Bees must have amazing self-confidence

Here it is, March on the prairie,

An improvement on February,

When daylight enlarges,

Inspire, recharges

Our spritis. Beautifully. Very.

- Garrison Keillor

Though it's sad to see the snow melt, and the skis go back into the closet for another 8 months, I do love spring. Actually, I love summer; therefore I love spring.

The indicator for spring (for me) is all the bugs! The perfect peace and tranquility of winter is suddenly burst by a zillion bugs humming in my ears. Bugs probably should have been left out of the Creation, but I'm not God.

I snapped these pictures while waiting for the bus (yet again) and really could only think of one thing: Bees must have incredible self-confidence. They spend most of their time with just their butts hanging out of the flowers. Good for them!

Couple’s Therapy

I spend A LOT of time with the public transit system, chilling at bus stops, chilling on the bus, and just chilling with the bus in general. In fact, I would say that we have a fairly intimate relationship, PT and I. But our relationship is stagnant; we're not progressing anymore. I feel like we're in a rut, a routine that we can't get out of. We don't communicate like we used to. We just don't have fun together anymore.

Now the question is this: is our relationship going to last? Is it worth working on? Can I really see myself with public transportation 10 years from now?

YES!

I need to spice things up a bit. You know, bring back memories of the old times, the good times. What first attracted me to PT? What do I still love about PT? What's good about our relationship that I can focus on?

Ok, so there aren't really any old, good times. BUT, PT gives me a well-deserved break in my day, and, sometimes, even the highly sought after nap. And, PT is cheap. No, not like a hooker, more like someone who's low-maintenance.

I do love PT, I really do! Even with its frailties and flaws, its defects and deficiencies. PT and I will be together forever.

Oh yeah, here's some pictures that I took at the bus stop, though you can't tell. I don't want to display PT's imperfections to the whole internet!

This is the Hummer that lives down the street from me:

This is the sticker that lives on the bumper of the Hummer that lives down the street from me:

This is the expression that lives on my face when I see the sticker that lives on the bumper of the Hummer that lives down the street from me:

(It's a funny picture, but I really like the framing and couldn't seem to reproduce it with an acceptable expression)

Speaking of…

What better way to mix up my day than the random llamas in the middle of campus? Yes, you read correctly, I found these little surprises on my way to physics as if they were waiting just for me.

The rest of my day was rather ordinary. I didn't even take a picture of anything else (except for my lab apparatus set-up which doesn't count cause it's for school). I'm still waiting for something exciting to happen. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion that excitement is rather similar to happiness.

On an unrelated note, how long is the average lifespan of a fly? There's been one buzzing around my room for a few days now; I can't wait for it to die so I can stop shooing it away from my face.

The Same Little Things

Every morning I get up and commence my morning routine. I have to. If I don’t, I’m late for school.

Having been diagnosed with ADD in high school, I’ve incorporated “coping techniques” into my life, one of which is a routine. The downside to a routine is that there’s nothing new about it… ever.

I know what you’re thinking: That’s kind of the point.

But I don’t just have a morning routine; I have a daily, weekly, and semester-ly routine. Though I don’t mind a little monotony here and there, a whole life of it can be exhausting!

No more!! I declare. I am breaking free! I will no longer be a slave to my routine… merely a hired servant.

Unfortunately, I still have to do homework, and go to work, and of course there’s the matter of hygiene. Therefore, I vow to see my routine in a different way. The little things, if you will, of my life that normally get passed up or go unnoticed.

Day one: The little bit of color that I noticed today:

The Reason Why I am Terrible at Video Games

Imagine that you are 7 years old again. What did you want to be when you grew up? A princess? A movie star? Maybe even a teacher? Well I, like a lot of little girls, wanted to be a ballerina. And like any 7 year old I pestered my mom about it until eventually she signed me up for ballet lessons.

I remember this about my first day of class: it was the single greatest and most exciting moment in my small life up to that point.

That was, until I got there.

My mother had signed me up at one of the most prestigious ballet schools in the Salt Lake Valley. So, of course, this ballet studio had a dress code that no one had told me about. I showed up in my green and pink striped costume box leotard and skirt only to discover that I was not dressed like everyone else, which, for a girl like me, was traumatic.

I don't remember much else about that day but it was the beginning of an era in my life. For the next several years I spent every afternoon in the ballet studio; taking classes, talking to older dancers, watching the others dance. Ballet was my passion, and passionate I was. I ached for the moment when I could put on my leotard and slippers, my mom would put my hair in a bun and I'd be off to class. I loved my ballet teachers with all my heart, and not because they were nice (because they were not) but simply because they taught me the beautiful art.

Now the goal of every little ballerina is to trade up her little ballet slippers for some pointe shoes. If you had pointe shoes, you were probably one of the best dancers in the world. The thing about dancing on pointe shoes is that you have to be very strong and your bones have to be developed so girls generally don't start until about age 12 or so. And when you're 7, age 12 is ancient. But I was determined to get my feet into some pointe shoes even if it was the last thing I did.

So, finally, it was time to get my first pair of pointe shoes. I remember this about that day: it was the single greatest and most exciting moment in my entire ballet filled life up until that point.

Then ensued the drudgery of preparing and wearing pointe shoes every day for what felt like the rest of my life. My shoes would wear out and I would have to sew ribbons onto a new pair and then break them in. My feet would be covered in blisters that would just be reopened the next day. It didn't matter that I had a broken toe, I danced anyway.

I don't dance anymore, and I miss it every single day. Unfortunately, you can't be a ballerina and a chemist, they're both too time intensive. But remnants of my childhood remain with me: I sit and stand straighter than most, I walk with my chin held high, sometimes I even catch myself with my feet turned out. I still dance around my kitchen, and my bedroom, and my workplace, and my laboratory; a dancer's spirit just cannot be contained.

It's The Little Things

Why I love my life:

Whilst waiting at the bus-stop I saw an old man driving a forklift down the road. He stopped at the light right in front of the me and another car pulled up next to him. He proceeded to rev his engine and try and persuade the person in the other car to race him. When the light turned green he gunned his 30 horsepower engine to a top speed of about 15 miles per hour... the other car left him in the dust.

About 3 minutes later the bus came. Almost everyone waiting at the stop got up to load the onto the bus. I was rather preoccupied with getting all of my stuff together but I looked up just in time to see the guy just in front of me put his original Nintendo Game Boy (lime green, of course) into his pocket.

Maybe I laugh too much, perhaps I'm too easily amused, but it's my secret to happiness. Don't tell anyone.