notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 2.

worst day of grad school > worst day of undergrad.
funny how that works, eh?
not that grad school isn't a lot--it is.
but. it's not so all-consuming as my last year of speechpathrussiangradapps was.
(cause that was just insanity. let's never do that again, yeah?)
this isn't rocket science, after all.
and, considering there's so much we don't know, there's a lot of ambiguity.

you know what the things is about grad school?
they don't actually force you to do anything.
not really.
it's expected.
and not doing these things punishes no one but yourself.
there's glory in that--
it's all your own.

- - -

i get a weird joy out of being lost in basements of libraries.
not lost, but lost to the world. at least for a time.
though sometimes it also makes me feel like i'm losing my humanity.
also. truth universally acknowledged?
it's always cold in the dungeons of the library.
always. why is that?

- - -

i like the different research findings we talk about,
but i don't like the research process itself or academia.
still, i'm frustrated by the desperate need for more research.
when humans are involved, though, research only goes so far.
that's something i kind of love about this field: ambiguity.
because sometimes there's not going to be an answer. it's okay not to know.

ease with ambiguity.
comfort with complexity.
confidence tempered by humility.

- - -

in one of my classes a few weeks ago, we were talking about biases.
researcher bias, examiner bias, all the possible bias in all things.
if you believe something in your head, you might find that.
agreed.

but. you know?
i also think.
sometimes. you must know what you're looking for in order to find.
not in all cases, of course.
in life, though.
with people.
perhaps you need a general idea of what you're aiming for if you ever hope to get there.

- - -

what do i really want out of life?
what do i really want it to look like?
these are the things i think about and scribble in the margins of notebooks during long lectures.
or when i've finished exams or quizzes before everyone else.
(i'm almost concerned at this trend--this finishing so soon when i receive last.)
i think too much, really.
that's my problem.
and yet i can't stop thinking and wondering.
what do i reallytrulyactually want out of life?
how do i truly want my life to look?
more than that--how do i get there?
most days i know, some days it all seems farfetched.

i wonder more often than i probably should why i am where i am.
not in my university, of course. in other things.

- - -

despite all these things we study and talk about,
even with the medical interests i have--
i still keep coming back to autism and languages/bilingual issues.
what does this mean? does it mean?
the other day one of my professors was talking about her research and her history.
how as a graduate student, she was bored with the typical, and so she got involved with some other research.
it was the part of my days i was most looking forward to.
and that's where i needed to go. that's what i needed to do.
[she studied complex syntax, and i thought it was fascinating.]
i'm not saying i'm interested in complex syntax. (i'm really not.)
but i am saying.
i'm bored.
my time is consumed, but i am bored.
and so i think too much.
and my mind wanders from every topic to what influence that may have on autism.
and i'm all filled up with all these pieces of different languages.
i mean, it's mostly russian anymore.
but there are still all those other pieces.
that must be for something. it's something cultivatable.

in my developmental language disorders class the other day,
we were talking about preschools for a minute.
and. you know?
an autism preschool.
a language-based preschool for individuals with autism.
that wouldn't be so bad.

(speaking of preschools.
when my children someday go to preschool.
i'd like their teacher to have a college degree.
and preferably, i'd like it to be a language-focused curriculum.
too much? right. okay. we'll cross that bridge later.)

- - -

i'm perplexed sometimes by the mix of people and personalities that end up in this field.

perhaps even more perplexed by the way there's not as much variation as you'd think.

- - -

if you don't like people, if you can't have empathy--
you shouldn't be in this field.

did you know they've done studies?
in the end.
if you're a good clinician, you'll see results--regardless of what you do.
these things we're learning, they're tools.
but sometimes.
even when the work is good, the research results are not inspiring.
and there is no one-way ticket to minimizing negative effects of language and speech disorders.
individuals, you see.
there's something in that, though.
the fact that, if you're a good clinician, you'll see results.
because it's about being a human being.
who believes. cultivates. empowers.

- - -

all of my personal experiences prior to graduate school--
well, they don't all relate. not really.
people say things--with astonishment, of course--like,
oh, you know russian?? look at you. that's so great. i'm sure it will be useful.
i'm sure it will. because it's useful in life. kind of.
but the offering in this field from russian-speaking countries is meager.
speech-language pathology isn't a very large field outside of the united states,
especially outside of english-speaking countries.
in ukraine i'd tell people what i was studying,
and often they had no idea what it was.
i had to describe the field to them, just as i frequently do in english.

my russian, particularly as a double major,
honestly has very little to do with the things i study now.
and yet.
all these languages i've studied.
all the literature that has seeped into my soul.
the experiences i've shared with so many different kinds of human beings.
they've sharpened me.

a sharpening a bit like a pencil in a pencil sharpener, you could say.
not one of those pretty electric ones that flooded into classrooms in my later elementary years--
rather, the metal manual sharpeners.
the ones you have to crank with your hand, and listen to the grinding.
you know?
everyone secretly despised the person who got up in the middle of a spelling test to sharpen their pencil.
despised that painful grinding that pierced through the room.
it's not pretty, that process.
the shavings discarded in all shapes and sizes.
sometimes you think the pencil's sharpened,
when really there's a hunk of wood on one side blocking the lead.
and so you shove that pencil back in and twirl the crank around,
pushing the pencil towards the circulating blades.
and then when you pull the pencil out--she's sharp as an arrow.
oh boy, is she sharp.

so it is.

these experiences from every kind of place and time.

these interactions with people of every kind.

they sharpen my perspective.

they sharpen the way i approach and categorize new information with the old.

they sharpen. me.

sharp.

