notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 15.

it's been six months since graduation.
five months since finishing my final externship.

i suppose it's time i finished up these gradnotes, eh?

i think for a long while there will be residual grad-school-related comments to be made.

i have commentary on side notes learned from classes.
i have commentary on how graduate school affected me.
i have commentary on the endings and beginnings and people inside of them.

but overall.
i've run out of steam.

this past summer i spent an inordinate amount of time unable to really process much.
i spent a lot of time moving around and traveling, but also a lot of time just being still.
and it was very good for me, though also hard in some ways.

it's been over two months now since i started my
real-life-grown-up-big-kid-salaried job.
and i've got to say--
it's a pretty good life.

it's late on a tuesday night right now.
husband is asleep in the other room, but i couldn't sleep.
that's how it happens sometimes, you know?
in the most unexpected and unlikely moments--
that's when my words start to come back to me.

i was at work until almost six,
though my contract is only 8-4.
it's not very often that i actually leave at 4,
but i honestly don't mind too much.
i like my job overall. i like the people i work with. i like the students. i like the community.
i don't mind too much.

we live a quiet life right now, and i must admit it's a relief from the chaos
of dating and engaged and newlyweds
on top of
grad school and externships and finding a job.

at last we get to settle into ourselves--
he and i as we, and he and i in our respective careers and ventures.
together and separate and together again.
that might not even make sense.
but in short it's this:
life is in a stage of relief.

i'm glad i went to graduate school.
i am.
i'm grateful for the professors, the clients, the supervisors.
i'm grateful for the classes, the tests, and the study.
i'm grateful because i did it.
i'm grateful because it matters.
and i'm grateful for what it allows me to do daily.
i'm grateful for the world it opens up to me.

and now, in the phase we're in right now.
i'm grateful most of all because,
as noah and the whale says:

day by day, old joy comes back to me.

you'll sing, day by day, old joy comes back to me.
forget the things that get away, don't dream of yesterday.

song of the day: old joy, noah and the whale.

whatever else anything is.
we're in a good place right now.

and.
this is as good of place as any to realize.

i think this blog has served its purpose.
i think it has reached its culmination.
so many years of musing and thinking and feeling and writing.

i started it around the time i graduated from high school--
laurs and i both did, engrossed in quite the love of blogs.
it's evolved immeasurably over the years,
as has my writing,
as have i.

and with that i say: 

it's time.

a new era of life, 

a new era of writing, 

a new era of memories.

and if you're interested in following along:

where i plan to record our story from courtship to wedding--

especially now that grandpa ray has passed away--

all the way through to daily life. 

now that i have more flexibility with my time, 

i so hope to return to writing again--in some form or fashion, 

even if just as a recording of our story to start. 

because.

i've been missing that deepheartsoul of mine.

the one that clings deeply to russian literature and nearly weeps over some pieces. 

the one that has words bubble up when in the car, doing dishes, or anywhere in between.

pieces of life that need to be expressed, 

even if they're parts that most people don't often speak of.

i've always loved digging deep inside to the raw and the real.

words that have never quite had a place to go for the past little while. 

i miss that part of me--

and hope to bring her home again.

along with the funny and light and twinkly parts of life.

come with me?

it's time to let go of

emily janette nevers

(with grand respect and reverence)

and say hello to

( emily janette christofferson )

does it help convince you if i share a darling photo

of the love that lets us share a (relatively-new-to-me) last name?

ps. yes. i'm also saying goodbye to blogger. 

it's been real, but kind of like high school--

after awhile, you've really just got to let go.

pps. i know there's not much there. yet. #powerofyetandgrowthmindsetandstuff

binding.

dear hublet of the future,

(do people even still write letters like this anymore?

it used to be all the rage to write dearfuturehublet letters.

because there's something endearing and sweet in that, right?

no? just me? i'm probably behind the times.

oh. right. seeing as i'm one of the few remaining in my peer group--

not yet married or about-to-be-married.

got it. moving on.)

- - - - - - -

i have this thought about one little thing in relation to our wedding day.
(aside from the sunflowers, lace dress, and classy suit on you, obviously.)

i want us to have a ring ceremony.

because i want any and everyone to be able to celebrate with us.
to partake of light and love and joy.
we'll be sealed in the temple, of course.
and i'm not undermining the importance of that.
but i'd like to have a civil ceremony as well.

because isn't that the point of weddings--
the way people are brought together in love and unity?
the way i see it, love and unity means everyone should get to be a part.

ergo, i want us to have some kind of a ceremony outside of the temple as well.
and then we'll get on with our charming garden party.
somehow, in some way.

just a little thing.

see you later, see you never.
love you byyeeeeee.

ems.

