Memories

they give us something to focus on through boredom and keep us laughing when we get together with friends from our past lives. Memories link us to the selves we once were and the selves we have become. And yet, there are those memories--the ones we never speak of, even though they are always on our minds--the ones that keep us awake at night and leave us, at our most vulnerable hours, in tears.

Yes, I'm talking about memories of the heart.

The power these memories have over us must come from the raw emotion they contain and also from the walls we carefully build around them. But the very potency of such memories stem from fact that they were once true events we experienced, events that we can not move past--events we cling to because in the deepest recesses of our heart, we wish they were not merely memories, but fact--not merely forgotten truths but present moments, able to be relived not only in the security of our minds but in the reality of our world.

Such memories could be as simple as a night of fun and laughter with friends no longer a part of our lives, or as complicated and heart-wrenching as a love that is no longer a possibility.

And how do we move on?

Well, i guess that's the thing about time. whether we are willing or not, it marches onward--and we? well, by merely checking the clock we are willing participants in its construction and continuation.

After all, they say time heals all wounds.

I suppose all i can say with certainty right now is that memories are a refuge, not for the weak, but for those reluctant to give up hope. But hopefully someday those of us with even the most sentimental of hearts can move beyond the refuges of the past and into the truth of the present--fondly remembering where we are from and acknowledging to our inner most consciousness that there is always more to come, that there are always new memories to be made.

my grandmother's hands are wrinkled and wise

experience can be traced along every line

and strength can be seen in her hands lying still

now clasped for eternity, warding off further ill

my grandmother's hands so translucent and thin

i gently brush up against her cold skin

trying to grasp and hold on to something akin

to her beautiful presence once held within

my grandmother's hands have held both life and death

and now that she has taken her last breath

i can only imagine the peace she can feel--

her mortal pain has forever been healed.

bullseye.

The shooting range here in town is different than i thought it would be. it's not cold and militaristic, there aren't NRA posters everywhere and I have yet to see any sort of taxidermied animal hanging out. There's even a woman elected as one of the club's officers! Everyone is asked to clean up after themselves, and it's kept fairly tidy--considering that it's really just a big 'boy's club'. And usually there's only one or two people in there at a time, I guess the people that go there aren't really looking for company and they usually leave if another person comes in to shoot. In fact, if it weren't for the frequent sounds of gunfire it could be considered a nice place to get away and just . . . think. Which, is kinda a funny thing for me to admit because i tend to view violence in any form (even just practising it) as a mindless act--unless, i suppose, you're an assassin . . . but that's a whole 'nother issue.

I can't say that i like shooting a gun, or that i'm any good at it, (i seem to anticipate the kick too much) but i do manage to hit the target a good 65% of the time and I even get off a lucky shot every once in a while. bullseye.

i guess as happens with every new experience, i learned something about myself by going to the shooting range. i'm fairly confident that if i'm ever in the situation i'll have a very hard time shooting at a living being (i have a hard enough time shooting at the human shaped target!), and while i appreciate those who serve in our military and understand the necessity for upholding the 2nd amendment (as long as the firearm is used appropriately and respectfully), i think i might be tending more and more towards pacifism as a personal philosophy--which, is a fairly big step considering my family's long standing tradition of being in the military. Yes, this is what i learned about myself by going to the shooting range: i'm slowly turning into a leftist hippie--or maybe i've really just been one all along.

I also realized that listening to classical music on your ipod during target practise will not only be an odd juxtaposition, it will probably make you feel like a superhero villain . . .

but maybe that's just me.

YES.

11 months from now. it's a long time to wait. it's when the program I've been nominated for begins.

As long as I make it past this final review stage and all my medical and dental forms come back clean, in June 2011 I'll be setting off on what may become the biggest story of my life.

sub sahara Africa.

secondary science education.

11 months is a long time to wait for 27 months of service to begin, especially when you're as impatient of a person as i am.

is it worth it? that's the question everyone around me seems to be asking me.

psh. in my mind, there's no question about that.

the graduate.