- - -

p.s. first fall break i've ever had in college?

joke's on me. there's still several things scheduled for clinic throughout the week.

in addition to a ridiculous amount of things to be done.

#happyfallbreaktoyoutoo

then again. today i slept in.

did a bunch of laundry.

(washed my sheets for the first time in youdon'twanttoknow how long.)

ran through these beautiful streets.

worked on some readings.

did some researching trying to find article upon article.

worked on these bigger projects.

and made pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies while watching parenthood. 

(aka mynewfavoriteguiltypleasureshow.)

i'm nowhere near done.

but. you know. this breakandbreathe lyfe ain't so bad.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 1.

all through my aphasia class today we were talking about neuroscience.

all i know is that i kept thinking about brains. and autism. and aphasia.

in my other class, i kept thinking about autism therapy.

we were talking about phonological theories and articulation,

but i kept thinking about autism.

this is the thing about individuals with autism--

they see more than they get credit for seeing.

they see more.

- - -

the brain is so malleable, but damage is damage.

at church on sunday i was talking to someone.

and when i talked about my course of study, he had a real-live response and discussion.

(not just the usual coolokaybye. that means idon'tknowwhatthatmeansbutgoteamokaybye.)

because there was a woman in his ward or somewhere who was brilliant and bright and sharp.

and then she had a stroke and lost her words.

him: you can just tell. the words are right there. it's all still there, but she can't--

me: --yes! it's there, but she just can't get it out.

him: exactly. and now you can tell she's so reliant on her husband for everything.

aphasia is so fascinating, but tragic to me.

because even if you didn't lose your life from the stroke,

you've lost the words that give you life.

in therapy and intervention prognosis, they always talk about influencing factors.

things like age and site and severity of lesion.

family support, previous skills prior to the event.

and motivation.

because with acquired language disorders, so often the motivation comes so hard sometimes.

no one can understand you, or you can't understand yourself.

and so individuals become depressed sometimes and unmotivated to work on treatments.

as if a little part of them knows--

no matter how intensive the therapy,

their gains may never reach again where they once were.

in the beginning of college, i'd always understood that concept--

but only as a concept without really understanding.

then last fall as part of the professional practices course,

we talked about the stages of grief.

for individuals, for loved ones, for caregivers.

and i wonder--

would i lose my motivation and quit trying were i old and lost my words or comprehension?

would i fight?

we all say we would,

but when you've lived most of a life,

your heart and brain worn down--literally--from your battle scars.

would you keep fighting anyway, no matter how small the gains?

i'm not so sure i would.

- - -

there's a linguist in me.

or at least i thought there was.

but now i know.

it's a linguist for other languages, not english linguistics.

i love languages and their rule systems and the way they so eloquently function.

my freshman year i took a french class with this terrifying french woman.

she always used to say, c'est logique, c'est français! [it's logical, it's french!]

russian was more complex, but had all its sound systems and history of morphology.

my professor would put up all these linguistic rules about voicing or softness.

and even the exceptions came together in a beautiful sort of rhythm and rhyme.

not english, though.

i don't care for english linguistics.

we sit and talk of phonological processes and patterns.

language development theories and linguistic constraints.

and in english it all seems so scattered to me,

like groping for some small semblance of explanations.

they haven't found one yet.

because there isn't one.

- - -

that's the thing about graduate school--

it's so much less concrete than you'd think.

the statements of fact handed you as an undergraduate,

are taken away and returned to you as a collection of possibilities.

because everything's an option when it comes to pathologies in the brain and language.

everything's an option when it comes to disorder.

analyze what the child is doing.

figure out the puzzle.

this is what keeps our job so interesting.

because there is no one rule to follow.

they give you pieces of all they know,

they go through the process of solving puzzles with you,

and then they send you off to solve the puzzles yourself,

equipped not with answers, but with the resources to find the answers.

to keep researching until you find information that might work.

might. hopefully.

do the same thing with two seemingly identical individuals--

do you get the same result?

not necessarily.

and so you're left to create an answer yourself.

that's all it is--

a collection of answers for interventions that could work,

some are even likely to work.

but when human heads and hearts are involved, you just never know.

even when it seems they should--

sometimes they just might not.

granted.

but also.

even when it seems they shouldn't--

sometimes?

sometimes they just might.

learn to journey and return.

i've been feeling nostalgic about my alma mater this week. and then i saw that they made this new video about the byu experience, and it sent my byulove right over the edge.