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.

#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.)

i've searched high and low.

two weeks ago (one representation of how behind i am on everything in life) the parkinsons came into town for hannah's birthday. those hales cousins, you see. and so grandma invited me to join with them at dinner to celebrate. ^^then had ice cream. (because what's a birthday without ice cream?)

it's been a month now since that night.

(the day i fully process the past three years of my life will be a miracle.)

but i'm still going to write about it anyway.

because it was meaningful. because it changed my perspective.

we sat and talked, and somewhere in the midst of hearing about them, and the missionary twins, and everything else, it really hit me: two months isn't that long. and from that moment, there were two months until the end of the semester. (two months until israel!) and now, just one until i'm done with my undergraduate career. and for the first time this semester, that night i finally started to feel that two months would go by fast. let me be the first to tell you one month later--it is. it's filled and flying.

after ice cream, we all went back to grandma's where my car had remained, and there we all talked for a little bit before i parted ways with them. and here my perspective changed again.

karen and grandma both started to talk of their college and after-college years. the years that preceded marriage and the years directly following marriage. they talked of their own experience and the way things came to be. karen told a story of someone she had dated and left thinking, i could probably like him. i could make that work. but then soon after, when dating mark (her husband, my uncle), she realized that she just did. she didn't have to think about it. she just liked him without having to think about liking him. it worked.

this is the thing. i've thought that before too. i could probably like him. i could make that work. and something about hearing that someone else has thought that too--well that meant something. you can think that, and you can let it go, and eventually him comes--a him that you don't have to think about it with--that you just like them. and then i knew. when it comes, i'll know. because i won't have to think myself into it.

the grandest thing of all, was something like this. seeing the universality of human experience and an enlarged perspective of families. the way these relatives of mine went through all these same experiences, though the details themselves were different. twenty plus years ago, they lived these years too. and here they are now looking back, seeing the way it all works out. seeing the way it worked out so perfectly, filled with love and light and goodness. filled in a way so perfect, anything else is unimaginable.

and now they're a part of my beautiful extended family, with a delightfully prosaic and snarkily charming family of their own. beautifully real relationships. because that's what it's really like as life comes to be, as life finally works out. it just is.

and back in february, i was struggling to see that.

struggling to see anything ever moving forward.

struggling to see how life ever falls together.

but now i know.

it always does.

i can't tell if each part is near or far.

i don't know all the when's or how's or who's.

i only know some.

but i know enough to know--it's there.

even now, just one month later.

my life. the destiny of my life.

all is falling together, and all will fall together.

it always is.

i've searched high and low. 

and the lost is being found.

hold onto hope.

because hope is always (eventually) filled.

if nothing else, given an answer of some kind.

filled with perspective.

because two months really isn't that long.

and neither is one.

( 31 days 

until my finals are through.

but who's counting? )

there never was a happier time.

i consider the summer i turned twenty to be the happiest time of my life so far.

and i dare say that summer will always remain near the top of that list.

there never was a happier time.

i've been thinking a lot lately about that summer.

when this place was my place, these people were my people.

that time when my entire existence consisted of a life of sweat, labor, and love.

my summer in romania. 

i've never been so satisfied, so fulfilled. a life of the purest simplicity and the purest of souls surrounding me. and there never was a happier time. never before have i been somewhere that i never wanted to leave, somewhere that--by the end especially--had become not only a home, but a lifestyle that i could have easily and happily lived forever.

because it's there i fell in love with that musty scent of old paint and incense and books so unique to the inside of old churches. the thrill of a language not native to you becoming your own. the odd, but wonderful thrill of sweat and hills to climb. the delight in walking everywhere and being in the city. (this is where the change began in me--when i began to be a citylovinggirl.) and much, much more.



most of all. that eastern european heart and soul, different even in some ways from those purely russian, and especially from western europe. because there's something different about these people in those places that no one else knows. everyone's heard of moscow, or at least the country of russia. everyone's heard of paris, london, and berlin. but what about românia, let alone iași? what about ukraine, let alone donetsk or kharkov?

