Feeling Uninspired

I have quite a bit of free time this summer. I live alone, and my class 'load' consists of a golf class and a yoga class. I do research for my thesis. I TA a pathophysiology class. I coach a softball team. But mostly I spend lots of time entertaining myself in the quiet of my living room. Lately this entertainment has been mostly in the form of books (material for a future post) but I also spend time online reading blogs, facebook stalking cute boys, checking email, and browsing Pinterest.

In my casual perusal of Pinterest, I have become exposed to a phenomenon I wasn't aware existed until recently. It is also a phenomenon that I despise with my whole soul. It's called "thinspiration." And it's disgusting.

Pictures like these are often accompanied by sayings like "sweat is fat crying" or "pain is weakness leaving the body."

These pictures are not real, and they are not realistic. These women are not healthy. Few, if any, of these women have regular menstrual cycles. In other words, their bodies have made the executive decision that they no longer have enough nutrients and fuel to sustain one life, let alone two.

I study obesity and TA a class about disease. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned that a few times. I know as well as anyone the risks involved in being overweight or obese. Heart disease, diabetes, cancer, metabolic syndrome, hypertension, etc. But I also know that an estimated 24 million Americans suffer from eating disorders. About 90% of those 24 million Americans are girls and women. Many of them will never be able to have children because of the damage their eating disorder causes to their reproductive system. Many of them will die from complications caused by their eating disorder.

This is not okay. If you are guilty of perpetuating false ideas about what fit, healthy or beautiful looks like, shame on you. The next time you're tempted to 'pin' some 'inspirational' piece of garbage, remember that your physical body is a gift from God, and he expects you to treat it like the temple it is. If you struggle with an eating disorder, please PLEASE get help.

Bleeding Me Dry

According to 'The Free Dictionary,' the idiom 'to bleed someone dry' means 'to use up everything someone has available.'


I donated blood again last Thursday. That makes 3 out of 6 times. Halfway done!


But between you and me...the actual loss of blood isn't draining me nearly as much as the stress due to and preparation for my oral exam. Which will take place this Friday. Which is giving me ulcers. Or nightmares. Or both.


Which probably seems silly, since anyone that knows me knows that talking is one of my favorite and most developed hobbies. So an oral exam seems right up my alley. *deep breath*


The exam involves me and three old guys with PhDs sitting in a conference room for as long as it takes to determine whether or not I have any idea what I'm talking about. Any topic that was covered in any required class I've taken in the last 5 years is free game. Which makes me wish I'd spent much less time asleep in molecular biology and much less time flirting in genetics.

*more deep breaths*

I'm sure it will be fine. The consequence for failing is just getting kicked out of my program. No big deal.

Maybe I should bring the old guys a bribe....

Plan F

Sometimes I let myself get a little bent out of shape about how far my life has deviated from my original planned course. Let's recap the plan, shall we?

The Original Plan:
-Go to BYU.
-Major in art.
      a) never take another math class. ever.
      b) avoid science classes like the plague.
-Travel the world (most specifically, go to London).
-Get married.
-Graduate.
-Start a family.
-Stay home. Raise children. Be an artist.

How It Actually Went Down:
-Go to BYU.
-Major in Physiology and Developmental Biology.
      a) take calculus. get first ever B. but not last.
      b) 83.5 science credits and counting.
-Decide to go to medical school.
-Change mind about medical school. Decide to go to PA school instead.
-Travel the world (study abroad to London. trips to Paris and Barcelona).
-Change mind about PA school. Decide to work after bachelors degree.
-Change mind about working. Apply to physiology masters program.
-Break up with boyfriend of 3.5 years.
-Graduate.
-Get accepted to physiology masters program.
-Break up with pre-med boyfriend.
-Break up with civil engineer boyfriend.
-Decide all boys are lame.
**Present Day**

A recent lament of mine prompted my roommate to post the following on my facebook wall:

So I counted. And I'm officially on Plan F. I'm actually feeling pretty excited about Plan F.