i loved byu when i was there, though i certainly had my moments when i wanted out. nevertheless, byu taught me so much both inside and outside of the classroom. and because of that, i'll be forever grateful for that spirit of the Y.

i'd always intended to write a farewell to provo kind of something. or at least a farewell to byu, kind of like megs did. i'd always intended to, but it never seemed to solidify in my soul until now--one week into graduate education at another university. and something about that marks my undergraduate education as officially and completely behind me.

there's a certain kind of charm in that provo air--especially in the summertime. even more especially in the evening as the sun sets. there's a certain glow of golden breath that distills upon the city in the summer: everyone becomes a bit more calm, walks a bit slower, and breathes a bit more often. furthermore, what's not to love about a city that loves their hot air balloons? the hot air balloon festival as part of the freedom festival. but sometimes on random saturdays those balloons have also been known to float their way through the sky. seriously--how can you not be charmed by the sight of hotairballoons?

i can't deny that i was ready to move on by the time april 2015 rolled around. really ready. even with my few jaunts to eastern europe inside of it in 2011 and then again from 2012-2013, 2009-2015 was plenty of time in ptown for me. in that time, though, provo really was good to me. and just as i predicted over a year ago, provo had more for me before i was through, and she wouldn't have been quite complete without those final months. but i was ready. really ready. and it's taken me until now for it to sink in what it really means to be a #byugrad. because it comes in little pockets--pieces at a time, little bits and then waves all at once.

i think one of my favorite things about byu was their motto, the world is our campus. they had many unofficial mottos, but there's something about this one that i loved the most. the way everything you do should be something that both teaches and edifies. and some of the most profound higher education i ever received, was in being a part of the world--getting outside of my own world both mentally and geographically. because everyone you ever meet knows something you don't, and there's something to be learned from them. i think the same is true of places and spaces as well as the people who fill those spaces.

and also. (i can't even believe i'm saying this.) but. i miss harold. maybe not the inordinate amount of time spent there. that place has good study vibes, man. reeeaallll good. i miss my cubicles to confine myself. or tables to spread. or softer chairs for reading. or basements without service for only the strongofheart.

i spent all my semesters at byu finding favorite unknown corners of campus. and every semester finding new favorite places to study. and every semester loving the cubicles because they were so helpful to me for gettinginthezone. i loved those cubicles, despite the painfully uncomfortable chairs that came with them. those cubicles witnessed and fueled my study vibes, my writing vibes, my thinking vibes, my decisioning vibes. they were good to me.

there's something special about the utah sky. and from all my time walkingandrunninganddriving those streets of provo, i became ever more aware of the sun, sky, and stars. the sun as it rose, the sun as it set, the moon that lit my path as i left home far too early and returned far too late.

and. the campus itself is stunning. did you know? byu grounds crew doesn't mess around. byu does so much to make the campus aesthetically pleasing and they are quite literally always under construction somewhere. the new buildings are delightful, and the old ones are filled with history and hilarity. walking through campus--there's always something beautiful to see from this campus nestled at the base of the mountains. beauty is all around.

university is never just about the courses you take, but they certainly are a powerful influence. this is the place so many of my views and perspectives on the world were formed and solidified. this is the place where my intellect was enlarged and my soul enriched. i read more pages than i thought possible in the short time frame in which they were read. i didn't read other pages that maybe i should have--because that's a part of university too. learning how you study. learning how you learn. and learning the hard way when you didn't do enough because you're young and living life. and most of all--learning what you care about most. learning where your passions truly find themselves.

most influential of all, though, were the people. friends, roommates, classmates, professors. even people that had none of the above affiliations. people are like that, you know? they can't help but be influential in some way. i'll be forever changed and made better for the courses i took, the discussions i heard and participated in, or the lectures presented. for doing things that are hard and sitting through things i never want to hear about again because it was so painfully boring to me. for the classes that challenged, but were the most rewarding of all. and the ones that seemed to be the worst, but developed in me the greatest progress both academically and in my character. and then there are those other people. the simple moments of shared smiles of commiseration with strangers when you're both on campus at an ungodly hour and everyone else is snug in their beds, or at least doing something more desirable than trudge through the cold.

these are the roads and paths i walked too many times to count. these are the streets i loved to love and loved to hate after passing through them so many times. the trees i sat under and the glorious beauty to which i became desensitized. because all these roads and pathways are only a fraction of the distance my soul covered in these years i was graced with the spirit of the Y--becoming a part of the legacy that makes brigham young university the prestigious institution that it is.

i went through every season a number of times at byu. fall, winter, spring, summer. fall and winter and spring and summer again. i can't even count all the photos i know i've snapped of the trees at every phase. the sunrises, the sunsets, the budding leaves, the changing autumn colors. the snowy blankets that cover campus and the melting heat of the dry summer sun. seasons come and seasons go, and i suppose that in itself was a lesson too: nothing ever stays the same. life always moved on and forward. and even the most similar-looking of circumstances always turn out a little bit different one from the other. because that's the way life goes, you know? it keeps on changing. it keeps on moving. it keeps on leading you through so that at the end of the day, you can look back and say, i lived. i really truly lived.