what is it, you ask? what's different about them? that's just it. it can't be pinpointed to any one thing. but there's something in them that i came to understand. something in their history that lingers in every part of who they are, because it is a history that isn't so distant. a history of events barely older than me. a history that wasn't history, but a story lived. and in these people that most the world doesn't know or even care to know, there is the most profound beauty i've ever known.

i wish everyone could walk those streets and look into their eyes. see past their faces and into their hearts. not only those on the streets, but also become acquainted with those who were mine in section 2 and at the hospital. i wish you could see each of their faces, see them as i do. watch them as i say, hai la mine. я жду. i wait until the day i can call to them again. longing. for hills and endless stairs to climb, skin that's never been tanner, stuffy, sweaty rooms, eyes that have never been brighter, and perspective that's never been clearer. because all these things to me came as i threw myself into that which was my call--to the work in each day, which could be better described as full commitment to the souls that came my way each day. a predictable set in section 2, as well as the unpredictable passing ships in the hospital. those children i gave names to call them by, because they hadn't been given one. and so i chose one that seemed fitting, and this is who i know them as, even if they didn't stay long. there was an esmerelda and a felicity, an eliza and a robby. i wish that you could see them too. the babies, and those who are mine. i wish you could glimpse into even just a day with them--a glimpse into a day from the way things were that summer.

today marks three years since i opened my mission call to ukraine. three. ( i have a thing for the number three, you see. ) it probably seems odd that on a day such as this, i'm thinking and talking more about romania than ukraine--much, much more. there's a reason, though. these nations. these cities. these people. they are irreversibly connected in my mind, permanently connected in my life.



the thing about my call to ukraine, is this: my very first thought while reading that letter--after moving the envelope that was blocking that line down and seeing the capital U and then reading ukraine--my first thought? i'm going back to eastern europe! regardless of what else ever happens in my life, march seventh will forever be a day that i can look to in order to remember the tender mercies of god. a day that is direct evidence of the way god directs and guides a life--the way we are led and carried, directed exactly to where we need to be.

march seventh is the day that shows me god knows me. it shows me that this thing, this thing that started out as a feeling, and then grew into a hope. which then turned into a quiet thought, which then turned into a quiet word. (thanks, regina.) this hope of returning to eastern europe--perhaps romania, perhaps not. this love of a place because of the understanding i came to have of the depth of these souls. march seventh is the day that answered that prayer and yearning. march seventh is the day that shows me not only is god aware of us, but answers the desires of our hearts--those known and unknown. march seventh is the day that serves to say: 'oh hey, em. i've got your back, remember? there's a plan. just you wait and see. and this is the day i show you. this is the day you glimpse into the glory.'
[have we talked about this? when speaking to me, tatăl ceresc (heavenlyfather/romanian) most frequently addresses me as em. in a phrasing and intonation that is particularly tender and distinctive. weird? sorrynotsorry.]

because you don't just end up in romania or ukraine. they're not everyday places. and in those years especially, everything felt particularly guided. did you know that i made my way and ended up in romania because of not getting a job that i was about to get? a very good job that all indicators pointed to me being given. it was because of not getting that job that my entire schedule and plan was able to be adjusted. and suddenly i was going summer. and suddenly i had it all planned out to be going to romania a year later. which all started from not getting a job.

i found romania while looking at france. but france was geared more towards students in their first and second year of french courses, much less being offered for the level i was at. and i stumbled into romania and that's when my life truly changed. guided. because if it wasn't for not getting that job, i wouldn't have gone to romania. if i hadn't gone to romania, i'm almost certain i possibly wouldn't have gone on a mission. and had i not chosen to serve a mission, i wouldn't have ever gone to ukraine. and without these pieces, i'd be missing so much of who i am. because i was always meant to go to romania and ukraine. it was always a part of me, even when i didn't consciously realize it. it was still there. still waiting to be found. not that it wasn't there before, but that i couldn't quite see.



i don't mean to undermine ukraine and my experience there in any way. if anything, i hope this magnifies it. because they shared many similarities. at the core of which is what i learned of real, genuine love and faith. that said, there were differences too. in fact, that's something that was hard for me to grasp while in ukraine--the differences from the beauty of what romania had been. not necessarily in the people, but in the experience. because love and fulfillment came so easy in romania. the people were already there awaiting me. those babes of mine. but in ukraine, it was fewer and farther between. it took more faith and more trials of that love. and that. that's why i'll always love românia. because god is so good to me.