(Which is one of the reasons that I have this ominous feeling....like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. If it sounds good and I feel excited about it, historically speaking...it's not for me. When did I become such a cynic?)

So here it is.  Plan F:

I am going to get a PhD.

I'll be spending the summer investigating labs around the country that do obesity/metabolism research and deciding where I want to apply/who I want to research with. Applications are due in December. The goal is somewhere East Coast.

Maybe when I get there I'll meet Mr. Right. Maybe not. At this point, I don't really care because I'm just psyched at the idea of a doctorate. I haven't decided whether or not I want to do a postdoctoral fellowship (necessary if I want to have my own lab someday) or just be done after PhD. I've got plenty of time to decide though.

So there you have it. My new life plan. I think (hope!) it's a keeper! And with it, my new motto:

The calendar hanging in my bedroom. Design from here.

Dear Guy in Endocrinology,

As the semester has progressed, it has become increasingly evident that you are an intellectual. How accomplished you must feel. As your fellow student, I am continually humbled by the breadth, depth and scope of your knowledge. I feel especially impressed when you correct the professor. He probably doesn't really understand endocrinology, despite his being a pioneer in the field. Your year of experience working in a pharmacy makes his 40+ years of science look pretty pathetic, if you ask me.

One of my favorite things is when you ask questions for the sole purpose of emphasizing your astounding intellect. You know the ones; they usually begin, "Dr. W____, given A, B and C, we must surely be able to conclude Y and Z. Isn't that correct?" On the rare occasion that he disagrees with your conclusions, I am glad that you spend our class time arguing with him. How dare he insinuate that your knowledge and critical thinking skills could be fallible? What does he think, that you're grasping at physiologic straws in an attempt to demonstrate your superiority to your peers? Oh the audacity. Who does he think he is anyway, the department chair?

But the very best part of associating with you is when you condescend to correct my physiology. I always feel so star-struck when you do that, so honored that you would even consider my blunders (numerous as they are) worth taking your precious time to correct. Like today, for instance. The magnanimous way that you set me straight as we discussed the etiology of type I diabetes was art. Pure art. Especially when one considers that just one semester ago, I was teaching you the basics of diabetes as your pathophysiology TA. I happily consider myself surpassed.

My hat is off to you, outspoken endocrinology guy. I cannot help but be secretly jealous of your awesomeness. I suspect you run into this secret jealousy often, and it's probably the reason you're the only unmarried male in the class.  Your receding hairline, smug self-assuredness and repellent personality probably have nothing to do with it.

Let me know when you cure cancer.

Sincerely,
Melissa

Old Friends

Lately I've been trying lots of new recipes, and it's been a lot of fun. But some days just call for those old, familiar friends that have been with you through thick and thin.

We all learn that it's important to develop our talents. One of my best talents is chocolate chip cookies. I attribute this to the fact that for the last twelve years of my life, baking cookies has been my quintessential de-stressing technique. And some of those years were pretty stressful.

Today I baked cookies.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 lb. butter
1 c. sugar
1 1/2 c. brown sugar
3 eggs
2 T. vanilla
1 1/2 t. salt
1 1/2 t. baking soda
6 c. flour
12 oz. semi-sweet chocolate chips

Mix sugars together. Add butter and cream. Add eggs and vanilla and mix well. Sift dry ingredients together and add slowly to butter mixture. Stir in chocolate chips. Drop by teaspoonfuls onto cookie sheets and bake at 350* for 8-10 minutes.

Usually I don't even eat the cookies, although they are delicious. There's just something about the mixing process that makes me feel better.

"Let Them Eat {Insert Food Here}"

Lately my life has been quite full of physiology, obesity, mitochondria, C2 C12 cells in culture, grant proposals, oral presentations, review sessions, statistics tests, etc. In other words, my life has been quite full, but not of things that are super interesting to blog about.