 there's this place i used to love to study inside the hbll--one of my most-frequented locations. it was on the fourth floor in the asian section. if you wound past all the tables, there were cubicles that lined the pathway along the wall that had windows looking out to a small courtyard and another side of the library. on the wall between two windows, there was a painting of an old chinese man who seemed to be the picture of wisdom. i liked to look up at him in my breaks in studying, as if he were imparting wisdom to me. a good luck charm of sorts. one of my last finals of my undergraduate career was a take-home final of essays that i typed from the library. i typed from beneath the watchful eye of this chinese man. because that place was always so good to me. and it was always to there that i went to study for the gre and take practice tests on saturdays last summer. because it was a little piece of charm that seemed all my own, hidden inside that byu life.

those were the days. those were the years. it was hardly ever easy, but it was enriching. despite all this, though. here, now, today? it's time. пора, мой друг, пора. as pushkin says. it's time to move on and forward. the sun has set on my byu time. onward and upward we're marching on. because life is measured by new experiences. 

here's to discovering a new campus, even if i'll be spending a grand deal less time here on campus or in classes. nevertheless, i've still got this hankering that maybe. perhaps. it might be possible. that utah will be good to me too. and so i say, here's to new. here's to this crimson U.

song of the day: all i can see, brendan james.

#emily'sgoingtogradschool

a career in speech-language pathology challenges you

to use your intellect (the talents of your mind)

in combination with your humanity (the gifts of your heart)

to do meaningful work that feeds your soul.

-megan hodge.

if you were to ask me five years ago when i first entered the major why i switched and was choosing communication disorders, i couldn't have given you a clear answer. it seemed like a good career path. it seemed interesting to me. it seemed like a good idea. but i didn't know why. it just seemed right. it seemed like it was an excellent fit for my aptitudes. and i've spent these five years learning why--not only why i'm here in this field, but also why i'm staying.

four years ago i was recently-returned home from romania. that beautiful, blissful summer of mine in a little corner of eastern europe. that place where there never was a happier time. because i love people. i need people. not in the kind of way that i want them always around to interact with and learn their stories, though that's also true. but because of what comes from truly meaningful experiences when working with others--experiences that leave one or more of the individuals involved forever changed. because of what comes from facilitating growth in others and enabling them to become more fully who they have the potential to be--whatever that means in whatever the capacity.

because this work is all about people. individuals. it's about a study of communication in all its varieties and the repair thereof when something goes amiss in those dances of interaction. and so we marvel at that early dance of interaction. don't you love that? the early dance of interaction. because communication is completely and entirely socially driven. it gains validity and utility in interaction, whether that interaction be with oneself, others, or some piece of the surrounding environment. because when else do we communicate? it's always driven by some interaction, as earliest evidenced by that dance of interaction from infancy between caretakers and little babes.

i think the ability to effectively communicate can change the world--both the world at large and each individual among the millions of orbits of humans living lives of their own around the globe. because to be able to communicate is to be empowered to act for oneself. to be human. furthermore, to facilitate that process when some missteps are encountered in that process? well, to do so is to enable and empower someone else. and so we study disorders of communication. this is why the field of speech-language pathology exists, in its multi-faceted spread of opportunities.

and, you guys! it's just so. dang. fascinating. every little piece. in all the courses i've taken as an undergraduate studying communication disorders, or in volunteer experiences, or even in my study of other languages. over and over again i see what it means to be able to speak. to have a voice and let it be heard. and in learning a language foreign to my own mother-tongue, i have experienced multiple times small glimpses of what it means to have one's voice muted for a time. to be frustrated and trapped inside oneself when there is an inability to communicate or express what's inside you and is itching to be let out. because a voice takes many shapes and lengths and breadths. a voice in speaking, yes. but also in writing, in art, in music. because those are all just as much communicative tools as words themselves, aren't they?

i could go on and on about why i'm shocked more people don't become a part of this rewarding, meaningful, challenging, and beautiful line of work. (to say nothing of the incredible job security.) literacy, voices, articulation, neurological disorders--these are just the tip of the iceberg of areas of the field that exist. in addition to the fact that i so earnestly need to be part of meaningful things in my life, lest i go completely insane from being mired in selfish or insignificant daily acts. but i'll stick with the gratification of knowing that i'm lucky enough to be a part of it. with knowing that the education i receive is empowering not only myself, but those whom i will be able to serve in the future, allowing me to be a force for good. all my experiences up to this point have worked together to lead me to being always among people. with individuals. with being enabled by my own experiences and skills to help others and truly change the course of their life. to empower. and grad school. well, grad school is just another step. perhaps the most important step. to truly enable me to facilitate real growth in both myself and others. and that? well that never stops being invigorating.