I had a realization today as I was cleaning out my lab space, labeling the last bits of my synthesized compound, soaking in my last moments in my research advisor's lab: i'm giving all of this up. Science has been my academic passion and life for the past 8 years if not more and now, with my decision to explore the world of humanitarian works and non-profit businesses, with that one choice, I've effectively turned my back on science. Perhaps not for forever, but at least definitely for now. and I'm not really sure how I feel about that yet.

hello stranger.

it's been awhile. i haven't really felt like writing and, let's be honest with each other--we both know i'm really not much of a blogger. But for some reason, sitting here in the library trying desperately to get all my science knowledge sorted for my comprehensive exams with my upcoming recital, presentations, thesis defense, class projects, papers, responsibilities, and triathlon ever present in the back of my mind I couldn't help but feel the need to at least wrap up part of my past life and move on to the one i'm currently living.

This blog was started to let the people i left behind in the States in on my adventures abroad, and while I have a whole 5 week holiday and entire last term of Cambridge that I didn't cover--if you're reading this blog you probably know me personally, and I would love to tell you about my travel stories and last term in person sometime. I went from Romania to Turkey, over to Greece, Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Venice, Germany and hit up some old friends in Utrecht. I met amazing people, spent some time in a greek hospital, had every form of identification i had on me stolen, got kicked off a trolley by some old ladies, spent 3 1/2 days with no cash, and no way to get cash . . . oh yes, I have stories galore, and that's just from my 5 week holiday. As for my last term at Cambridge? bittersweet as any glorious memory could ever be. I explored England further, almost went skydiving (made it to the plane and everything--it was just too windy), stayed in an English cottage, had my passport destroyed by a washing machine, got my 3rd passport in 7 months, spent a straight 21 hours on an unforgettable train-ride, broke down in front of my neuro supervisor while taking my final MCQ (those cambridge tests are hard!), and learned quite a bit about myself along the way. Smiles were had, tears were shed, and some memories I'll carry in my heart forever.

My year abroad? epic success. I can honestly say I'm a better person for having had the experiences I did, and I crammed a whole lot of story collecting into those 11 months.

but now i'm back. and, I've been back since mid june 2009. It wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but I'm finally at a point where internally I'm pretty much back to normal, changed for the better.

Obviously this blog is no longer about my time abroad, but i think it's about time I start story collecting on this side of the pond . . . maybe after graduation :-)

where to start?! northern Ireland, of course!

sooooo . . . it's June now. Woah. I've done sooo much since my last post almost 3 months ago, i don't know where to start! quick overview of the first weekend--i did my first ever solo travel to Northern Ireland! i was on a quest to find the IRA, against the advice of my parents of course, but all I found were remnants and graffiti. It was still cool though, and everyone that i met was so nice, Irish hospitality almost rivaled Norway. Almost.

I saw someone getting arrested! and i happen to think most european police cars are funny looking. This one was in Belfast.

This was a kind of creepy plaque erected by the IRA, "Let our revenge be the laughter of our children" Yea, it still kind of creeps me out.

This is the coolest picture I took. Ok, so maybe i'm a bit obsessed with the political atmosphere of the place, but it was really cool. This was in Derry.

When in Ireland . . .

This corner of the wall is probably my favorite spot in Derry, I was by myself, and not really hungry yet, so I decided to get a book from the bookstore and just sit outside and read. It was a gorgeous day, and since Derry is a walled city (the only one still standing in the UK!) I just got ontop of the wall and found a nice corner to lean against for a couple of hours. Wonderful.

There were murals like this all over--painted by this group of people called the Bogside Artists, I actually met one of them when I was trying to find the Museum of Free Derry. I think there were 12 murals in all, each on a different building in a 2 block radius.

I really enjoyed my solo trip, even though I was glad to meet up with my friends just 3 days later. It's interesting seeing all these historical and meaningful things that you want to talk to someone about, but not really having anyone there to talk to. I would see something and want to point and say, "Oooh! Look!" but, it was just me, wondering around the city. I'm glad I had the experience, and I'm sure i'll travel by myself again someday, but especially because I was in a place like Northern Ireland that has the kind of past which encourages discussion, it made me really appreciate having friends to travel with if I need one. But I would say solo travel is a necessity for everyone, even if you just take a weekend to do it.

I'll try to post more about my spring adventures . . . there are quite a few! I leave Cambridge for good in 14 days, can't believe it's almost done--but i'll write more on that later, it probably deserves it's own slot anyway :)