A Post From the Draft Archives. Incomplete, but Interesting.

Hello Dear Reader,

Well. This is being composed from within the confines of LAX. Somehow, too much time has passed and we find ourselves within the realm of 2013. One more trip, a few more hours of travel, and I complete the return to normalcy.
I'm going home, folks. Back to work.

There is too much to be said about the last semester, and about the year that has so recently come to a close. There are too many defining moments, too many short stories, too many characters to bring to life, too many scenes to sketch out: it is the problem of moving between worlds. Worlds are constructed out of impossibly many tiny details, delicately interwoven so as to avoid attracting the attention of those within their bounds. As a result, it is impossible to convey the rich, subtle structure of our foreign lives.

The remainder of my semester in Budapest was fantastic. It always surprises me how time is capable of shifting and re-shaping structures that appear fixed. But so it goes. New, wonderful, surprising friendships emerged. Lessons were learned. Fun was had.
In terms of travels, I ventured to Prague, Paris, Auschwitz, and Krakow. Each of these was an amazing experience onto itself. I had several nights of staying up to mad hours of the night, even going to bed just as the sun began to rise after a night of laughter, dancing, mangoes, and hot chocolate with friends. I enjoyed many a heartfelt, silly, earnest, intriguing conversation with people who effortlessly stole their way into my heart.
I am usually a bit disappointed and frustrated with myself when it comes to closings or goodbyes. It never feels sufficiently real and adequately heart-wrenching, and I am left feeling altogether too sensible and removed.
Leaving Budapest was not like that. It was hard. It was really hard.

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(And that's when I boarded the flight back to Carleton. And life became crazy once more.)

Still alive. Still in Budapest.

Dear Reader,

Yes, I am still alive. And I am still in Budapest. And it is, mostly, exceedingly wonderful.
I am absolutely ashamed that it has been a long (yet short!) two months since last we met. It is embarrassing. I promise it will not happen again!
But, there's no use in lamentations at this point. We must boldly move forward!

So... How to even describe the last two months?
There is no way I can do it justice.

For one, I have developed two very dear and wonderful friends who I almost regard as sisters. Luckily, I get to take those two girls back "home" with me... at least until they graduate in June! Oh noes! But my two roommates have been crazy-awesome and I have come to love them immensely. Our room seems to be always filled with happiness and laughter, or else some good heart-to-heart. I have been infected by their speech patterns, I have started learning how to cook thanks to them, I have been enlightened through exposure to Riverdance, I have learned how to do a mean air-violin to Call Me Maybe, and much much more! Even had I not gained anything else from this program, befriending these two would have made my Budapestan adventures more than worthwhile.

But that's not all!
I have gotten to meet even more awesome people while in Budapest. Alas, most of these are people that I *don't* get to take back to Carleton with me. But I have thoroughly enjoyed our potluck dinners, crepe adventures,  discussions about connectionist neural networks, forays into Euclidean geometry, disagreements about the value of philosophy, late-night philosophical-movie watching, good-humored teasing, and all the rest of it! I love that I have gotten to know a group of passionate, intelligent, well-read, fun nerds who like to laugh and be silly, as well as to share/discuss/explain/argue about ideas. There are a lot of people I will be sad to leave come December...!
But it's been a good two months, and we still have one more! Huzzah!

I no longer embarrass myself at grocery stores (mostly). I have successfully navigated the Hungarian mailing system. I have befriended a couple of Hungarian students and an absolutely delightful French student. I have gone on two excursions with the program as a whole, which provided lots of good bonding time and pretty Hungarian scenery. I have learned to j-walk like a true Hungarian. I have learned how to put together healthy, delicious, and happy one-pot-wonders. I have come to love Budapest and its glorious river Duna.

I have also gotten to venture outside of Hungary. I went on a weekend trip to Vienna with my roommate Lauren. This was glorious-- not least because I was well-accompanied. I also spent a week in Italy for our break: one day in Pisa and three days in Florence (with my other roommate and another friend), followed by one day in Pompei and three days in Rome (flying solo). Oh my goodness... So, so glorious!

Highlights:
Vienna-- definitely the Albertina, with its jaw-dropping impressionist paintings.