last october there was an information meeting at the university of utah regarding their master's program in speech-language pathology. october eighth, to be exact. and that was the day i knew. that was the day i became conscious of a desire deep within me more earnest than almost any other desire ever experienced. that's the day i realized how badly i really really want this. with all of my beating, significance-craving heart. i wanted to be a part of this field. a part of their program. a part of their clinic. a part of all of it. because i love the way they give a broad education that allows you to glimpse into every part of the field. because i love their clinic. because i love the professors. because i love salt lake city.

when i was in that meeting, i was overcome with the way being there made progress and growth and getting where i'm going feel possible. everything felt possible. and despite this program (no matter where you apply) being incredibly competitive, it was a profound recognition to realize that not everyone in the meeting would necessarily be my competition. more than that, i just fell in love with that place. and my soul was screaming that it needed to be there someday soon.

i'm a fairly easy-going person, driven almost entirely by pragmatics and perhaps sometimes flirting with the line of being too practical. more than that, i'm a minimalist. i like simplicity. and i'm far from materialistic. i don't want often. not in a real way, anyway. i want a drink on a hot summer's day just like anyone else, but i'll oblige to depriving myself of most things if necessary. because most things really aren't necessary. most of this modern world would be shocked if they ever truly discovered how little it takes to live. to keep surviving. but this. i wanted it so badly it nearly started gnawing its way through my skin. because it seemed like this program was screaming at me. because it seemed like i belonged there. in ways i myself could hardly explain, i knew i had to go there. and i wanted it so badly, despite only a certain portion of getting there being in my control.



i worked my tail off. i volunteered in specific areas of the field more interesting to me. i studied. i researched schools over and over again. i did things like an internship in romania not because it looked good on a resume. (though i can't lie that i'm grateful it does.) i did it for the experience. because it just seemed right. because it seemed so important to my life and who i am, who i'm becoming. in addition to being, on a simpler level, incredibly appealing to me. suffice it to say. i worked because i wanted to. because i cared about these things. because these are things that were worth being exhausted for and getting out of bed to embrace each morning. because i really, truly love it. because it starts a fire in my blood that courses out of my heart and burns through my veins.

and after all that wishing, and dreaming, and hoping, and praying (plus incredible amounts of hard work, late nights, and that horribly tedious application process), i got my letter to my own kind of hogwarts. back in march. march sixteenth. (i know it's august now. lifebebehindlikethatsometimes.) and while i pretended to consider my options, i was granted what i'd always wanted all along. my choice was simple, and i always knew. now. i get to study as part of an incredible program in a city that i love. last week i was in the clinic observing, and before i left i met a professor with whom i had a great little discussion about the field, autism, being in school, and how great it all is. it was thrilling. and he said in all his years in the field, he's never been bored. and let me just tell you. there's nothing so invigorating about that either. i'm so excited i could burst.

because.

hashtag. emily'sgoingtogradschool.

(now trending.)

(and yes. these photos are real life. i don't even know what came over me. #shameless.)

the words.

i have a russian dictionary app on my phone.

and until recently, it was easily and by far the most frequently used app.

it resides in that place at the bottom of the screen--

that place for the most-used of all.

phone, messages, gmail.

and my slovoed dictionary.

i can't bring myself to demote it to another location.

because doing so means i'm demoting russian in my life.

which.

turns out.

i am.

because.

#emsgoingtogradschool

my focus for most of the past year and a half has been russian.

for the past three years, really.

except for applying to grad school and a couple things here and there.

mostly it's been all russian.

especially in the past year.

russian has been all-consuming.

but for the next two years?

my shift is focusing, my focus is shifting.

and my focus will be all things speech-language pathology.

because.

#emsgoingtogradschool

a good grad school.

a good program.

really good, actually.

and i love speech pathology.

it's dandy and great and i get excited about it too.

and yet.

i still can't get myself to move the russian dictionary.

choosing.

the thing about a mission is that you choose. anyone should be sure that it's a choice of their own, but especially as a sister. there's no obligation whatsoever to serve full-time. in fact, when i made my choice, there were plenty choosing not to go.

the thing about a mission, though, is that also at some point--usually at the beginning--that choice made as a statement turns into a question. i chose this? because when you make the choice, you don't know. no one can see into the future. you make a choice based on a visualization that you create in your head that was made according to that which you attempted to predict. which, of course, is normal and good and right. i'm a firm believer in the power of visualization as a means to guide your desires and direct your choices. but then you get in there, and as you ought to expect, you encounter the unexpected and unimagined possibilities that are now reality and you say with a hint of betrayal, disbelief, and possibly disappointment all rolled into one: i chose this?

missions are an odd sort of alternate universe that highlight and force simplicity and minimalism in every aspect of who you are and what you do, because you're called out of the world with a singular purpose. and the effective fulfillment of that purpose requires picking everything apart and simplifying to the core basics of what you believe and the doctrinal foundations that guide your life. and in such an experience--choosing a mission and entering the field--the discrepancy between expected and reality is quite pronounced.

