speak as loud as my heart.
running in circles, 
chasing our tails,
coming back as we are.
nobody said it was easy.
no one ever said it would be so hard.
i'm going back to the start.

all these (adorably bright-eyed) puzzles with so many pieces,
in order to truly make progress--
where do you even begin?

song of the day: 

the scientist, coldplay.

using your words.

when we talk about children with language disorders,
it often comes down to a deficit in having the words to verbalize experience.
sometimes it's a comprehension difficulty.
sometimes it's an expressive difficulty.
sometimes it's both.
but it always comes back to having words.

i have a supervisor who can't stand when people tell kids to use your words.
quite frankly, i don't really like it either.
it's so trite.
and doesn't really solve the problem,
particularly when someone doesn't have the words they need.
that's often the real problem.

sometimes i feel a little bit like i have expressive language deficits.
sometimes i feel a little bit like i don't have the right words.
oh, i have plenty of words that rest inside me.
but getting them to come out in the right way and the right time?
nothing these days ever seems quite like it comes out in the way i intend for them.

use your words, so many say to children around the world.
use your words so that we as humans may better understand one another.
use all these words to communicate.
use all these words to build connections.

but how can i use my words if i myself am not so sure what patterns or connections to create?
there's so much to say these days that i can't figure out the proper way to say much of anything at all.
and so here i am saying nothing really at all.
it's a start, right?

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 8.

they say we're on the downhill now.
that the hardest is behind us.

if that were not the truth, i don't think we'd all make it through.

- - -

i did really well last semester, honestly speaking.
i mean.
i kind of forget that grades are part of my education at this point.
perhaps it's a grad school thing.
perhaps it's a growing up thing and i haven't thought too much about grades in years.
especially now, though.
sometimes i forget that we also receive grades.

nevertheless.
i am doing just fine.
more than fine.

- - -

last week i had my last day at the special ed/communication-based preschool i've been working at.
the slp said she can just see me working in the schools.
talked about how much she loves it.

sometimes i don't think we get to hear that enough.
never is it offered as more than an afterthought:
oh, but it's so wonderful and good and rewarding.
they talk of caseloads, difficulties, the craziness of scheduling.
but it's refreshing to hear about how good it can also be.
that the good isn't just a side effect.
the good is in everything.
because the joy itself is the process of being there.
the fact that in this field you must use your brain.
you have to think.
and that--
that is what makes it rewarding.
the never-ending puzzles to solve with each new client/student.

- - -

i'm really over this grad school thing.
being in our clinic classroom just about kills me with restlessness some days.
i never was made for the student life,
even if i am capable of being a good student.

there are many things i could share about summer clinic, but i'll let that sit for now.
so many thoughts about early childhood, safety, play, and growth.
but those are for another time.
because words come when they come, no sooner.
for now they're still a swirl of a mess inside me.

right now i simply must say,
aside from the swirl of things in my life to process
that i haven't figured out how to set down:
i am doing just fine.
more than fine.

i do love this month of may.

contentment is:

waking up to bright natural light flooding a room. sunny and calm saturday mornings, you know?

sheep. my inexplicable fetish with sheep. (and the little ducklings!)

laying in the grass to do a little talking with the sun.

the scent of spring wafting through the air.

tomorrow being may day. we all know how i adore mymay.

sunshine breathing air into my soul, keeping me alive.

come the may, i say.

carry on.

the due time.

a few months ago, 

when i discovered it could be done online,

i went through and requested the patriarchal blessings of my direct ancestors.

just up to my great-grandparents, for the ones who received one.

i requested them, and then, quite frankly, forgot about it.

a few weeks ago my maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother's arrived.

yesterday my maternal great-grandmother's arrived. 

you know what?

the more blessings i read,

the more my perspective shifts.

at first they felt like nothing grand.

they're all unique, i suppose,

though carry many similarities, as could be expected.

at first that irked me.

where's the personalization in that?

today, though.

i realized that i love the overlapping language. 

that it is personal.

these blessings are laced with similarities,

though no two are alike.

(with one another as well as with the blessings of 

living individuals--those that i have had the privilege to read.)

a couple share a couple things, a couple nothing at all.

but there's an overarching similarity in all of them.

as if they're all different branches of the same tree,

sprouting up in a myriad of individual combinations.

take three branches.

one may share similarities with both of the others.

one with only one of the others.

but they all somewhere have a mutual link--

the trunk from which they all emerged.

the one i read today is hard to read.

