At Jesus's Feet

I do not want this to be a sad post.*

I was thinking about my grandma on my way home tonight. It still doesn't feel real to me. I was there at the hospital. I saw her hooked up to machines and IVs. I listened to the last things I'd ever hear her say, "Thank you for coming. I love you." *Dang. I'm already crying again. I was at the viewing. I said the prayer at the funeral and half sobbed through the song all the grandchildren sang. But it still hasn't sunk in.

I keep believing that I'll go up to my grandpa's house, and she'll be there in the kitchen asking me about dance or my summer plans, and after closely listening she'll say, "Oh honey, that's wonderful. I am so proud of you."

And when you heard her say those words, you knew she meant it. And you wanted to live in such a way that she would always be proud of you.

My grandma was the most compassionate person I know. I can't think of anyone who was better at knowing what people needed and being able to meet those needs. Last month when we went out for lunch for my birthday she was telling me about the homeless lady she'd befriended and how she'd give her food and chapstick and lotion for her weathered hands. She saw people's potential and loved them for who they are.

I miss her. I am her oldest grandchild; she gave me my first bath. I distinctly remember being completely distraught when she left after visiting my family while we were living in Indiana. I remember holding my blanket while crying in my parents' room where my grandparents had stayed and smelling something...peppermint? a certain perfume? because it reminded me of her. Here I am, some 15 years later, still that silly little girl. Grandma had to go back home.

But I will see her again.
And hopefully, when she asks about my life, and I fill her in on years of details of grad school and a wedding and children and whatever else happens to me she can say,
"Honey, I'm so proud of you,"
and that will be enough.

the only exception

Today I decided that I do not wish to attend graduate school alone.

I also decided that either:

a. my French professor forgot about my plan to take an extra year to graduate and the fact that I always fell asleep in his class, actually does like me, and was merciful

or,

b. I rocked my oral final

because I got an A- in that class (French civ)! Yeah!

I know right, A- is not something I would normally brag about (unless it was in o chem...) but this was the [uncurved] class where I turned in my second midterm a day late because I was in San Fran and ended up getting minus 10% on my already not particularly good score. I was expecting a B at best, let's just put it that way.

I also decided that apparently I should've been an English major, because I am much better at verbal reasoning on the MCAT* than on the physical sciences section. Ridiculous. Why I am so drawn to a subject that seems so determined to kill me I will never understand.**

Oh, and I also decided that maybe it would be sort of fun/seemingly good idea/potentially horrible idea, I don't know, to take a computer programming class. Not next semester, because somehow I'm already up to my neck in credit hours, but maybe next winter or sometime next next year.


*Not that I'm applying to med school...my boyfriend is. Sometimes we do verbal reasoning practice tests together, because we are just so darn cool like that. And a little nerdy.

**Not that I would ever change my major, nor have I ever regretted choosing it in the first place...except maybe once when I woke up at 5:00 AM in the Benson and had rehearsal at 8:00.

darkling plain

I'm sorry for my lack of substantial posts lately. Things have been a little crazy. Possibly the most difficult and emotionally taxing semesters of my life is now over, and I feel...empty? It's odd because as awful as the past four months have been, at least they've been full of purpose, and now, I don't know what to do with myself. I'm addicted to hard classes and too much homework. It makes me feel productive and like I'm doing something that matters.

But then, something comes along in the middle of finals week and all of a sudden thermodynamics and French history just seem utterly insignificant. My grandma passed away on Tuesday morning, and it really became hard to care. Really, really, really hard. I have been trying for four days to write up an appropriate post on the subject. But how can you sum someone's life up in one post? How can you possibly impart to the world in a few paragraphs who she was? I tried, and I can't. It's like Apollinaire and Bergson and the Dadaists claimed (Dr. Sprenger would be so proud), language has failed me. Words are completely inadequate.

I want to keep trying anyway. I owe her that much.

stolen words

Dark house, by which once more I stand
Here in the long unlovely street,
Doors, where my heart was used to beat
So quickly, waiting for a hand,

A hand that can be clasp'd no more--
Behold me, for I cannot sleep,
And like a guilty thing I creep
At earliest morning to the door.

He is not here; but far away
The noise of life begins again,
And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain
On the bald street breaks the blank day.

-Alfred Lord Tennyson

Jane Eyre speaks to my soul.

This is the third post I've written up tonight, because I cannot for the life of me decide what it is I'm trying to say.

"Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!--I have as much soul as you,--and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh;--it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal,--as we are!"

Amen, amen, amen.
That is all.

Ok, so I'm in on the craze...

I sort of am in love with the idea of cupcakes.
And Martha Stewart has a book chock full of recipes to make them (I sort of love her recipes).

So I have an idea:
I buy said cupcake book used off of Amazon, make a different cupcake recipe every Sunday, invite people over to eat them and watch "Avatar: The Last Airbender."

Good plan, yeah?

Except I'm moving home in two weeks.
And I know my family would love the idea of cupcakes every Sunday, but my friends would probably not love the idea of driving 20 minutes every Sunday to eat them.

Drat.

On a happy, bragging note, I currently have the highest score in my chem lit class (the miserable one that forces me to do all nighters several times a week) on our 15+ page review paper!!! How this happened, I'm still trying to figure out, as I've been at most semi-coherent while writing it at 4 AM. That's okay, I'll take what I can get.

Here's to two more days of class! Good luck all you college friends finishing up finals and everything!

cheshire cat

"Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

Such an awesome quote. You go Alice.

secret blog buddies. go. click. read. thanks.

Bonjour!

I just wanted to say that this summer I will be living here:


Welcome to Toulouse, France.
Yes please.
(!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I slept through the afternoon session of conference and got 6 tattoos today.*

This is me encouraging all of you who are in the area to attend the ballroom dance concert this weekend as we celebrate the 50 year anniversary of the program!



Dates: April 9th and 10th
Time: 7:30 both nights, 2:00 Saturday matinee
Cost: $12 (which is more than worth it to see the 27 consecutive times national formation team champions)
Place: Marriott Center


If you're interested and want tickets, post a comment, give me a text, call, email, or facebook message. You can buy them online or on the phone, but you'll get charged an extra few bucks as a service fee. The way to avoid that is to go to the Marriott Center in person, but if you contact me, I'll go do that for you. :)

There you have it! Come and support the arts, feel cultured, and be highly entertained!

*I really wanted to use this as a facebook status because I found it highly amusing, but needed to use that space to advertise for concert as well, so there you go. The 6 tats are temporary Easter ones from my girl's night out relief society activity this evening. Oh, and I've been sleep deprived for a month, (3 almost all nighters this week alone) so that's my excuse for the first half.

I used to read in my spare time. Now I fantasize about napping.

The other day I fell asleep at 6:30 AM and dreamed I was trapped in a small elevator.

I think it was a metaphor for chem 391.

Two more weeks, two more weeks...

but this is not me freaking out about school again. kind of. okay, i am, but i'm trying to suppress such feelings.