So this post is about food. Which should surprise...no one. Because I love to make food nearly as much as I love to eat it. Possibly more. (This is the primary reason that the research I do on obesity and metabolism is both incredibly relevant, moderately irksome, and occasionally guilt-inducing in my life. Ditto my cardiac physiology class. It turns out that my college student "nutrition" combined with my fairly sedentary lifestyle is probably going to kill me. If you, like me, feel that fruit is best dipped in chocolate, vegetables belong swimming in butter and salt, ice cream is a legitimate source of dairy, and walking up the stairs to your apartment counts as 'daily cardio,' rest assured that your heart hates you.)

And on that pleasant note, on to food! First, the bad news:

Suzanne went on study abroad to Europe last summer. (That's not the bad news.) She bought me a special present while she was there, and miraculously she kept it a secret for SIX WHOLE MONTHS which has GOT to be some kind of record for her. It was Cadbury hot chocolate. All the way from England. (That's also not the bad news.)

Last night I used the very last bit of my Cadbury chocolate. THAT is the bad news. I guess I just need to go back and get some more.....

And since it would be unfortunate to end on such an upsetting note, the good news!

Perhaps you have noticed (perhaps you have not...) that the list of recipes for the year has been steadily growing. So far I've liked all of them, but the recipe I made this week was especially good, partially because it was fantastically easy, and partially because it was just dang good.

Slow-cooker Caesar Chicken Sandwiches

Bandwagon Jumping

Over the weekend I read the Hunger Games trilogy. Yes, I finally caved. I told myself I wasn't going to read them, but the movie is coming out in the spring, and the trailer looked pretty good....and I wouldn't feel good about watching if I hadn't read the books first....and I could download them for free on my Kindle... Saturday morning I started the first one. I read the second one Saturday night after I got home from the BYU basketball game. I finished up on Sunday with the third book.

Part of my motivation to read them was also sentimental. The first time I ever heard mention of "The Hunger Games" was from my little brother Jared when the two of us were driving to Utah. He isn't much of a reader; in fact, he hates it. But he really liked that book. It was probably the first book that he'd read cover to cover in years. Soon everyone was talking about them. Several of my friends told me that I should read them. His recommendation was definitely the most influential though.

When it was all said and done, I think I liked them. That being said, I will definitely be reading something a little lighter and happier next....

Be It Resolved....

So I know it's the fourth of January and I'm a little late posting these, but I'm going to share this year's resolutions anyway. If anything, it's just so I have to be accountable to all (four?) of my readers. Without further ado:

*Read the Scriptures every day (as part of a larger goal to complete the entire standard works--Old Testament included {yikes}--before May 2013)

*Continue to journal daily (I wrote every day of 2011!)

*Read the Ensign cover to cover every month

*Finish my blood donating goal (I scheduled an appointment for January 26th this afternoon)

*Try one new recipe every week (recipes will be featured on this very blog)

*Read 52 books before next January

*Complete 5 Day Zero goals every month

Actually, most of those resolutions are also Day Zero goals.  The clock is ticking; I only have 523 days left to finish.  My five goals for the month of January are:

Edit my London pictures
Get up when my alarm goes off 10 days in a row (no snoozing!)
Start a retirement fund
Write my personal history
Finish my list of 50 things I like about myself


Here's to a good, productive year!

Has Your Mind Been Blown Lately?

In true biology-nerd form, I'd like to share a video today called "The Inner Life of the Cell." It's an animated representation of what's going on in the cells of your body at this very moment. And if it doesn't blow your mind, you might want to investigate as to whether or not your mind was installed upside-down. Just saying.

To be quite honest, I have loved this video for years, and am a bit surprised at myself for waiting this long to share the awesomeness.