(literally--it's a copy of a page from an old book, written in abysmal handwriting.)

but there's a line that reminds me of another patriarchal blessing i've read,

and a line that reminds me of mine.

three different blessings for three different people at three different times in three different places.

and here they share wording almost identical in parts, 

though not in a place where you'd expect identical wording.

and something about all that inspires in me their divinity.

not because they're all different,

but because they're all woven from the same cloth.

it's the same God speaking to us all,

regardless of who or when. 

at first that seemed impersonal to me, but now it's what i cherish.

the constancy of God across time and space.

because when it all comes down to it,

regardless of how we visualize it

or by what means He personally manifests Himself to us,

it all comes and goes from the same God.

we all turn back to that God who breathes into us life.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 7.

i'll write you a postcard, 
i'll send you the news
from a house down the road, 
from real love.

live through this, and you won't look back.

there's one thing i want to say, 
so i'll be brave:
you were what i wanted.
i gave what i gave.
i'm not sorry i met you.
i'm not sorry it's over.
i'm not sorry there's nothing to say.
(your ex-lover is dead, stars.)

that's how i feel about this semester, you know?
there were some really good moments.
there were some really rough moments.
i'm not sorry it happened.
i'm not sorry it's (almost) over.
i'm only a little bit sorry there's little to be said.
living through grad school, i won't look back.
i'll send a postcard someday.

- - - - -

midway through march, one of my clients stopped coming.
(ihatemoneyandinsuranceandmoney.)
it was sudden. and i found out after the best session we'd ever had.
on the corners of a grand transition and elevation in progress
while i didn't realize it at first amidst the uncertainty of potential return,
i grieved that sudden loss.
i grieved what could have been and the progress i wouldn't see.
there, right on the cusp of significant progression along the mountain, that's where we stopped.
and i grieved.

it seems strange, really.
i'm only formally acquainted with this child and his mother.
just these few hours a week we shared.
nonetheless, i was sad to see him go.
sad when i realized, that's most likely it for the rest of the semester.
i was involved in the diagnostic for this client.
i wrote the report.
set his first goals.
watched him make phenomenal progress much more quickly than we anticipated.
the initial sessions entrenched in routine suddenly gave way around february.
and by the end of february, he'd achieved his semester goals.
i'll be brave and i gave what i gave.
i'm not sorry we met,
and, to be honest, i have mixed feelings about the fact that it's over.
i'll send a postcard, someday.

- - - - -

the classes have been much simpler this semester than last semester.
the course-load much less.
sometimes i feel a little guilty about my lack of engagement or focus on school this semester.
i mean, i get everything done, of course.
clinic always is priority over classes.
everything we do is constant triage of simply getting done what needs to be.
doing what you can, giving what you can, and moving on.
sometimes i feel a little guilty for how hard i know i'm not working for this.
it's a rigorous program--it really is.
but not in the ways you'd think for being given the label of graduate school.
you're always busy while actually not always busy.
schedules are somewhat flexible for getting done what you need to,
aside from classes, sessions, and meetings.
i have much more time than i ever did in undergrad--
especially my last couple years of undergrad.
it's much easier than that.

and intellectually.
well, it's not challenging.
it's not.
there's critical thinking,
but a different kind than that required in the intricacies of foreign languages and russian literature.

i'm always busy,
but mentally--
i'm often far far away.

my russian capstone was completed a year ago today.
our priceless skits of adaptations to chekhov plays.
meaning, a year ago this week,
i graduated.
(kind of. #israel.)

there's still two-and-a-half weeks left for this semester.
and i'm over here like--
are we done yet?

because.
i'm quite excited for summer and my clinic placements.
(i'll be at the children's center and the intensive stuttering clinic!)
i'm quite excited for next spring.
(i was offered a medical externship!)

it's been real, spring semester 2016.
but let's never meet again.

photo credit: nbc.

brought to you by:

the distractions throughout the semester that have kept me sane.

the darling clients who make it worth it.

the spring sunshine and blossoms galore.

the mountains and the blue sky.

the audio books that make commuting more tolerable.
friday mornings working at the preschool.

thoughts of future vacations. 

and also. chocolate shakes.

because--why not?

holding.

because you're supposed to hold on to good things, right?

and my means of holding on to things is to write about them.

and for the occasions when i can't find my words,

i let photos do the talking instead.

so that i may remember the good days that life graces me with.