Italy... Oh boy!: Climbing the leaning tower of Pisa. The sculptures at the camposanto at the Field of Miracles in Pisa, as well as the sinopias.  Florence's duomo. Michelangelo's David (!!). Pretty much all of Pompei-- ruins and gorgeous scenery both. Passing myself as a Spanish girl from Barcelona while in Pompei... The Roman frescoes at the National Museum in Rome (particularly the four walls of garden fresco... glorious!). The House of the Vestal Virgins at the Forum, as well as the rostrum, Ceasar's mound, and the temple of Romulus. The Colosseum and the Pantheon. Roman sculpture at both the National Museum and the Capitoline museum. Several of the rooms in the Vatican Museum. The art (especially Bernini's sculptures!!) at the Borghese gallery.

I basically discovered during my trip that 1) Medieval art can be hilariously not-that-great 2) David is a piece of beautiful, artistic perfection 3) Roman frescoes/art blow my mind 3) Gian Lorenzo Bernini is (was...) a freakin god.

As proof of that last claim, just look at this. I stole this from the internet (someone successfully violated the no-photo policy of the gallery...), but it is a close-up of part of Bernini's Rape of Proserpine, whose home is at the Borghese.

It's just like flesh!!
But it's marble!!!
HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS??
Mind: blown. Life is wonderful.

My only point of displeasure is the fact that a number of these beautiful sculptures are supposed to be depicting rape.
...What? Not cool!
There seems to be a disparity between what it is showing and what it is claiming to show. It's weird and I don't understand. So that whole issue curbs my enthusiasm a bit, but... the artwork... and the sculpture itself... is astoundingly beautiful.

Sooo... Italy was amazing. Basically.

A brief note on academics before I must go to bed... It's already rather later than my bedtime...

Our semester is composed of a series of one-week courses, each taught by a different professor and tackling a different aspect of the very broad field of Cognitive Science. Thus far we have had: Intro to CogSci, Cognitive Neuroscience, Cognitive Ethology, Brain Imaging, Philosophy of Language, Cognitive Informatics, Consciousness, and now we're on Embodied Cognition.

The semester started off roughly, with professors who failed to provide texts or supportive materials, did not give very good conceptual explanations, or assumed a non-existent background in their field... but the semester has more or less steadily progressed, which is wonderful. Also, at the beginning, I was quite frustrated by the very cursory one-week structure of the semester as a whole. However, I think my opinion is starting to soften. I wouldn't say that the different classes *build* upon one another- not exactly. But there are certainly overlaps and interesting connections between different courses, and I am really enjoying the conceptual framework that is starting to build across these various sub-disciplines.

In addition to these classes, I am also taking Theories of Meaning, a philosophy of language seminar, "on the side." Much to my delight, this class has complemented my CogSci coursework and my general interests quite beautifully.

So, generally speaking, life is pretty awesome.
I am in a beautiful place with relatively easy access to other amazing and beautiful places.
I am surrounded by warm, fun, nerdy, wonderful people.
I am making connections between concepts and being introduced to seductive fields of study... What more could I possibly want?

Moreover, I feel as though, albeit very slowly and not at all clearly, I am making some sort of progress in life. I am still highly uncertain as to what I want to do, but it's becoming clear that the path I am on can probably take me to wherever I decide I want to go.

So, for now, I will just enjoy the gorgeous scenery.

A Summery Crescendo- And a Happy Belated Blogiversary!

Ah, hello lovely people!

Well. It is strange to say, but my summer is coming to a spectacular crescendo finish.
This image of my dry-erase monthly calendar, as written in on August 1st (more things have since been added) may give you an idea of how spectacular life appears right now:

I am currently in the ninth, and penultimate week of my computational chemistry research, which transitions to a Dylan-reunion in which I get to spend FIVE GLORIOUS DAYS with a most-beloved boyfriend I won't have seen in 5 months (and whom I will almost certainly not see again for another four...), only to arrive home with just enough time to bask in the light of kinship before going to BUDAPEST for a semester.
AH!

These super-exciting things are interspersed with smaller but also very exciting things-- like the happy "girls' night" which awaits me in but half an hour, a happy anniversary, a chem talk to be delivered on my research for the last nine weeks, a canoe adventure with the chem department, a celebratory dinner at my professor's house, and my last four remaining Summer Social Dance clubs! If we conveniently ignore the miserable packing process which must occur in the next ten days, the next three weeks promise virtually nonstop happiness and excitement. And, given that I then transition into a voyage to Europe...
Life is so great.
I am happy and excited.

In general, I think this summer has been a happy one. I think I have done well in life since turning twenty. Despite the suggestions of my previous post... (it was not a good day or week, and it is acceptable to have those moments of sadness and weakness) I really have done a much better job of feeling confident, worthy of love, and capable of standing alone.