Although there is no way for me to completely explain this movie, I'm going to try a little.  The movie starts out inside a blood vessel.  The red blood cells travel up the middle, and the white blood cells are rolling along the sides.  This movie shows what happens when a white blood cell receives a signal to leave the blood stream (a process known as diapedesis).  Most of the little blobs that float around and stick to each other and everything else are proteins.  The stuff that looks like scaffolding is called 'cytoskeleton' and it basically is scaffolding...  The long, thin, stringy things are called mRNAs and are the directions for how to make new proteins.  And yes, there totally is a little guy that walks along the cytoskeleton delivering stuff to the cell membrane.  He's called 'kinesin.'

How much do you remember about cells from fifth grade?  Organelle pop quiz anyone?  The nucleus was at 1:30.  Did you spot the mitochondria hanging out at 1:56? And there's some golgi body action at 2:14.

Sorry if you don't feel as jazzed about all that as I do.  But seriously, the next time you're feeling sorry for yourself, remember that God gave you a really incredible body.  One three-minute animation doesn't even begin to cover how cool it really is.  And if that doesn't help you feel better about life, call me and we'll talk about kidneys.  Or hearts.  Or nerves.  Or brains.  Because if you woke up this morning and you were alive, there's no reason to not feel like the luckiest person on earth.

In a completely unrelated vein, I was also informed about this cool website called Credit Karma where you can check your credit report and score for *free* as often as you want.  It's the first site like that; most of the time you have to pay, or you're limited in the number of times you can check.  Some people think that the more you check your credit report, the more it hurts your score.  That's not true.  It only hurts your score when other people check your credit report (i.e., when you apply for a new line of credit.)  Credit Karma also gives you a breakdown of why your score is the way it is, where you are potentially losing points, and how you rank compared to the average American, as well as other Americans in your demographic. Go take a look!

PS:  I heard about this site from my personal finance professor, so don't worry, it really is legit.

(I feel very much like Suzanne, blogging about credit reports and all...)

When I Grow Up

Today my mom was giving me advice for my future.  There were a few stray cats wandering around my front yard and she thought they might be a good start to my collection.

Maybe for Christmas she'll get me these window vinyls!

Hypothetical Embarrassing Moment

Once upon a time last September, there was a charming masters student who was sitting in the salon getting her hair cut when she received a text message from her boyfriend asking her to meet him on campus with a CD he needed for a class assignment.  She agreed to meet him at a planter in front of the Joseph F. Smith building, a place they had previously met up on more than one occasion.  When her haircut was complete, she jaunted home to get the CD and headed to campus.  As was her habit, she called her mother during her walk to campus.

A fifteen minute walk later, she arrived in the JFSB quad and spotted her boyfriend sitting on the edge of the planter waiting for her.  His back was to her as she approached.  She walked up and sat down right next to him (like...right next to him...like you do with your boyfriend, you know?)  Not wanting to interrupt her mother, she didn't say anything to him, but began scratching his back in a oh-hey-it's-just-me-your-girlfriend-how-are-you kind of way. After a minute and a half of absent-minded back scratching, she hung up with her mother and reached into her backpack to get the CD he needed.  And then she turned to hand it to him....

....and found herself face-to-face with a complete stranger wearing a very amused look on his face.

At which point she so poisedly blurted, 'I don't know you!'

To which he replied, 'Yup.'

She tried to explain, 'I thought you were someone else!'

To which he replied, 'Yup.'

She sat there for a moment, unsure of what to do.  Would it be rude to just get up and leave?  After about 30 seconds of deliberation, during which she attempted to summon what was left of her dignity, she said, 'It was very nice meeting you.  Have a nice day!' and very quickly walked away.

Only to be greeted by her actual boyfriend, walking across the quad to meet her.

The moral of this story is:  what kind of person lets a complete stranger sit down right next to him and rub his back for a MINUTE AND A HALF without saying anything?  Honestly...

Back to Square One....

Picture from here

Life is tough.  And sometimes in order to make it through, you just have to be tough right back.  Manicures and helmets don't hurt either.