i consider myself by the end of my time in romania to be among the prettiest i've ever felt. because of that which was awakened in my soul. because of the color to my skin that came from europe and came from labor. because of the grime in my hair and the perfect ringlets that formed at the nape of my neck, particularly on extra sweaty days. because of the way my eyes were opened, and there i learned to truly see that which is most essential--which is to say, that which is invisible to the eyes. because there never was a happier time.



as mumford says so well, now my heart stumbles on things i don't know. to say life at this stage is marked by radical uncertainty is the greatest of all understatements. if you're wondering what the twilight of uncertainty looks like, this is it. i really don't know what the future will bring. i really don't know what's in store for my life or how it will come to be. but because of march seventh, i know it will be. i know it will be something grand and glorious, something specific to who i am and who i'm becoming.

because of march seventh, i can take another step.

one step enough for me.

it's time to begin, isn't it?

the other half of history.

we were sitting in the hall before class. 

chittering about a book he needs to read for a history class. 

a book this friend only needs to read half of, because in class they're not reading the other half. 

"because who needs the other half of history?"

that's what i said, with a laugh escaping through my words as we joked.

and in the moment the words came out of my mouth i concluded, 

some day i will write a book by that title.

the other half of history.

the parts we don't talk about.

the stories that don't get told.

the woman rather than the man, or the man rather than the woman.

the child rather than the parents, or the parents rather than the child.

the brother's story rather than the sister's, or the sister's story rather than the brother's.

the other half of the history we know,

the other half of the stories we're told.

the muted voices in an obliviously deaf world.

the other half of history.

because there's always more than one side.

and all these sides together--this is what it means to be human.

(because strokes of inspiration always come in the most unlikely and rudimentary of moments.)

your glass is empty, i'll pour some more.

(written 22 january 2015. still mostly applicable.)

i learned how to say 'speak of the devil' in russian.

it was in a play i read for class today.

легка на помине.

i'm ultra insecuresensitive about my russian lately.

i'm not sure why.
i'm not sure what triggered it.
i just am.
yesterday i was chittering with shariska about it,
and she made the point.
the point that the people who are in these classes,
aren't just the average russian speaking missionary.
these are the people who are pursuing it.
the ones who are more gung-ho.
the ones who to start with were already real good.
we talked about the havinganativecompanion difference.
i don't share this often,
but before i went on a mission--
even before knowing that i was going--
i always dreamwanted a native companion.
because i know that's one of those things.
one of those things that can really make a difference.
i was young and naïve, not realizing the intricacies that a mission contains.
the way everything about my mission played out was for a reason.
i know that.
i'm grateful every day to god for the beauty of my ukraine.
but sometimes.
sometimes it's hard for me.
because my russian was good. really really good.
from the start.
and i do have a gift.
but because of that,
i know what i am capable of or what it could have become,
had the opportunity existed.

it never did.

or maybe i didn't work hard enough at it.
no.
i won't even say that.
because i know.
the focus i placed on my mission was right.
i was right to let there be humanity.
i was right to give the reins to my daughters when training those last seven months.
i was right to focus on their progress and development rather than mine.
but.
because of that.
my linguistic progress stalled.
had i done a moscow internship,
i know it would have gotten there by that means too.
i considered going last year.
i never told hardly anyone, but i did.
i legitimately really actually did.
for a minute i factored it, tried to imagine if it could be.
and it was something i considered more seriously than anyone would ever know.
but money.
but i already went to romania.
but--this above all--it just wasn't right.
i needed to be here last summer and have the summer i had.
and i know that.
i know.
до мозга костей--я знаю.

but sometimes.
sometimes it's hard for me.

this language--these languages i've studied.
what has it been for?
french gave me much both culturally and linguistically.
and it taught me to learn a language.
romanian gave me communication--a vision of what it is to become really good in a language not my own.
because at the end, i was really quite quite good.
and i would be asked if i was romanian.
but then i was called away from that.
i went back to french, and it never could groove with me the way it once did.
and then ukraine.
and i was scared from the start. but deep down knew i could.
i set lofty language goals.
and.
i know my russian is good.
i know i picked up on it faster than most at the start.
but.
somewhere, sometime.
it slowed, and sometimes even halted.
and never came to fruition in the way i thought it would, or the way i know i'm capable of.
but why?
doesn't god want me to have that strong ability?
maybe i'd have been too proud.
maybe it's not about attaining in the way i think it is.