In the past I have struggled tremendously with giving myself credit for anything. While I highly prize modestly and humility, I still think that it is important to give credit where credit is due-- and I have slowly been able to say, "You know what, self- I am proud of you for that. That was difficult, but you pulled through. Nicely done."

Near the end of my "Spring Quest" I mentioned that, in a way, I would be away from Home for a while. I expected year 20 to be a hard one. It's certainly not over yet, but as I reach the almost-half-point, I would say it is less of a hard one than a challenging one with great opportunity for growth. It is true that I have had moments of insecurity and loneliness and sadness. BUT those days could be counted on a hand! (Maybe two hands...) I expected to feel estranged and alone in a kind-of-exciting-but-mostly-scary foreign land.
Instead, what I see is a large number of new friends and acquaintances-- I have effectively expanded the stretch of metaphorical land that I can call "home."
I have helped create a wonderful summer social dance community filled with people I have grown exceedingly fond of, I have deepened old and developed new friendships, I have learned that I can hold a conversation with people I don't know very well and have a wonderful time without crumbling into crippling awkward-nerd-girl-awkwardness. I have gained a smidgen of culinary experience, explored the natural beauty surrounding my Carletonian home, learned that I actually kind of enjoy running (what?), discovered that piano is awesome and beautiful, become fluent in the language of zeolites, and generally partaken in wonderful growth.

There are challenges ahead, however!
I have about a year before I need to make scary decisions about life post-Carleton.
I have three months to take Europe by storm. (Yeah, life is hard...)
I have to learn to be strong and to actually communicate my thoughts to those around me.
I have to push myself to continue creeping outside my comfort zone.

I thought I wouldn't make it past the level of Slightly Slower Slug... but we're making it to Slow Swan this year!

To my very small handful of Readers, happy belated blogiversary!
Yup, this little blog has been in existence for a little over 365 days (372 to be exact).  I don't know that the blog has grown all that much... but I think that I have grown more than I expected. And I would like to thank you, rare and dear Reader, for sharing in that wonderful process with me.

I hope year two brings even more exciting challenges, adventures, and happiness.

Huzzah! Cheers!
:D

Enter that Lovely Maiden, Beauty

Hello Reader-Dearest!

The summer is now well underway.

I am now a competent Fortran-er and somewhat literate in the zeolite world.
Wait, now that I think of it, I don't think I ever mentioned what specifically I am researching this summer. Well... as specifically as it gets.

A model of  LTA, one of the zeolites
we shall be focusing on this summer. 

I am working on simulations of these lovely aluminosilicate minerals called zeolites. "Zeolite" is a fairly broad category. There are a number of different crystalline structures and zeolites can have different chemical compositions, but we're mostly dealing with silicon, oxygen, and aluminum. The cool thing is, their microporous nature makes them good molecular sieves. In particular, zeolites have been found to selectively adsorb carbon dioxide over nitrogen, hydrogen, methane, and other gases. This makes zeolites very promising materials for a number of processes, most notably carbon dioxide separation and sequestration. In the past, my professor and her students have studied pure silica zeolites (well, Si and O actually, but the key point is no aluminum) with varying structural properties, so as to examine the importance of pore structure to selective CO2 adsorption. This summer, we are going to start working on introducing aluminum into the mixture.

A structural model of MFI, another cool zeolite.

As for my own contribution... well, I only just received "the code" on Wednesday... and was immediately utterly lost in the dense network of files and the endless sea of Fortran lines contained therein. Yesterday I managed to calm some of that despair and anxiety so as to make fair progress in getting a better idea of how things fit together, but there is a very, very long way to go. However, I did submit my first few runs today! Yay! Look for more updates in the future!

I must say that, overall, I have been rather pleased with the path my summer has taken. I think I may say that I have successfully rekindled my devotion to the fair goddess, Beauty.

I cannot assure you of the existence of an omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent, benevolent God, but I can attest to the presence of this lovely maiden. I have caught glimpses of her darting swiftly between trees, and placing blossoms in flowing hair strewn over sun-kissed prairie grass; I have seen her floating serenely on the river and heard her joining in on birdsong whilst I make my way through the arboretum. I have heard her at turns laughing at me and soothing me with her song as I feebly attempt to coax music from the keys of a piano. I have seen her hand in gorgeous sunsets and clear blue skies, in giant dandelions, and in graceful, swooping little birds. I have yet to see it myself, but I have heard that she has even taken some of her beauty and placed it within tiny creatures, that they may bring light to the summer sky even when she has gone to her slumber or joined her sisters in distant lands for merrymaking.