A few thoughts on what it means to be tough:

Being tough doesn't mean that you don't ever get to be sad.  Sometimes sad things happen.  I think being tough means not feeling despair.  Even when you're sad, it's important to have hope that better, happier things are coming.

Being tough means looking around for other people that need helmets and manicures worse than you do, and then showing up, nail polish in hand.

My mom and I were in some store a few years back, and we stumbled across a sign that read "Put on your big-girl panties and deal with it."  We both laughed, but it's become a bit of a mantra to my mom.  Although she is too classy to repeat it to anyone but her daughters, on more than one occasion I have been reminded to 'put on my big-girl panties.'  This morning I was talking to my mom, and she told me that 'put on your big-girl panties' is pretty much the same thing as 'gird up your loins.'  Just modernized.  Being tough means "Gird up your loins; fresh courage take."  Or in other words, "Put on your big-girl panties and deal with it."

Being tough means recognizing when you can't just stay home in your pajamas and wallow because there are too many important things on your to-do list.  And you can't go to campus in your pajamas and wallow there either, because that's tacky.  So you put on those jeans that make your backside look good with that blouse that's kinda fancy, and you top the whole look off with some really great waterproof mascara.  And you give that oral presentation with a smile.  And you teach that review session on heart disease with gusto.  And in between, you pop into the bathroom to make sure that mascara isn't letting you down.

Some days I couldn't be more thankful for good family, good friends, and waterproof mascara.

My Type

Upon lots of careful reflection, I have concluded that if I were a Disney character, I would be

Megara

Because I am shaped precisely like that.  No.  Not really.  That was a joke.

Meg is fiercely independent and opinionated.  She says what she thinks, and she means what she says.  In a word, Meg is feisty.

But mostly I am Meg because deep down she's a sucker for this guy:

Kinda shy.  Kinda awkward.  Occasionally uncoordinated.  Always looking out for others.  Always has his heart in the right place. Treats Meg like a goddess.

Oh yeah, and those blue eyes and rippling pectorals don't hurt my feelings either.

Life is Good

Have you ever just had that feeling that you're exactly where you belong?

This afternoon I left the Dean's Office for the last time {as an employee.}  I took my nameplate and name tag and said my goodbyes.  It was sad, to be sure.  They've been so good to me there.  I've been a secretary for around three and a half years now, so it was hard to walk away.

I walked out of the Dean's Office and into the Life Sciences building {arguably the ugliest place on campus.}  As I walked down the hideous hall, I reflected on the direction my life was headed: two years of long nights and early mornings in this building.  Successes and failures.  My own research.  Although Suzy will be shocked to hear this, it intimidates the heck out of me.  I met with the two professors that I am considering as graduate advisers to discuss doing rotations in their labs until I make my choice. I talked with both of them for around half an hour. 

And it was so good.

I am where I belong.  Talking with a Ph.D. about obesity and metabolism and pathology and Western blots and protein interactions and lab safety and being a first author and writing a thesis is where I belong.  It really is.

The Widtsoe Building may be beastly, but today it felt like home.  And I cannot wait for school to start on Monday.

{To Claire: in the part of this post about the Dean's Office, I considered sticking the sweet facebook glasses picture.  I resisted because your friendship means that much to me.  You're welcome.}

Gone Postal

postal: adj. crazy, insane, irrational
 
In July I sold my old biochem book "Principles of Biochemistry" online to some kid in Washington.  Poor bloke.  I shipped it to him from the campus post office on July 13th with a little note tucked inside the cover wishing him luck in biochemistry.  It's not the easiest of classes, and I wouldn't exactly describe the book as 'light reading' (figuratively or literally...the think weighs like 25 pounds.....give or take...)

Imagine my disgruntled reaction to receiving the following email last Friday:

"I ordered "Lehninger Principles of Biochemistry" (5th ed. by Nelson).   It was shipped on July 13 and hasn't arrived yet."