in analyzing my patriarchal blessing recently, i had a realization about mine.
it is filled with people.
many people.
influence.
but not with roots, at least not in a long term sense with people.
rather, the roots are spread and stretching widely.
my муж will be a root. our family will make its own.
but i think. i think just like now, we won't have a set place.
maybe literally, but for now i mean figuratively.
we'll stretch our wings and circles.
ebbing and flowing in and out of circles of people, not necessarily tied to any particular one.
and maybe that's what my pursuit of doublemajor is for.
for a stronger foundation in order to communicate when i need to.
for a stronger foundation to be returned to later, so that it can be returned to later.
for communication.
like that russian call i took at work last semester.
that i could functionally communicate with the father of a student po telefonu.
i know the language in order to connect with the people.

i know.

but i am so good with phonetics and grammar.
i don't always love it, but i am good at it.
i was once good at all those little language things.

i know.

just. sometimes.
уязвляет моё самолюбие.
my pride is stung.

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.

дальнейшее движение.

а поезды--мне нравиться.

i like trains. and planes. and trams.
because i like the process.
the movement.

i like spring and autumn most of all.
because i like the transition.
the movement.

because in those times is when you truly see
the change.

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

one man's eden.

Eden is that old-fashioned House

We dwell in every day,

Without suspecting our abode

Until we drive away.

Emily Dickinson, Eden is that old-fashioned House

there's this painting i stumbled upon a few months ago in an obscure hallway in the library. one that looks like many others: a landscape of a small town in what looks like rural utah. there's some cows and what looks like a barn, some modest cottages and a steeple in the distance. all of which sits comfortably at the base of some blueish and green rocky mountains. it doesn't have to be utah. it could be the scene from a train of romanian countryside. maybe ukrainian. or perhaps it is just right nearby, just outside of park city, or maybe the path to idaho. we've likely seen such a scene a million times, really. each with its own variation.

i've seen such paintings time and time again and while they are beautiful, most would typically be passed by without great fanfare. without even a second glance. but here i am, telling you all about this one painting, patterned after so many others.

because. i can't get the title out of my head.

One Man's Eden

i've been thinking about the concept of eden a lot lately. which also could be termed as, thinking of the concept of home. it's this obsession of sorts that i have with this idea.

this is a place where i don't feel alone.

this is a place where i feel at home.

song of the day: to build a home, the cinematic orchestra.

a few years ago, google had this ad when they first came out with google plus and the new idea of video chatroom hangouts. a commercial featuring snippets of conversations among people connecting with loved ones from afar via video. connections. the fostering of relationships, the reinforcement of relationships. each was just a small snapshot into a home. (and sometimes it made me want to almost think about shedding a tear.)

home: a place of residence / social unit formed by a family living together / a familiar or usual setting / congenial environment / place of origin.

at home: relaxed and comfortable / at ease / in harmony with the surroundings / on familiar ground

home is a place where people know the intricacies of one another, even if time and distance mean that they don't know the daily details anymore. home means being together, regardless of what you may be doing. it means talking about a little of everything, just because you can--including a small pause while the almost-two-year-old screams out a few words, or even just a pause to watch them nibble at a potato wedge and observe you. being together just to be, sometimes sitting around in occasionally-interrupted silence. home is built around people related and people that love, or maybe just people related by love. home is the place and people that are still there as you come and go from your wanderings.

because i have in me a restlessness. a need to wander.

i don't have a home right now--i haven't for quite sometime. i have pieces of homes where i can temporarily visit, yes. but none to call my own. none that belong to me. sometimes it's hard to feel like this transitory student/apartment/single living isn't temporary. i often feel as though it's all i've ever known.

is this home? is this what i must learn to believe in? (home, beauty and the beast)

you see, honey, i saw love. you see, it came to me. it put its face up to my face so i could see.

see, honey, i am not some broken thing. i do not lay here in the dark waiting for thee.

no, my heart is gold. my feet are light. and i am racing out on the desert plains all night. (song for zula, phosphorescent)

sometimes i see home. sometimes life experiences bring edenhomelove to my face so that i may see. and sometimes i get homesick for a home that once was or one that doesn't exist yet. home is a feeling, not a place. home is where one is most at harmony. home is where one finds the purest contentment on familiar ground. home can be anywhere. home is something you build.

this is home, to build a home.

often the purest forms of our own eden that we ever find, we never notice until we've already driven away.