Yes, piano adventures and arb runs have made it a lovely, beautiful summer indeed. The arb runs are unfailingly splendid- the piano, less so. But I think I have fallen in love with it nonetheless. I cringe whenever I play a false key, and I feel terribly embarrassed when I stumble over pieces like the too-familiar "Jingle Bells," but my soul begins to thrill when a piece which initially sent a series of winces shuddering through me comes together to resemble something which I may call music. Granted I can only play short and very simple pieces, but I am easily enraptured by the lovely sounds which that instrument is capable of producing when properly encouraged to do so. All in all, I am pleased with the progress I have made in two weeks of playing for about an hour a day, and I am very excited for the next seven weeks! I dare not strive for beauty, for something deep and soul-striking, but I do hope that by the end of it I can play something which may be rightly termed lovely. Nothing crazy or complicated, but still charming.

In addition to the beauty of piano and the natural wonders surrounding Carleton, I have found great pleasure in the social benefits of a Carleton summer. It is wonderful to be at Carleton, to be learning new things and challenging myself intellectually on a daily basis, and to still have time for casual hour-long chats with new acquaintances, for skype sessions with old friends, for cooking adventures, for Sayles slumber parties, for movie-watching, and for pioneering a summer social dance club. I have great hopes for this Summer Social Dance Club (hereafter to be referred to as SSDC), despite what appear to be administrative attempts to crush it. Well, not exactly. But it is very frustrating that the school insists on shutting down all of the buildings after work hours. Nonetheless, this week was very successful in bringing together new and old social dancers, and I now feel like I have dance children to teach and tend to and befriend this summer. It is very exciting! Hopefully logistics will not prove disastrous... but I have high hopes. I look forward to making friends with these new people and hopefully incorporating them into social dance culture!

In short, summer is lovely and sweet. I have been reminded that life has great potential for beauty, if I only toil faithfully to seek her out. She is a shy creature, and must be treated tenderly, but she is sweet and devoted if you patiently cultivate her friendship. I do hope that we may become fast friends.

Happy Summer, dear ones!   

On The Midpoint

Well, the second year has come to an end.

I remember old middle school days, when I felt safely sheltered from adulthood and "growing up" by the endless high school years before me... and now college is half-past.
It is a bit surreal.
The passing of time seems to have a very strange quality to it. The years seem to fly swiftly by on fairy's wings, and yet days and weeks can drag by in an impressive manner.

In the midst of this strange passing of time, I find it difficult to assess my growth. Surely I change in subtle ways between moments, days, weeks, months, years... But the gradualness of the process makes me incapable of detecting the difference.
I am reminded of when I first learned calculus. The concept of the integral made the tricky concept of life clearer to me: it is the accumulation of changes that occur on infinitesimal time scales. Decisions made from instant to instant appear so incredibly trivial and inconsequential, but the summation of the values of those instants make up a life. Magical.
It is fitting that the integral encapsulates the great, elusive concept of infinity. How do we ever reach the infinitesimal? How do we ever progress? When and where do we capture the fleeting Now? How is it that the minutes and days and years slip by?
The mysteries of life and metaphysics seem to me to be intertwined with the wonder of infinity. It is lovely.

Yet somehow the time does slip by. Somehow "life" does get accumulated between duration-less Nows. And somehow or another, I do make small bits of progress.

As the term approached its end, I came to realize that I have learned things during my time at Carleton. Shocking, right? It is the sort of thing one hopes will happen, but it is wonderful when you realize it is actually true.
There are the little things- like realizing that my knowledge of the Greek alphabet has expanded tremendously since my old high school days, where alpha and beta and pi and theta were funky things that you used in math every once in a while. By the end of Set Theory and Computational chemistry, Greek letters were being carelessly spattered all over my work. When did gamma and phi and psi and epsilon and sigma and lambda (etc etc) become a natural resource to tap into?

Additionally, I have come to realize that tossing myself into reckless situations can be a good thing.
(To clarify, "reckless" in this context refers purely to academic recklessness. Reckless, indeed...)
For the first time in my life, I had the experience of sitting in a classroom where the teacher could very well have been speaking another language, because I certainly was not understanding what she was saying. She was speaking other languages- the languages of quantum chemistry, kinetics, thermochemistry... Languages of which I only knew a few basic words. I was a tourist in a foreign country hoping to rely on words like "food" and "bathroom" for survival.
But I still remember the moment where I re-read a textbook excerpt that was being assigned for about the 4th time. And that time- I UNDERSTOOD what they were saying. Between re-readings and nearly impenetrable lectures and frustrated struggles with foreign words and concepts... the pieces eventually came together. It was a glorious realization- and it would not have been possible if I had not taken the risk of utter failure. And I shall admit, for a while there I was rather concerned.
But there is something wonderful about going in scared and mostly lost, with only a bedraggled roadmap for company, and to slowly gain your footing to ultimately emerge triumphant.
I can now tell you a story about quantum chemistry, I can model a baby protein for you, I can perform ab initio calculations and tell you a bit about a chemical system of interest- I can do quite a few things I simply could not have done ten weeks ago.