(because wednesday was a really really good day--

filled with the deepest kind of tranquility.)

plate and i went up the canyon on wednesday.

after a long, cold winter sometimes i forget my mountain obsession.

the way being in the mountains fills my lungs with air.

the way being in the mountains grounds my soul.

the way i say (probably much to his annoyance) over and over again--

i love the sun.

oh, how i dearly love the sun.

made even better by spending a good portion of a day with nate. 

sunshine and mountain therapy is a real thing.

here's to the mountains and the sun.

perfectly magical dots of snow followed by radiant blue skies and sunshine breaking through.

here's to my obsession with springtime in the rockies.

(and enjoying it with an exceptionally good human.)

sorrynotsorry for the attack of photos.

- - -

i can gather all the news i need on the weather report.

i've got nothing to do today but smile.

(the only living boy in new york, simon&garfunkel.)

THIS IS REAL LIFE.

i repeat: THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

(insert sappy comment about how darling he is here.)

spring never ceases to fill me with relief.

my soul can breathe again.

happy spring, world.

glorious, glorious spring, indeed.

to be alive at all.

to be alive at all is to have scars.

(john steinbeck, the winter of our discontent.)

it's as saturday morning session is in its final quarter.

that's when the boots come.

it hasn't always been this way.

i wish i knew how, what, or why.

but heaviness comes and stays awhile on the saturday of general conference.

this, the loveliest of all days.

last october is when it happened the first time.

i tried to push the struggle and worry away.

it worked for a few hours.

and then i wept my way through saturday afternoon.

i never cry.

hardly ever.

i can practically count on one hand

the occasions in which i wept throughout the past five years.

these baby blues don't cry.

when i was approaching the end of my mission, 

there was a day.

i was serving in saltovka, 

and we were supposed to have a meeting with a man named nikolai after district meeting.

on a bench across from the branch--

we were going to meet him there.

then we discovered that our scheduled meeting with nikolai,

was really a meeting with the nikolai in my soul.

(if i were a ukrainian man, my name would be nikolai.

a story of name stereotypes for another day.)

anyone who serves a mission can tell you:

though there are many experiences of light, love, and joy,

there are incredibly heavy things that are a part, as well.

particularly in a land that has faced--and continues to face--so much sorrow.

i'd become quite good at holding those sorrows for a moment.

bearing them without letting them weigh me down.

i had to learn, and so i did.

but every once in awhile.

they'd accumulate.

my heart swelled wide as eternity 

with a simultaneous love and grief for the whole human race.

so many people.

so many trials.

so many fiery paths to walk through.

so much heartbreak.

so much hopelessness.

how could we ever help anyone?

how could we ever pass God's light to all of them?

how could we ever ease their burdens by showing them how to give it to Jesus?

how could we ever figure out ourselves how to let go of control?

how could we ever breach through the darkness?

it was cloudy that day.

a cloudy, muddy day in late september.

i remember looking up to the clouds and seeing flecks of light.

a small space where the clouds were a little less thick.

my heart swelled wide, thinking of all the people who have ever lived.

it was heavy, and i wept.

(my darling little companions at the time were молодцы about this.

letting me release my overwhelming grief.)

i cried my tears, and then i got back up and kept walking.

sharing a little light here, a little light there.

helping to peel scars from someone's back and letting them blow away.

here a scar, there another scar.

because that's how.

that's how we help someone.

that's how we pass on God's light.

that's how we ease burdens and show how to give it away to Jesus.

that's how we let go of control.

that's how we breach through the darkness.

one moment at a time.

here a little, there a little.

здесь немного и там немного.

that's the answer, really.

but every so often, 

the heavy in my boots accumulates.

every so often,

i need to spend some time on a bench with the nikolai in my soul.

every so often.

my boots overflowed today.

instead of weeping through saturday afternoon, though,

this time, i slept.

why must people kneel down to pray?

if i really wanted to pray, i'll tell you what i'd do.

i'd go out into a great big field all alone,

or in the deep, deep woods

and i'd look up into the sky--

up--up--up--

into that lovely blue sky 

that looks as if there was no end to its blueness.

and then i'd just feel a prayer.

(l.m. montgomery, anne of green gables.)

peel the scars from off my back.

one moment at a time.

look at the sun and sky, and feel a prayer.

this is how we stay alive.

song of the day: welcome home, radical face.