eden. being still within the presence of god. home.

to a certain extent, we each define our own old-fashioned house. being still within the presence of god, in harmony with surroundings, and at ease--that looks different on everyone. one man's eden is not another's. and yet. finding a similar eden is how we build connections. this is how we build a home.

what does your edenhome look like?

i had a dream so big and loud.

my new roommate reminds me of sister andrade. bestthingever.

newest summer goal for after the gre? i'm going to learn spanish. and i'm actually serious.

elder mikey cousin comes home next week. and then will be in ptown. i'm thrilled.

i never really recorded anything about my birthday. or my birfdayparty. what a shame. somedaytherewillbeplace.

i'm so much more relaxed since spring and summer began. and there's still several months to go.

spring has been good to me, overall. summer will too. i can tell.

the sun. sun is good for me. i can never get enough. heat warms my soul.

i saw multiple people i love this week. elder dykman (spencer?) was in town. and laurs came to visit.

i have red pants. so clearly i planned my fourthofjuly outfit. normal, right? #favoriteholiday.

i was so uptight when i first got home. i didn't realize how much, until now.

there's a relaxation and calm sinking into my bones. sun sinking into my bones. and. i like that.

there's more i could say. but for now, adieu. adios, amigos. (see what i did there?)

the ring is laurs's. clearly i'm not engaged. i was wearing it so it didn't get lost while we baked up a storm.
or in other words. i made her put the cookies on the sheet. #burnedem #cookiesarenotmystrength

and.

some songs i'm obsessing over lately,

some especially for while morning running and swinging as the sun rises:

(because a good playlist makes all the difference.)

best day of my life, american authors.

wake me up, avicii.

93 million miles, jason mraz.

breezy, conor oberst. (thanks to jilly)

gone for good, the shins.

all of the stars, ed sheeran. (thanks to laurs)

and current complete favorite?

gone, gone, gone, philip phillips.

give me reasons to believe that you would do the same for me.

and i would do it for you.

like a drum, baby, never stop beating.

like a drum my heart never stops beating. for you.

we must plunge.

// i've been feeling like a boss a lot lately. i am. clearly everyone should know that.
// i'm having a hard time focusing on my gre math review class right now.
// today was a perfect weather day. there's nothing lastingly bad about a may day.
// i work. with some very delightful humans.
// the swinging. it's still a thing. they heal souls. and let souls dream.
// i forget sometimes how much changed while being gone for a year and a half.
// for my bday we're having a partay next week. a birthday party. cue this song.
// there are a lot of things i wish i could write about. wish i knew how to write about. but i can't.
// i was enchanted. this is me praying that. wonderstruck.
// i'm going through a major obsession with this song. because it is now. perfect. are we there yet? somebody.
// some of my mission 'daughters' are in the same place in their mission now as i was when i trained them.  #weird
// steve and i speak in hashtags more than should be acceptable. #soulsoldforarioporkburrito
// my mtc companion called me for a quicksecond today. i adore her. gwennie.
// jillian and i are so almostmarried that we spend our lunch breaks together. haaha.
// now gre math is over. i got a gold star from the instructor for thinking quick.

time for swingdate. no better way to end a long all work, some play mayday.

1:68. 1:42. 1:189.

april, did you know, is world autism awareness month?
april 2nd is world autism awareness day.

the cdc recently released new and startling statistics, perhaps you heard?
1 in 68 children has an autism spectrum disorder.
1 in 42 boys. 1 in 189 girls.
and. the numbers in utah are even higher.
yes, diagnosis abilities have improved. that can't be denied.
but. that cannot be the only explanation for such a rise in prevalence.

a few years ago, i began to fall in love with autism.
all because of a little boy named ghița.
(pronounced like pizza with a g at the beginning--gizza.)
one of those one in forty-two boys.
but to me, he was just ghița.
my ghi ghi.

i might be volunteering at a school for children with autism soon.
i walked in to drop off paperwork today.
and.
there's something in the air there.
something that makes me feel like i could and should spend my whole life in that kind of environment.
i don't mind working in an office.
but.
in the end.
i want to work with people. in a direct way.
and something in the air revived that today.
a reminder of the future, if that makes sense.
a tender mercy message moment from god.
a reminder of who i will be. and what i will do.
of who i'm becoming in order to give my life to helping others become.
doing something that truly changes a life.
that.
that is why i will be a speech-language pathologist.
that will be my specialty: the art of becoming.
to elicit that greatness which is already there.
for expression, for speech, for communication, for relationships.
autism speaks.