i'm not here to talk about missions, though. (feel free to lament that it took me three paragraphs to get here.) because while all of this is true, and i myself experienced it and lived to tell the tale (and, by choice, to not tell many a tale), i've been surprised at how much i now see the same experience hidden in far more places than anticipated. it was always there, of course. but not until now does it have a name and face like this each and every time.

the discrepancy between the visualized expectation and reality. everyone is guilty at some point or another of creating a prospective image of the future with details that are more than fuzzy--even when you know you shouldn't. perhaps especially when you know you shouldn't. because that's what it means to try to imagine the life you have ahead of you. because if only you could just see ahead--to imagine the first day of a new school semester or year as a whole, to imagine a career role in twenty years, to imagine an internship or job placement, to imagine a future spouse or family. there's power in that dreaming and visualization. because i believe in that searching for an image we create, we find which strokes of the paintbrush we couldn't manage without in addition to those that aren't so necessary as we once thought. and because in the formation of these choices, we allow ourselves to believe that brighter things really are ahead and it will all result in something glorious. those creations give something to believe in.

but what about that discrepancy from the image we've so painstakingly drawn? even when the picture is made with allowances for life's realities, it's still just a picture we've made. but. that picture. inside that picture are strokes of the heart of our desires. after you make a choice, and perhaps as part of making that choice, you design the idea--an image of what you want it to look like.

what do you want? the heart wants what the heart wants. what do you want?

Desires dictate our priorities, priorities shape our choices, and choices determine our actions.

The desires we act on determine our changing, our achieving, and our becoming.

Dallin H. Oaks, Desire.

and this is why we dream. our dreams are desires. our desires guide our choices. but. there's a difference between capital d Desires and lowercase d desires. what we want most (capital d) in comparison with something we think we want (lowercase d)--when in fact there's something ahead far better suited to our own personal interests, needs, and capabilities.



one of my jobs this summer is in a niche of this field that i always thought i wanted to specialize in and study in depth. in fact, i'd nearly planned on it, and nearly applied to a few other graduate schools because of an available specialty. if not that, then i'd find opportunity to work to further study and specialize in it once out working. because i'm good with puzzles and finding answers for what makes people tick. and. well. it's a passion of mine, really. and most of my experience revolves around this. (when i was in israel, there was a woman who was given a free pass by me for anything because even in israel, while it was still april she wore an autism speaks pin on her shirt every day. i'm not even a little bit exaggerating: free pass in my book.) and i love it. autism is fascinating to me, maybe because it is such a mystery and each individual is a different puzzle piece. there's so much we don't know, but also so much that we do. anyway. i'll save my autism obsession and observations for another lump of words. the point is, i love it. i love the individuals i've worked with who have autism, i love the individuals i've worked with in working with those who have autism. it's a beautiful, often indescribable, rewarding experience.

however. there are moments when in my head i say, with a hint of chagrined disbelief: i chose this? 

despite my love for it. despite my interest. despite my passion. despite my previous experience. despite all these stars that have aligned to bring me here. despite all that--this summer is showing me what i don't want to do with the rest of my life, not what i do. it's showing me what i love about speech-language pathology specifically rather than behavioral therapy.

and there's a place for that. there's something laudable in that. there's value in having this experience, and in the hilarious, darling, as well as draining moments that fill a day. (sometimes all within the same 10 second period.) and yet. there's something vexing about it too. i chose this?

because it's not what i expected it would be, even if i did choose this and it chose me. rather, it's not so much that it's not what i expected, because i have enough experience to know the face this work wears. what i didn't expect is how i feel about it now. what about that discrepancy of finding that it's not what i necessarily want to, or should, specialize in forever?

the answer to it all is that it all comes back to capital d Desires compared to lowercase d desires. and i have capital d Desires that matter most. and those lower case d's--well, those are only given placement when they allow for attainment of a capital d. and the capital d will always supersede lowercase d, even when we don't know why a lowercase d has to go--we just know that it does.

and this. this is the educating of desires. in choosing and living the image you've created, including the unexpected and unanticipated. because that's what it means to educate your desires--to come to know them and the faces they wear in every kind of light, in both the portrait you paint and the portrait that results. because in the education thereof, some lowercase d's are ultimately sent into extinction, and others rewarded a tenured position next to a capital d.

The Spirit of Christ teaches us that we must pray, that we must ask for the things that we seek. (...) But before we can do this with focus, we have to become aware of a multitude of defined or undefined, conscious or subconscious desires. We have to learn to bring them to our awareness, to analyze them, to categorize them, and to bring them in to order according to priorities. When we do not do this, we will be condemned to remain, in our prayers, on a superficial level, or even on the level of formality, where there are no answers or there are only imagined answers. But there are always hundreds of different desires fighting for supremacy within us. The act of categorizing them is a very painful, but needful act to become, in the eyes of God, a mature person and to be taken seriously. (...) When the Light of Christ is able to penetrate our hearts, prompted by the enlightened testimony of truth by a focused teacher, it will cause in us a state of awakening, an awakening of the real me, the child of God, so that we can learn to channel our desires to focus on our true needs.