Are. You. Serious.  What am I supposed to say to that?  I shipped it the cheapest possible way (via USPS) so there was no tracking number.  According to Amazon.com I had three options:  a) refund him, b) ship him another copy, c) tell him to be patient and keep waiting.  Great.  Obviously option c) was my favorite, but if I were the dissatisfied customer, I don't think I'd agree.  I had no other copy of the book to send him; one biochemistry book was more than enough to suit my needs.  And I most definitely didn't want to give him his money back, because then I was stuck with no book and no money.

So I picked option d: complain loudly to coworkers about the joke that is the United States Postal Service.   The crowning glory of all my complaints went something like this:  "I could have WALKED to Washington and HAND-DELIVERED it myself by now!"

Claire had the audacity to challenge my statement.  So we took it to the ultimate authority:  Google Maps, walking directions.

As you can see, I was right. In the 23 days that had passed since I shipped the book, I could have easily walked to his front door, even if I were getting a full 8 hours of sleep on the side of the freeway every night.

Forgive me a moment as I channel my father and exclaim that GOVERNMENT RUN PROGRAMS ARE WORTHLESS, AND I WILL BE USING PRIVATELY OWNED SHIPPING COMPANIES FROM HERE ON OUT!

{Incidentally, I also picked option c) and asked the kid to sit tight, as the only addresses written on the package were mine and his, so it was bound to end up on one of our front steps eventually.  He responded very politely.  Hopefully the crisis has been averted.}

If You're Reading This

Dear Seth,
If you're reading this, you should know that I'm really sorry things had to end on a bad note.  Best of luck in your future.

Dear Nathan,
If you're reading this, you should know that I haven't really been able to look at you the same after your bitter tirade last summer.  I think you know the one I mean.

Dear Kevin,
If you're reading this, you should know that if you didn't hang out with such loud, crass girls, nice girls might want to date you more.

Dear Jayce,
If you're reading this, you should know that I have a ridiculous crush on you.

Dear Paul,
If you're reading this, you should know that I saw you on campus the other day with your girlfriend.  You guys looked really cute.  I'm very happy that you've moved on and are happy.

Dear Prince Charming,
If you're reading this, you should stop reading and just come find me.  Any time would be great.

Sincerely,
Melissa

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past: A Lengthy Dissection of my Life as I Know It

Life is shaping up to be a lot different that I thought it would be.  Like, a LOT.  2011 hasn't treated me the way I expected.  The highs have been high, and the lows have definitely been low.  Round about January my lovely little dreams started falling out of the sky where I had hung them so carefully and shattering in piles at my feet.  Bummer.

For instance:  I was going to get married this summer.  I was.  There was no question in my mind.  But I'm not.  The relationship that I held on to so tightly for three and a half years ended rather abruptly.  The nights that I cried myself to sleep for loneliness suddenly held no meaning.  The hundreds and hundreds of letters that I wrote, pouring out my very soul, were for nothing.  I was single again.  Did I despair?  No.  I began a new relationship. It was great and perfect and wonderful, as was he.  I was so happy.  Until it ended too, leaving me alone again, just wondering where I went wrong and what I should do with these dream fragments on the floor.  Cue tragic playlist.  {Go ahead....give her a listen a couple of times.}

This post, however, is not about the ghosts of my boyfriends past.  Those ghosts are still a little too alive to casually discuss on my blog.  Maybe some other time.

The love (or lack thereof) example is not the only instance of life's curve balls this year.  It's probably the dream that hit me hardest on it's way down though.  I've been sad and lonely.  I've been confused and discouraged.  I've started to question what I'm made of.

I read this blog today and had to laugh {sardonically} out loud.  Forgive me for sharing my personal favorite part:

I'm pretty sure that being 22 and single in the LDS culture is the same as being 35 and single in the Regular People world--like, you start to wonder if maybe you should be getting your eggs frozen.

