Egg Timer

I have been cleaning out my grandma's apartment since she passed away almost a month ago. Going through her things has been extremely difficult. At first, my mom was there with me. We would go through things for awhile, then hit a wall and have to stop. Regardless, there was very little crying, we were on a mission to get things done. It has been that way, even after my mom left. I can't stop to think about the things I am doing to my grandma's home that she meticulously arranged. As I have been dividing things up, I try to determine what best suits which family member. Many things, I cannot bear to let go of, yet. While my mom was still here helping, we were going through things in her kitchen. My grandma had three egg timers with the sand inside them. My mom asked if I wanted any of them and I told her just the one that gets clogged.

We continued cleaning things out, sharing stories here and there about things in the house that we remember and stories that those things reminded us of. We tried to avoid talking about Grandma being gone permanently. Frequently we talked about how it was hard to just keep going through everything without her.

After a few hours, we were finally packing up those egg timers. My mom asked me why I wanted the one that didn't work properly. I told her the same reason that I have loved that egg timer for years, "Because time stops."

I feel like that's what I need sometimes. I need time to stop. I need time to take a break so that I can take a break and not feel like I am wasting time. It goes so quickly, but to where? What happens to time after it is gone? Does it go to the same place we go when we are gone? I picture it just slipping away like a silvery whisp, as unattainable and untouchable as the souls that leave bodies behind. We cannot keep track of time, it keeps track of us. Is it sad because it is constantly going somewhere never to return or is it wiser because it keeps moving forward, never stopping? Right now, I still stare at the timer that is stuck about halfway through.

Personal Statement

I have had a number of different ideas for my personal statement for law school applications but can't seem to put any of them on paper without thinking, "there's more to me than what is in that statement." How to I write a statement about how I learned to not be a victim of circumstance without sounding heartless? Can I throw in that I'm also the girl who saves kittens out of gutters and stops in the ghetto for a lost dog with a collar and call their owner?

How do I write a statement about how mock trial helped to show me leadership and also include how I was captain of teams in high school and a supervisor at work?

How do I write a statement about overcoming hardship when there's a C and a W on my college transcript the semester my dad died? "Hey, at least I didn't drop out" does not quite seem fitting.

How am I supposed to tell anyone in two pages that my dream is to go to a good law school, get a good education, prosecute criminals, understand the justice system, then do my best to help those who are victims? How to I tell a school in just two pages that my passion is standing in front of people who are judging every word I say and knowing that I am saying it in a way that will make me victorious? How do I tell a school that my just above average LSAT score does not reflect how much I will focus on being a law student? How do I tell that school that my college GPA is not as stellar as my high school GPA because I worked, I loved my job, I loved my friends, and I chose to participate in life in addition to academics.

How do I tell an admissions counselor who doesn't get to meet me that since 7th grade, I have wanted to be an attorney. How is it that I can have any amount of time in front of a jury to plead a case but I get two pages to tell someone why I should be able to follow my dream? How do I tell them that, if accepted, I will make it my mission to be the prosecutor who helps to put a huge name behind bars and who makes new policies to allow victims rights and to aid in their hardships. How do I tell a school that I will succeed, without a doubt, at whatever I set my mind to.

Perhaps I should tell them my goal is to be filthy rich and give gobs of money to whichever school admitted me first.

What a pain.

Free Write 1 - The Smell of Air In Winter

I grew up in Iowa, perhaps for more of my life than I would like to admit. Winter overtakes life in Iowa. Memories both bad and good come with every first snowfall: building tunnels and snowmen and forts, barefoot running to meet Michael in Iowa for the first time, frostbite after my first snowball fight when I was young.

In Iowa, the cold is dry, very different from where I call home now. The cold burns my nostrils and lungs when I first step outside. The air is crisp and clean and healthy, much different than the muggy mosquito summers in the same place.

The air in winter smells new. Then, quickly, I tire of summer and spend my time inside where the winter air smells like pine, hot cocoa, chili, and M&M cookies. As much as I hate winter, so many of my good childhood memories revolve around the snow. Even some of my great adult memories revolve around the snow. Maybe, as much as I have convinced myself to hate the cold, there really is a magic to that fresh winter air that allows beauty to endure in death and my five year old self to exclaim, "Look, Mommy, there's diamonds in the snow!"

Why I NEED a GPS for my birthday.