слушаю ветер.

"i listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul.

where i'll end up, well i think only god really knows.

...

i listen to my words, but they fall far below.

i let my music take me where my heart wants to go."

the wind, cat stevens

yesterday someone gave me a pinwheel.

it seemed metaphorical for my life.

i listen to the wind of my soul.

i'm restless like the wind.

(sister andrade appropriately named me a sappy hippie.)

where i'll end up?

only god really knows.

i had a knowing today.

a knowing that i'll get into grad school.

that it'll all work out.

and. i'll be a speech pathologist. err sumfing.

a dang good one.

something that advocates people.

something that opens people right up and allows them to better be.

so that they can become 'a dang good one' at whatever they're becoming too.

"whoever you are, be a good one."

thanks, abe.

note the day.

you know, they say that when your heart speaks, take good notes. and. my heart. i think she's been trying to speak. trying to find words.
but, i haven't been taking notes.
because there is no way to take good notes. you see, my heart. she. doesn't know. just that. doesn't know where she is. doesn't know what she's doing. doesn't know who to be. doesn't know when she'll feel normal. doesn't know how to be what she's reaching towards.
i used to think i had a plan for my life. knew what i wanted. where i was going. turns out, i don't.
i love people. i love their stories. all have a story to tell.
but.
sometimes. lately. i wonder if that's actually true.
sometimes. lately. i wonder if i have an attachment disorder.
hear me out.
i. moved so much. for so long. i went through meeting scores of people day after day. giving them my heart, but having it ninety-nine point nine percent of the time thrown back in my face. people came and people went. people went some more. so. in going through such a process over and over and over again, after awhile, i think i lost my ears for listening. i lost the chord that would tie my heart to others. because i had to. because i couldn't anymore. it would be too much. but now. now i'm not there anymore. and yet. i don't know how to connect with people. not really. i can on the surface. oh, what a good actress i can play. but in the depths of my heart? she doesn't know how to truly let others become a part of her. because she had to learn to be a one man band. guarded. a masterful caretaker of all other hearts, though she herself wasn't allowed to get particularly attached until she knew she could.
my heart. she went through quite a beating in ukraine, you know. well, you probably don't know. but. she did. but that beating made her strong. the strongest. the best. and she shared herself. she was a beautiful blend of openness and guarded wisdom. if nothing else, i shared that with my sisters. hearts. humanity. work like crazy, but humanity. never lose that. it was lost, but never should be again. that's what i fought for. my daughters. they know. and. i trained them well. they're the best. because. well. i must say. i was a real good trainer. how do i know? i know when i look at them. when i look at all they're becoming.
what does that mean, though, for now?
a longtime one man band doesn't know what role to give instruments that try to join the music. not that they're not wonderful. of course they are. but. what role do they play when one man has spent so long doing everything himself? he did it all himself as soon as he realized that he must, but when a new band comes to harmonize? well, he doesn't know how to harmonize with another band. he doesn't know what role to give them.
it was a long time ago that i went to romania. coming on three years. little did i realize all that still lied ahead. but. romania. in coming home from romania. that's where i first discovered--i have a soul that lives in a constant state of restlessness. i. like watching the world become smaller with each passing day. i like not being in america. i like being surrounded by beautiful eastern europeans. i like being out in the world. out truly doing something in life. not just sitting in a room talking about it until the cows come home. and my mission taught me an even newer perspective of home. well, taught me. that i don't have any true, lasting definition of home. not in the way you'd think. because. because home is not a place. maybe for some, but for me it never will be.
i can't stay in provo long-term. i just. i can't.
and. all these choppy sentences.
all these choppy lines.
that is where i live my life. in choppy. half-developed thoughts, feelings, or ideas. where are they all to live? where does the end of them find itself?
just like the puzzle of the caterpillar becoming butterfly.
piece after piece.
just like igor and lilia's apartment doorway.
closed. always closed. not a soul around. locked. day after night after night my first cold mountain. then. just once we stopped by during cold mountain round two. and that door. that corner.
wide open.
searching and searching. pleading. wrestling. struggling.
что-то ещё не хватает.
then. come back later, and. the door is wide open.
after all that. just. open.

so here we live our lives. here we heal our hearts.
one day upon another. one moment upon another.
one more day. one day more.

i don't like the letter 'z'.