F. Enzio Busche, Unleashing the Dormant Spirit.

paint that picture in colors or words. write them down. by all means, write them down. because the process of giving a color and shape to desires is in itself illuminating. it gives something to believe in. because before we start the education, we surely need to know what we're educating.

this is where desires fit inside our agency--in that choice of the desires we educate. because that is the true gift of agency: to use those desires and priorities as tools in making choices. because choices are personal and meaningful and important and it is the choices we make that our lives are created. and desire? well, desire is at the heart of absolutely everything. no wonder they always say, the desires of our hearts. the heart wants what the heart wants.

and when what you want turns out to not be what you thought you wanted? don't be dismayed. there's always another lowercase d waiting on standby. always.

what do you truly want?

вот это--желание наших сердец.

at my head, below my feet.

hi, bloggity world.

it's been awhile.

i think there are around five humans (on a good day)

who actually ever used to read this little blog, at least on a somewhat regular basis.

most of whom are probably related to me, by blood or otherwise.

and at this point there are probably around two.

but even if no one else reads,

i'm a little sad about the lack of recorded anything in this place lately.

just little tidbits.

but that lack, it's meaningful, you know?

just like how emptiness can be significant.

because in that black hole of lack in this semester, it looks a little something like this:

you know that phrase, burning the midnight oil?

:: more to do than there is legitimate time for--in a very literal sense.
:: staying barely caught up, finishing many things just barely before they are needed.
:: waking up early. all the time. going to sleep late. all the time.
:: apps. alltheapps. in all their tedious glory. (don't even get me started on the csdcas.)
:: desperation and near-despair at being on campus for more hours than should be acceptable.
:: a new love of the basement of the hbll. because hardly anyone ever goes there.
:: snarky. especially in the morning. (apologies to meg, and all my roommates.)
:: droughts,frienddates,andpotentialbutprobablyfutilelittlehopes.
:: life-changing experiences with russian literature and all her themes. because those russians are on a level of their own. i wish i had a way to bottle up all the thoughts that have coursed through me. (because here's the thing about russian literature, it's so deep and penetrating, that it's hard for your life not to be changed by it if you're truly allowing yourself to experience it.)
:: those experiences and processes that you must go through yourself, questions that no one can answer for you.
and yet the support anyway by those who try to understand and help where possible. (thanks, ma.)
:: so many things piled on top of each other over and over again, with no release, just flow from one to another.
:: knowing. really really knowing that speech path was made for me. because if i didn't have that, i'd have jumped ship by now. guaranteed probably.
:: texts, phone calls, and emails that go unresponded to for longer than acceptable. because i just can't.
:: #emily'sgoingtogradschool (someday i'll actually finish/write describing this hashtag of importance. i hope.)
:: having stenzie be among the strongest supporters and aids of team #emily'sgoingtogradschool.
:: counting the number of times i've been grocery shopping this semester on probably one hand. maybe both hands, but no more. and. eating random shtuff i buy on campus sometimes. or. living for sometimes entire weeks off of free meals that come in some form or another. (provided that meal is a loosely defined term.)
:: having most of every single day consumed, weekends included.

all of which is best summarized by one of the wittiest of creations in existence--

namely, the west wing [18th and potomac]:

paul hackett: cj, between friends, is the water over your head?

cj cregg: no, the water is exactly at my head.

the water--it's been exactly at my head this semester, sometimes threatening otherwise.
and sometimes, it's just about whatever gets you through the day.
whatever it is that keeps the earth below my feet.
because i was told by jesus all was well, so all must be well.

and that's really the root of it, you see.
that even though this semester has been the bleen of all bleening bleens,
(and if it were even one day more than it already is,
i probably would fall beneath the water even farther than i already have.)
it's almost complete.
and.
i know that which will be. fragments, anyway.
i know it will work out exactly the way it needs to.
and that it will be absolutely glorious.
a marvelous work and a wonder.

plus. THE SEASON OF TWINKLE LIGHTS HAS ARRIVED.

and if that's not cause for celebration, nothing is.

#copingmechanisms

here's to twinkle lights, catching breath, and catching up eventually on all those waiting things.

see you soon(er than before).

i should know. the record stands.

i have a (growing) collection of drafts of things that i need to write.

seven, at the given moment.

things about significant experiences.

things about thoughts i've had or reactions to articles.

mostly just. recording life.

those significant things that tap on your soul as if to say,

remember this moment. remember this truth. remember this life.

but for now it's a growing collection.

the started that hasn't yet found place or time for becoming the finished.

i had a dream last night.

i've had a lot of weird dreams lately, so let's just stick with last night.

because it was one of those tapping moments.

screaming the need for recognition and acknowledgement.

screaming significance.

i've been thinking a lot lately about the perspectives and attitudes of people within my major.

especially now, in the final semester courses.

and. frankly.

the variation in levels of dedication somewhat surprises me.

but so it is.

it's a field that requires further education and training, though not everyone does.

then i've been thinking about myself and how my perspective has changed through the course of university.

in my dream, i was in an interview for grad school at a certain school.

which is weird because they don't even do interviews for my program,

and also because it was a very atypical interview.

but, the point was that it was saying this:

i'm going to grad school. for all the right and most important reasons.