There is also the world of dance. Two years ago, I probably would have laughed and blushed with embarrassment if you were to suggest that I would find myself waltzing freely with others in a couple of months. "Ballroom dancing" was something magical, wonderful, and fundamentally unattainable to those not blessed with extraordinary grace. Admittedly, I have yet to achieve a satisfactory level of mastery, let alone claim beauty in my dancing (alas, I have not been suddenly gifted with heaps of gracefulness), but I have managed to learn a great deal during the last two years. Waltz, foxtrot, quickstep, east coast swing, west coast swing, tango, cha, rumba, samba... even some mambo and hustle and nightclub two-step... Two years ago I knew nothing, and in a few months I will have the privilege of introducing social dance to a new generation of future social dance lovers! It is terribly exciting.

I think that my understanding of things has also become more complex and subtle. Two years ago, I would probably have agreed with the somewhat vague statement that science is true. My understanding of models and scientific progress was limited. I was a naive empiricist.
I may still be a bit of an empiricist, but my appreciation for models has increased tremendously. I now value the utility of a good approximation and I understand the importance of knowing the limits within which a model can operate. I realize that there are ways in which our scientific knowledge is solidly grounded, and yet that there are more fundamental ways in which the scientific quest is deeply vulnerable to skeptic probing.

To focus on this spring, I think I can be proud of my accomplishments this term. Computational chemistry and set theory were both challenging and intimidating, but immensely rewarding. I did not expect computational chemistry to allow me to peer into the beauties of linear algebra. I remember the moment of wonder when I realized what my professor was explaining about vibrational modes- you want to understand how molecules move? Break down the motions in terms of an orthogonal basis set which will span the entire space of their motion, and now you can describe any movement your heart desires. Bam! Amazing.
I did not really expect myself to ever come to peace with quantum, but we managed to end on amicable terms. And set theory... ah, how to describe the beauty of realizing that you have built an entire world out of nothing? Or the beauty of the natural numbers, like infinite Russian dolls? Or the sheer wonder of successive limit ordinals, like dense black holes?

All in all, I am fairly proud of myself.
I do not think I have been able to say that in a very long time- I do not remember when. But I succeeded in achieving my goals for this term. No, I don't have a perfectly-filled goals chart- there are certainly a number of gaps. More importantly, I succeeded in fulfilling the aspirations underlying the carefully penned goals on my chart.

Three months ago, I was terrified: I really believed that this term was going to be painful, stressful, confidence-destroying, and unbearably lonely.
It has been painful. It has been stressful. I have been less-than-fully-confident at times. I have been lonely. These things are true. But they represent a small minority of my experiences.

I feared that I would have no great friendships during my time at Carleton, but I no longer have that fear. I have grown closer to a number of wonderful people, and planted seeds which I know shall flourish in the upcoming years.

I feared that I would sink into a pathetic fit of loneliness and moping. But I have realized that I am stronger than I believed. I do not have to fall apart when I am alone. Granted, on almost any occasion I would rather be joined by loved ones, but if I must stand alone, I can and I will.

Ironically, it has been one of my most enjoyable and fulfilling terms at Carleton.

I am still filled with fears and insecurities and doubts on a number of points. I still do not know what I shall "do" with my life. I do not know what exactly that mysterious thing called love has in store for me. I do not know what friendships shall blossom, what pains shall be suffered, what life lessons shall be gathered, nor if I shall ever attain beauty in my dancing.
But I am proud of what I have accomplished and excited for the adventures that are in store.

There is hope!
And for now, that's all I ask for.

Here's to the midpoint of my Carleton career. Huzzah!

Reader, Meet My Letter Box

Greetings, dear Reader!

It is midterm break and I am being very foolish. The prudent thing to do right now would be to go to bed... but I shall be a rebel and stay up a while longer. Ah, the luxury of having a day off!