Well shoot friends.  I suppose that's me.  The thing is, it's kinda true.  At the ripe old age of 22, I have almost no single friends my same age.  My little sister's friends are starting to get married.  I went to a baby shower a few weeks ago, and the only other person there without at least one child was the girl that was seven months pregnant.  Am I ever behind the times.

I love my friends.  I am so happy that they're happy.  But more and more lately I find myself wondering bitterly when it will be my turn.  Being single is getting really, REALLY old.  The novelty left with all my single friends.  And even though it's never EVER right to assume that other peoples' lives are too easy, I am so good at being the Joan of Arc of singleness, burning at my stake and looking out at all those marrieds with their cute husbands and cute kids and telling myself that they don't know how good they have it.  {The difference is, these judgmental thoughts are not likely to get me 'sainted' any time soon.}

Enter ghostly boyfriends.  My old roommate's boyfriends to be exact.  Meet Caitlin.

With her blonde hair, big eyes and winning smile, she really couldn't help but be a bit of a serial dater.  All the boys always loved Caitlin, and she never had a dating shortage.  Caitlin was part of the mass roommate exodus of 2008-2009 and now resides happily in Albuquerque where she attends graduate school.  She doesn't run into the boys she used to date anymore, but I still do.  And it's usually pretty awkward.  With the exception of this one guy, Matt.  It's not awkward running into him, probably because they only ever went on one date and I've had more conversations with him than she ever did on account of the walk we shared to the Clyde building from time to time freshman year. I ran into him sometime last year shortly after he returned from his mission, and it took us a second to make the oh-yeah-you-went-on-a-date-with-my-old-and-now-married-roommate connection.  After we did though, things were cool.

I saw Matt today as I was walking home from work.  We said the casual 'hi' as we passed each other, and then from about twenty feet behind me I heard him yell, 'Hey, when do you graduate?'  to which I yelled back 'I already graduated.  I start grad school in the fall.'

And then I walked home in the sunshine, feeling mighty proud of myself.

Elle Woods has a line in "Legally Blonde: The Musical" that I really like these days: "Look how far I have come without anyone holding my hand."

The thing is, I'm going to grad school.  How many people do you know that can say that?  Probably just a handful.  And not just *any* grad school....PHYSIOLOGY grad school.  How legit is that?  And did I mention that they are paying ME for the pleasure of my attendance?

Not only am I going to grad school, but I am a self-sufficient adult.  I pay my own bills.  I finished a bachelor's degree at the age of 21.  I lived in Europe.  I take care of myself.  And I like to think I'm pretty good at it.  So go ahead, look how far I have come without anyone holding my hand.

I've been doing a lot of thinking about those shattered dreams.  It's time to start gluing broken dreams together.  I've decided to make a mosaic.  My life is going to be one fantastic piece of art when I'm finished.

Life Lesson: You Get What You Pay For

Remember how I was so excited for my $2 manicure?  {See post title.....}

On the bright side, I had a really good time with Sandee and Oliver.

{Insert Witty Title Here}

Abraham Lincoln said "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be."  I've always believed that.  Lately I haven't been doing a very good job of making up my mind to be happy.  I've been letting things outside my control affect the way I feel.  That, in turn, has been frustrating me.  I like to feel like I'm in the driver's seat of my life, and I hate the idea that someone or something other than myself has the power to dictate my mood.

So today at lunch I made up my mind to be happy.  I have every reason in the world to be cheerful, and it's selfish to wallow.  I really think that's the bottom line.

When I'm sad or angry or discouraged, my dad always tells me to count my blessings.  Without further ado:

*I have a wonderful family.  I really can't express how much they mean to me.

*I have a bachelor's degree from a respected university, and I'm getting paid to start my master's degree in the fall.

*I love my field of study.  LOVE it.