I get lost everywhere I go. If I have not driven there before by myself, I will, inevitably, get lost. For example, last week, I went over to my family members' house. On the way home, I took the interstate going the wrong direction. I thought, for some reason, that South was the way I was supposed to go but, I realized as the "Int'l Boarder" signs increased in frequency and lessened in milage posts, I was going the wrong direction. Tonight, coming home from the same family members' house, I knew not to take that highway, but I had forgotten to check the best way to get home. So, I headed in the direction I knew the freeway was and just thought I would go a bit further to find the Northbound freeway. I, instead, approached a "Do Not Enter" sign posted on the road that would take me any further. My options were to take a left turn into the scary residential area that I had no clue about or take the same Southbound freeway I took last time. I took the Southbound freeway deciding I would just turn around at the next exit. The next exit was another freeway, going in the wrong direction (at least I recognized it this time, though and did not take it). The following exit approached and I was going to take it when I saw another freeway, going in the right direction! I took that and ended up on my way home. This would not be such a big deal had I not spent an hour yesterday trying to find a street to get me out of a very traffic filled town, an extra 20 min a week ago taking what was apparently (my boyfriend informed me) "the loooooong way home," or a panic filled 15 min last Christmas season in a scary part of town trying to take my little cousins for ice cream and a merry-go-round ride. At least I still have Iowa license plates and people just see me as the annoying tourist and not the incompetent local.

Evening As A Waitress

Last night, a table asked me about my heritage. After telling them my main ingredients, one of the men said, "So, you are not Yugoslavian?"

"No," I replied, "Not that I am aware of."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Oh, because you look very Yugoslavian. We all were convinced that you were."

"Are you sure? Because I think I probably look very confused."

Also, another table later in the night asked me about where I came from and I told them my story of beginning in California (starting off not so great with the comment, "I was born here when I was younger.") and growing up in Iowa. One of the women was so excited that I was from Iowa, she told me, "That's awesome! I always heard that Iowa was one of those mythical states that you hear exists but you never actually meet anyone that has been to Iowa much less is from Iowa." I told her, "Yes, it exists, believe me. I have tried to wish it away many times, but alas, it lives on. Maybe the people that go to visit it just get lost in the corn fields and never come out."

I Graduated!

Originally posted 4/23/11 on Grinnellplans.com

Well, today's the day. I should be getting a goodnight sleep before I face family in the morning. I should be dreaming peacefully and all that good stuff before I walk across the stage all sleepy-eyed instead of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (like the great Grinnell Squirrels that will undoubtedly join an outdoor commencement ceremony). But, here I am, not sleeping. Wide awake. I still have a few things in my room to clear out, but that will get done after the ceremony. I don't think the concept of graduation has really hit me. I will drive out of Grinnell tomorrow the proud owner of a brand new bachelor's degree. What does that mean? To me it's kind of like getting my high school diploma. I always knew I'd get it eventually and it's really just a means to an end. I want to go to law school. I know what I am doing next year, and none of it requires having an English degree. I'm not sure I feel the accomplishment involved in getting this. Maybe that means I didn't work hard enough. Maybe it was too hard and my mind can't comprehend relief. I chose English because I liked it and I like the professors. I love to read and write. I love paper and pens and books and bookstores. I have literally gone into Barnes and Noble for stationary (which is right by the entrance) and walked out three hours later. In fact, I spent the last hour trying to figure out how best to spend my newly acquired Barnes and Noble gift card. I haven't done anything yet because I am not sure of my choices. It's an important decision. So many people have told me they could never complete an English major. I don't see how that's possible. It would have been hard for me to not complete and English major. I wanted to be a psych major, but had to work so I didn't have time for the labs. I had already taken 4 English classes by the end of my first year. I had stacks and stacks of books everywhere in my dorm and at home. I have a thousand journals, all half filled. It was the logical choice and I enjoyed it. I even loved most of the classes I took. I had some crazy visiting profs, but learned from each of them things that weren't exactly English major relevant, (such as the importance of Vitamin B, or the disaster that is someone who has no idea what women's studies entails and applying it to every short story) but interesting none the less. So, I'm not sure why this English major matters, or why this Bachelor's degree seems like another piece of paper to stick in a drawer, but I know it was the right process for me to go through. Sometimes I think, what if I had been a psych major or taken a bio class? I loved science in high school. The thing is though, I really believe studying those things more would have taken away from how much I enjoyed them in high school and perhaps my wonder about the world that I enjoy. Studying English only helped me to deepen my appreciation for the subject and wonder at the possibilities. No, I didn't push myself as hard as I should have, but I had a good time. I had a job, I had a life, and I had school. And now, I guess, I have a Bachelor's degree in English. Whatever that means.

Something I Love

While I do find waterfalls and bridges interesting and entertaining, what I really love is photography. I love being able to capture a moment as I see it, overcome the difficulties of technology making something NOT as I see it, and producing something that is again, what I saw. I like that photography preserves memories but also helps to recall other's memories. For example, you may not have ever been to this waterfall that I took a photo of in Oregon, but that does not mean that it doesn't draw up any memory or feeling for you. I think photography is a pure art. There is a lot you can do now with digital photography and what not, but if you stick to the basics, it's all about what you see in the places around you and how you portray those places to other people. What angle struck you? How is this different from the angles that strike others? Photography is also so relaxing and makes you look at the details of life rather than just the big picture because it's the details that make the big picture so amazing.