It has been a while since I wrote a nerdy blog post, and I suspect there may be something on the wonder of natural numbers coming up soon. (I do love the natural numbers. They are so very beautiful...!)

Yay! Spring Dreams!

But that is not why I am here now.
I am here because of a burst of inspiration to briefly share some personal treasures. I snapped a few pictures of some of my trinkets- my sparrow necklace, my letter box, my wall of love, my Latin shoes, my bookshelves, and my Spring Dreams chart- which is now at the halfway point!

It is interesting that I do not seem to have very many trinkets… not exactly. But my wall of love and my letter box hold a downright treasure trove. And I really enjoy my bookshelves. Old favorite books, academic books, my writing box, a cute teacup, my bow-bedecked pinecone, the Rubik’s cube… many little wonders fill its shelves :] 

But for now I shall focus on the letters and notes and tokens of love which most brighten my days, noting before I begin that a curious and courageous reader is encouraged to inquire further into the objects introduced here.

The "wall of love"

They may not look like much, but these little mementos mean a great deal to me, and I am rather proud of my small badges of love. I want people to “see” the people that I love- the cute and clever notes from Dylan, the sincere and whimsical letters from Brynna, handmade cards from my sea-star, short and sweet notes of appreciation from Tristan, cards which once accompanied Friday flowers, postcards from friendly travelers and well-wishing friends, dried flowers (a perfectly-tinted rose from Dylan and mini-roses for my sister), an eerily well-timed post-it note found in a bathroom stall, gorgeous drawings and happy notes from Becca… It is the best thing in the world to have a wall adorned with love, and mornings are made happy by glancing up at the beautiful wall by my side.

And then there are the wonderful items stored away in the letter box. Old love letters, sketches drawn on a whim with friends, wrinkled and torn sheets recording old memories, newspaper clippings detailing my epic room draw victory last year, the absolutely ridiculous product description from the back of a package of trail mix, programs from plays once performed in, pieces of paper filled with strange math things- including a particular sheet whose corner I almost ingested to prevent prying eyes from reaching it (however, that failed, and the very wrinkled corner in question was subsequently re-taped), and a host of other cherished tokens fill this box of wonders. Each note, letter, random sheet of paper, or miscellaneous object brings me back to a time and place of happiness, be it of the somber-and-serious or playful-and-ridiculous kind.

A peak into the letter box

Each object also makes a bit more tangible the connection I have to the people I love. I think that may be why I treasure these things so greatly- and why my letters and notes tend to be so infamously lengthy. I may not have very many friends, but the ones I do have I care greatly for, and the exchange of words allows me to let them know it. My hope is that, someday, when the ones I care for find themselves lonely or frightened or unsure of themselves, my notes may do the job they were intended to perform. I hope that my friends will be able to gather the words given to them with sincerity and affection, and to see that they are amazing, accomplished creatures deserving of (and in possession of) love. I know that their kind words and the records I have kept of old happy times spent in their company have certainly brightened my spirits on a number of occasions.

So, my dear Reader, know that your kindness, your smiles, and your words are remembered and cherished. Know that somewhere, someone who loves you carries those gifts you have given them in their own treasure chest.

Goodness, isn't that beautiful?

At any rate, I think so.

On J.K. Rowling, Success, and What-the-hell-am-I-going-to-do-with-my-life?

Every now and then I am struck by a harrowing pang of bewilderment. 

(That is to say, I peek at the tangled mess which is the what-am-I-to-do-with-my-life question, and wonder how in the world I shall ever set about undoing the hideous knots and imposing an acceptable degree of order upon my "adult" life.)

Today I spent a good bit of time pursuing miscellaneous activities, and in the process I did manage to strike a bit of gold. Apparently J.K. Rowling gave Harvard's Commencement address two years ago.

I found her address delightful and inspiring and exceedingly relevant. I have always felt that Rowling must be a wonderful creature to be able to write the profound, life-shaping passages found in her books, and hearing her speak only reinforced this belief. I tend to credit Montgomery, Alcott, and Pierce for most of my childhood-shaping, but Rowling (and Hugo!) certainly deserve to be up there. The Harry Potter books brought me to tears of laughter and sorrow on many an occasion. (Yes, maybe Harry was a little dramatic in book five, but I'm certain I shed tears of rage and mourning right along with him, as he sent Dumbledore's possessions to a crashing end in a senseless effort to protest Sirius' death.) 

There are certain things that set my heart ablaze. 