*I have a good job where the people are friendly and understanding.  They are so good to me here.

*I have amazingly wonderful friends.  The girls I live with now... The girls I lived with before... {And the friends that aren't girls too...}  All great people.

*I have an apartment that keeps me dry when it rains, warm when it's cold, and cool when it's hot.  Yes, the carpet is ugly.  Yes, the dishwasher falls out of the cabinet when you open the door.  Yes, it's not the most deluxe of residences.  But a roof is a roof, and lots of people don't have one.

*I have a car to go wherever I want, whenever I want (Case in point: I ran away to Idaho last week.  That decision was made about 30 minutes in advance.)

*I live in America.

*I know that I have a Heavenly Father that loves me.

*I am getting a manicure tomorrow.  For only $2.  Woot!

*I have a healthy, functional body that puts up with a lot of abuse from me (*ahem*waytoomuchjunkfood*ahem*), but is a remarkably good sport about it.

*Once I lived here.  It was an incredibly opportunity.

Overall my life is really great.  No questions asked.  Which is why my pity party is officially over.

22 As I Know It

On Tuesday of this week I turned 22.  Thus far being 22 has been an exceptional experience, and I highly recommend it.

On Monday evening I got back from campus around 6:30.  I was on the phone with my mom griping about life in general {because my life is *so* hard.  I don't even know what those pioneers were whining about, you know?} when I stepped through my front door.  The singing, dancing 'Happy Birthday' chorus line (comprised of Suzanne, Natalie, Brynn, Madeleine, Annie and Seth) that greeted me left me completely stunned.  Choreographed kickline, no joke.  I just stood in the doorway open-mouthed until they finished.  Then I sat in the special 'birthday queen' chair while we ate dinner.  The crowning glory of the meal was the cupcake that was served to me with 22 burning candles embedded in the delicious cream cheese frosting.  I thought it was going to burn the apartment down.  They were *amazing* cupcakes that looked like this:

Best surprise birthday dinner ever.

Although I was genuinely confused about why we celebrated on Monday when my birthday wasn't until Tuesday.  That is, I was confused until Tuesday night...

Seth came to pick me up to take me to dinner on Tuesday, but before we started driving he insisted that I wear a blindfold.  I complied.  When we finally arrived at our destination, he took off the blindfold... and we were at my Grandma Smith's house?  I decided that it was a little strange, but thoughtful, that he'd decided to take me to see my grandma on my birthday.  And then my mom answered the door.  My parents came to Utah to have birthday dinner and open presents.  It was so good to see them, plus we had my favorite chocolate cake and I got to blow out candles again :)

Suzy left for Europe Wednesday morning.  Everything has been a little less bright and exciting since she left.  I think everyone in the apartment can feel it.  Natalie wore her shirt inside-out yesterday in honor of Suzy, and we wrote her initial on the milk even though she won't be here to help us drink it.  Even though it's sad to have her gone, I loved my study abroad so much and I'm glad she has such an amazing opportunity.

On Thursday I ate delicious Thai food for dinner at a restaurant in Salt Lake.  It was amazing.  I love Thai food so so so so much.

This morning I volunteered in Orem with Habitat for Humanity.  It was a lot of fun.  We worked at a home that is mostly finished doing landscape work.  I raked and leveled topsoil for around two and a half hours, and then I helped lay the sod.  I'd never laid sod before this morning, and I have a sneaking suspicion that my sedentary little self is going to be sore tomorrow.  I drove past that house again later tonight on the way to a wedding reception, and it was really cool to see a green lawn where there were only large piles of dirt this morning and know that I helped make that happen.

This afternoon Seth and I went and watched BYU play Utah in the Mountain West Conference softball championship.  BYU won, which was awesome.  That was the first game I went to this year, which is a little sad because it was also the last home game.  I'm really glad they won.

I'm glad to be 22, and if it's all going to be this good I'm really glad I get to be 22 for an entire year!