The Good List (No. 01)

Recently, I became acquainted with The Good List. Used mostly for Instagram and other social media sites, The Good List is a way of sharing what you are grateful for, as well as thing things that make you happy. The first time I tried to create such a list, I stared a blank note screen for a long time. Embarrassed with myself, I learned that I need to become more grateful. However, I did eventually come up with a Good List. Here it is.

Graduated to Normalcy. I finally became a normal person and graduated from a bulky slide phone to an iPhone SE. I’m only several years behind, but it’s never too late to join, right? I got this Spigen phone case, and I can’t wait to try it my new phone to its full extent.

Two Finals Left. I have filled out more bubble sheets than I care to think about. Knowing I only have two more tests brings summer fever to my soul.

Brick Oven Birthdays. Pasta, salad, and pizza. Family chatting. Wide booths with homemade root beer and low light. Singing “Happy Birthday” to my brother with the servers. Brick Oven is the perfect place for any birthday.

We Were Liars. I wept at the end of this book. If you like beautifully written, mysterious, soul-searching books with major plot twists and emotion, this is the book for you.

Design for Mankind. I adore this blog. Most of my inspiration comes from Erin, the writer. Her writing is smooth, eloquent, and she includes tips and advice for everyday life. Check her out.

Warm Spring Rain. Who else do we have to thank for turning the grass and trees green and growing wild tulips in the yard?

This is my Good List. What’s yours?

Dead Cadavers and Star Deaths

As finals draw near, and inevitably bring with it long days of studying and short nights of sleeping, I need more simplicity in my life. Who am I to talk about simplicity though? Me, who never has a dull day where I sit around and read books. Sounds too good to be true.

For the next two weeks, I will be studying until cerebral brain matter pours out my auditory canals (thanks Anatomy lab) while dreaming about sitting outside and reading books. I will be dreaming about simplicity.

My daily study schedule for finals looks something like this:

Anatomy Lab: 4-6 hours. Poke at dead cadavers until the stench of formaldehyde permanently stains my clothes and hair.

Anatomy Lecture: 3 hours. Look at pictures of dissected kidneys and memorize functions of various physiological systems.

Astronomy: 1-2 hours. Memorize patterns of star deaths, unique characteristics of our planets, and apply Einstein’s laws to black holes. Don’t forget about dark matter.

Psychology: 1 hour. Don’t worry. The professor will list every single question on the test for your study guide. Pretend to memorize it.

Studies in Literature: 2 hours. Finish that eight-page paper about the influence of loss shown in books Salt to the Sea and Once was Lost (I personally recommend Salt to the Sea).

Foundations of the Restoration: 2 hours. Fill out study guide and review stories about Joseph Smith and the doctrines of the Restoration.

And through it all, cerebral brain matter will be pouring out of my auditory canals. Yay for finals.

There is something that is getting me through, though. My secret? Reading words.

Even with all the things piling up, I find joy in reading the words of others – fiction or not. Right now, it’s Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. I find five minutes here, half an hour there, and allow myself to get lost.

When I read, I forget about the dead cadavers and star deaths. Einstein’s laws didn’t matter at that moment – only the feeling of dry pages between my fingers and the rhythm of words in my mind. It turns into lovely opportunity to explore, feel, and discover. I am happy.

I have found that there is hope and simplicity in doing the things we love. That is the secret.

That being said, please excuse me while I go back to spend more time with my friends, the dead cadavers. To find me, follow the stench of formaldehyde, the trail of cerebral brain matter pouring out my ears, or the sounds of pages turning. It shouldn’t be hard.

Loss is a Monster

Loss is a monster. I was attacked by it just last week. A single earring Nathan bought me for my birthday, part of the pair that I wore on my wedding day, is gone, gone gone.

Loss is a monster.

Unfortunately, life has much loss. There are days you lose the simple things: car keys, a tooth, an earring, an Extra pack of gum.

And then there are other days. Days that are hopefully more rare. You lose a lot more. People. Prized possessions. Money. Love. Hope.

We still survive somehow.

Even though Loss is a monster.

Months ago, after enduring a painfully dry high school graduation, I packed the family minivan with a shoe rack, some large boxes, and a couple of huge canvas bags of clothes. I left the safety and security of my family’s home for a new life ten miles north.

As my family and I hauled my goods to a new third floor apartment, I stared around my empty room. I wondered if it would feel like home.

The next day was orientation. Sparkly new college freshman, neatly organized into groups, followed seasoned college students around like puppies – bounding around the grounds, yapping questions, and slobbering over Snicker Doodle Ice Cream.

I felt alone.

I kept silent, following my leaders, barely interested and somewhat uncomfortable with so many bounding, yapping, slobbering puppies. They were too happy. Too excited. Too at home.

I was lost.

However painful that orientation was, a few friends were made – a few places discovered – a new life initiated. Security once lost was gradually gained over many weeks of roommate baking parties, running and exploring the streets of Provo, and failing Chemistry tests.

It all worked out, and was precisely for my benefit.

When life fills us with loss and depleted hope, it’s hard to remember outcomes or the benefits. I stress, I eat too many cookies, I don’t eat at all, I stare out the window at a listless world, I get lost in myself.

But maybe,
the monster can be conquered.

To me, loss doesn’t mean shutting others out, thinking your life has no meaning, or letting it weigh you down. It doesn’t mean forgetting what’s important. It means taking some time for yourself to heal, figuring out what makes you happy, creating opportunities to help others, and gaining strength from this loss to be prepared for the future.

It’s understanding that it’s okay to be sad. But it’s okay to be happy too.

I’ve been lucky enough to avoid catastrophic losses in my life. However, we all feel the effects of loss. I felt the effect of loss when it took my beautiful silver earring. It fell out of my ear and right into the toilet as I flushed. That earring was the first birthday gift from my husband Nathan, part of a pair that I wore on my wedding day – something I won’t ever get back.

Even though I mourned the loss of a prized possession, I am okay now. I listened to the wise words of Nathan as he hugged me: “At least you have the other earring!”

Loss is a monster. But it can be conquered in the triumph of happiness and gratitude.