One such thing is the pure friendship embodied in the Harry Potter books- having people of virtue and integrity willing to risk their lives for love of one another. There is something incredibly beautiful in the friendship between Harry, Ron, and Hermione- but not just them. The Weasleys, Lupin, Hagrid, Sirius (to Wormtail, "You should have died! Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!"),  Dumbledore... there's so much of loyalty and love that permeates their actions.

Another (related) is Harry's realization in Half-Blood Prince that he is in control of his fate, despite the prophecy.
[Oh dang. Things just got serious. I strode to my bookshelf, pulled out book six, and turned to chapter 23.]  There are a good four pages worth of quote-worthy material at the end of that chapter, possibly my favorite conversation of the series. Yep, it's quote-time. (But not four pages' worth.)

(Dumbledore is trying to persuade Harry that the prophecy is virtually irrelevant. Harry isn't getting it.)

"But-"

“It is essential that you understand this!” said Dumbledore, standing up and striding about the room, his glittering robes swooshing in his wake…. “By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me, and gave him the tools for the job! …And yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort’s world…. You have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort’s followers!”

“Of course I haven’t!” said Harry indignantly. “He killed my mum and dad!”

“You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!” said Dumbledore loudly.

….

“But, sir… it all comes to the same thing doesn’t it? I’ve got to kill him, or- ”

“Got to?” said Dumbledore. “Of course you’ve got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you’ve tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment, that you had never heard that prophecy. How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!”

Harry watched Dumbledore striding up and down in front of him, and thought. He thought of his mother, his father, and Sirius. He thought of Cedric Diggory. He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside his chest, searing his throat.

“I’d want him finished,” said Harry quietly. “And I’d want to do it.”

“Of course you would!” cried Dumbledore. “You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal… In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you… which makes it certain, really, that-"

“That one of us is going to end up killing the other,” said Harry. “Yes.”

But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew- and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents- that there was all the difference in the world.

Let us pause for a moment and allow that to soak in.

So, my point. My point is, Harry Potter invigorated my stubborn resolution to prize love as the most beautiful and empowering and noble of human actions.
The love of Anne Shirley (Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables) is light-hearted and uplifting (I dream of being an Anne-ish friend, teacher, and mother), but, though I do not doubt its resilience, it is unmarked by the suffering which is the unique product of gross injustice. Harry Potter adds so much in the way of silent strength and poignancy. The love of that world is love in the face of murder and torture, fear and anguish. It is daring to hold on to beauty and hope in the face of those who would rip all goodness from the world. It is what we would die for- but, more importantly,  it is the love that we live for.
Oh, Harry Potter! J.K. Rowling is a kindred spirit. Definitely.

What I was going to say... before delving into the Harry Potter portion of my soul... was that Rowling seems to understand my feelings concerning life/success/failure perfectly.
Coming from parents with an "impoverished" background with serious concerns about the practicality of their dreamy daughter's desires for life... Hmmm... I think that sounds a bit too familiar. [I also definitely appreciated the part where she said her parents may not have found out she was studying Classics until the day of her graduation. I have certainly been tempted to do just that (only with philosophy, of course).]
I always enjoy the rants which follow any mention of my latest philosophy class, complete with heated claims that philosophy is for those not good enough to do science or mathematics, bleak predictions of future joblessness and subsequent starvation, sour threats to retract all forms of parental support in the case that I nevertheless insist on pursuing such a foolish life-path, and other forms of, generally speaking, overwhelming support for the notion of a philosopher daughter. It's encouraging, really.

But, like Rowling, I understand my parents' perspective. Okay, maybe I don't fully understand their viewpoint, but when I can step back from the stinging sensation in my chest, it's evident that what they want is for me to move forward in life. They want me to be able to provide for myself, and, moreover, to flourish.

Now perhaps this is simply my trying to be philosophical, but that last statement seems to introduce a desperate need for a definition. What in the world does it mean to "flourish"? What is my standard for success?

For my parents, wealth is an obvious component in this calculation. [Points against philosophy.]
For myself... Don't get me wrong, it's tempting to adopt that as a criteria, but I'm not sure that riches really get to the heart of my desires. I don't care about flashy cars or mansions or pointless displays of opulence.

Current requirements for my "house of dreams" are a lovely garden, enough space for a happy family, general freshness/quaintness/cuteness, and an awesome library.
(Admittedly, I would be willing to put a good deal of money into that last one.)
I want a career that is intellectually demanding, rewarding, and conducive to forming meaningful relationships or human connections.
I want to do work that has a positive impact in terms of improving the lives of others or contributing to justice.
I want to contribute to the beauty of the world.
I want to be a confidante and mentor.
I want to be a loving (and beloved) wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend.
I want to be a life-long lover of ideas.