(more about this later. that is. if i ever get around to it.)

before my mission, i knew that this was what i was supposed to do.

on top of which, i was also nearly done with my undergraduate career.

plus that i've planned to go to grad school since around sixth grade.

(though, at that time i had no idea what i would be pursuing,

nor did i realize what i'd be getting myself into.

life seemed much simpler then.)

the difference between before and after?

i long ago knew it was right, but now i know why.

romania began the process and showed me pieces.

ukraine delivered the rest and solidified the answers.

because i can see. because i can listen.

so that i may facilitate the process of a human soul,

so that i may enable others to become all they're capable of, and be connected in that process.

whether that becoming is from the beginning parts of life,

or returning after a hiccup along the way that necessitates a new path in the same direction.

the record stands.

because i'm becoming too.

and this is my path right now. this is my life.

this is my focus. it's supposed to be.

and as jilly and i always used to say while on the mountain:

всё будет.

those wheels of a dream.

last night i had a dream that i was doing speech assessments with my nieces.
but it was mostly just a language sample, which means we were mostly just playing.
i blame it on the therapy videos in regards to language development that i was watching last night.
(while working on grad apps.)
slp related things have officially entered my subconscious.
what does it mean?
i need more sleep. or a vacation to ithaca.
or both.
carry on.

song of the day: wheels of a dream, ragtime

til my soul is in flight.

from the mountains down to the sea.

i get lost in my mind.

can i tell you about today?

i don't know who you are.

but i need to tell you anyway.

// i love talking about hearing aids and i think they're the most interesting thing in the world lately.

// at work today, i got to take a russian call for front desk. because the other russian speaker at front desk was already gone for the day. (sorry, joel.) so i got to talk to the most pleasant russian man about his son's course. спасибо, Эмили. спасибо вам большое. << those are the words i treasure. and therefore this part of the day alone put me on cloud nine. also, i love middle-aged russian men from ukraine. like this one i chittered with today. because. because this is why. this is the answer.

// after that call i had the moment. the moment that told me, this is why i'm still studying russian and why i learned it in the first place. so that i may communicate. so that i can talk to people like him. so that i get to have experiences like this. i do it for this. << that is the answer.

// pushkin. just. aleksandr sergeevich pushkin. i don't even know where to begin. he just. he gets it. the beauty of what it is to be human. i realize that he and lev nikolaevich tolstoi are both long since dead. but i actually want to be best friends with both of them.

// that table outside the library and jfsb that i spent summer 2010 studying on. i still sit there to read sometimes, while the weather's still nice. and today i did. me, the sun, the shade, and some reading about aphasia. (^^the previous two photos to this point are from that time. and apparently i used to wear jeans.)

 

 // georgie face sharing the beautiful music he's made with me. byumintbrownies, postits, and chitterchatting.

 // we finally have a fan in our apartment. the ac doesn't work and it's been like hades for us on the third floor. firstworldprobs, we know.

// to be wonderstruck. encounters and observationists. feeling winds of movement. of change. loverly.

// making frozen chocolate covered banana pieces with megan beth. (yes, they're real real good.)

(this is actually my favorite photo of all time of meganbeth. it epitomizes her.

the dreaming eyes, the wild hair, the arms wide open,

the legs in motion, but also firmly planted. all in autumn.)

// that golden almost-autumn sunshine that lasted all the day long. the wind that makes your hair tangle and flows through your fingers, breathing life into your heart and soul. breathing perspective. i listen to the wind, to the wind on my soul. because this time of year always makes me think of хтз, megan, and especially our саша and томара.

// megan beth and i. we took a sister drive. driving through fresh and clear mountain air. with all the windows down, the sun roof open. because this is what is needed. it is good for the lungs, the head, the heart, the soul. fresh air, changing leaves, and sunshine. and it is in fact, one of the best decisions we've ever made. hippieish mountain music and all. provo canyon is my favorite. because sometimes your soul just needs to breathe. and there's something about the mountains that makes a person feel whole.

// as we were parking, we passed by a girl in our ward who is mutual friends with spencie spence elder sunshine and had just seen him. he works at the creamery. so we spontaneously went to visit him and got ice cream too. and. he loves me. i love him. we have the weirdest most darling relationship of sister mother brother son siblings, who also share cold mountain. sometimes i forget how much i love. i forget how much those connections mean. also. raspberry lemonade ice cream? crowd favorite.

because god really is good.

and somehow, someway, everything really does work out.

let me run through a field in the night, let me lift from the ground till my soul is in flight.

and i'll start to soar.

this is what mother and daughter look like.

(almost two years after meeting one another for the first time--in this life, anyway.)

so yeah, maybe we (especially me) have severe crow's feet at the age of twenty-three.

but.

all of these lines across our faces tell you the story of who we are.

we all have a story to tell.

and it's worth every line.

song of the day: flight, sutton foster & megan mcginnis