The question is... how do I find the connection between my standard of success and selecting a clear career path? Would I do best in education or medicine? Should I teach, counsel, provide therapy, or practice general medicine? Is it justifiable to spend a life writing papers when I could help someone regain the ability to walk or speak, or help provide care to the millions dying of malaria, AIDS, or other diseases? But surely an educator plays a crucial role in the way of fortifying and enlightening minds!
What would I be best at? What would make me happiest? What would bring me the most success?

Nope, I still have no idea how to untangle the ugly mess. All of this...to no avail.
I find myself hoping that, slowly, things will be made clear and the knots will ease up a bit. Somewhat magically, relatively painlessly, and swiftly enough that I evade the failure I so greatly wish to avoid.

I'm reminded of when I complained to my friend that I had no idea what I was going to do with my life.
And she (Brynna) would have none of it. "You're going to be happy, that's what you're going to do."
But, but, but!- I wanted to protest.

...Somehow, I'm thinking she's right.

People-watching: awesome. People: cool. Annette? Strange.

There’s something intriguing about coming across another person’s writing.
When a friend lends me a book to read, I secretly hope that there will be a few markings in the pages- be they underlined words or exclamation marks in the margins or reactions penciled in alongside provocative paragraphs- or a small scrap of paper, once tucked in between pages and then forgotten, containing some enigmatic set of words… a shopping list? The records of a vaguely remembered dream? The corner of an old homework assignment?  (Once I did come across the remnants of an almost-forgotten dream, and it brought me no end of delight to puzzle over the bizarre fragments!)
Those few words, those markings, offer me a strange insight into the mind of the writer. Perhaps I do not receive enough information to understand the thoughts of that far-off moment, but the glimpse is fascinating.

A short way down my block there is an abandoned house, and every time I pass by it I recall my girlish fantasy. I imagine myself peering in through the partially-curtained window of the front door, hesitating for a moment, and then trying the door. The door would open quietly, and I would slip into the old house just as noiselessly. I would find myself inside a homey kitchen, faded but still charming, still filled with the spirit of meals prepared and shared lovingly. Then I would come to a table-- a relatively small, circular, iron-wrought table--  and there! There I would find a priceless, romantic treasure: a collection of journals penned by a lovely maiden.
After this point the dream isn’t very firmly set. Certainly, I read the journals and became very attached to the authoress. But I wasn’t sure whether I ever pursued this maiden, and if so whether we became dear friends. Or perhaps she had long since grown old (perhaps even died). Or perhaps she was nameless and never to be found.

Perhaps I was a strange child… (Er, am a strange child?)

Generally speaking, I love listening to people… perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I love catching soul-glimpses.

 I enjoy overhearing tidbits of the conversations of people in line at the grocery store. When sipping coffee thoughtfully at a coffeehouse, I love observing my fellow coffee-consumers and wondering what thoughts are going through their heads, why they brought themselves to drink coffee at that particular hour of that particular day… in that particular place. I love listening to people talk about what really matters to them; I may not be very good at “small talk” (I suspect I am too awkward), but I will listen to someone express their honest thoughts with the most sincere interest.

Once in a while a friend of mine will grant me a rather interesting opportunity to catch a glimpse of their soul: they will recommend (or gift) me a favorite book (or some other “favorite” which contains captured ideas), expressing their closeness to a particular character, or mentioning that the ideas presented within the book impacted them tremendously.   

Suddenly this book acquires double significance- not only do I get to explore the thoughts of its characters (wonderful in itself), but I am able to explore my friend’s perspective. I will find myself smiling because I am reminded of my friend when that particular character says or does something, or I will find myself slowly reading interesting passages and wondering what my friend thought as he or she read them…what did they think of this? How did this change them? And sometimes past conversations will become much clearer- things previously only partially understood, or even misunderstood, will suddenly fall into place.

Sometimes I will discover fascinating things about people I hardly know. Sometimes I will discover fascinating things about people I know very well. Sometimes I am brave enough to tell these people- you are interesting, and surprising, and I appreciate you. But often I am not, and I am thinking that should change. I can think of a great number of people whom I admire and respect and would love to learn more about, yet who have no idea that this is the case because I fear they might find it strange that I bother to remember the little interesting things I discover about them.

So, a challenge: write someone a note expressing your appreciation.
No, really. Pause for a moment. Think of at least one cool person whom you know. Now think for a moment. Why are they cool?

Now go tell ‘em.