Little lists, Princeton edition

Thing that fill me with wonder: 

This place. Princeton is beautiful. And when I actually get out of the library and onto the campus (and beyond the campus), I am reminded of what it means to be here. And that I am here. And that is an incredible, incredible thing.

This tower! Guys, I found a tower in the Firestone Library. And you can study there. I got there early in the morning and was all alone and it made me so happy.

[Seriously. So cool.]

[A very happy Megan.]

Free cookies. But really. There's an endowment at Princeton to employ undergrads to bake cookies. And I get free cookies from it. That is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Things that make me laugh: 

Funny email lines like, "Kia engineers would like feedback on your Soul!"

Funny notes at said free cookie place:

[Wednesday nights have support groups for girlfriends of bitter unrecognized geniuses. This is amazing. Especially because you just know Princeton is crawling with 19- and 20-year-old guys who think they are the next ubermensch or some mixture of John Lennon and Vladmir Lenin. And some poor girls are dating said guys. Don't worry. It's happened to me and it gets better.]

This guy:

[Who doesn't think that he's either the ubermensch, John Lennon, or Vladimir Lenin. I like where this is going.]

Things that keep me sane: 

Conversations with friends and family who remind me of who am I am who I can be, who are are clear-eyed and kind-hearted and believe in me. (It's also great when said family and friends come visit me. That's twice as nice and gives a double dose of love, reality, and perspective.)

Conversations with classmates in coffee shops and street corners that remind me that we're all suffering and sharing this together . . . and that I'm doing better than I think I am and that the struggle means that I'm changing and processing for the better.

Apple orchards and car rides in the Jersey countryside. There's a reason this is the Garden State.

The fact that fall has finally come to Princeton. And it is beautiful and perfect.

This song. I've listened to this song countless times during the past two weeks. Because #realtalk, PhDs are hard. Like. Incredibly, incredibly hard. Perhaps at some point I will write more about how hard. But for right now, it's enough to say that there have been some really, really hard days, and it can be an emotional roller coaster. Because of needed conversations with family and friends and seeing things in a different light/different perspective, things are looking good, and I am hopeful for the future. But it has taken time to adjust to this level of hard. This song has helped in that process. It's beautiful. Give it a listen.



It's also just so incredibly Mormon at some points, which is probably another reason I like it so much.

Rise up like the sun and labor 'til the work is done. 

To build a home

There have been a lot of changes for me moving to Princeton (you'd think that moving gets easier, and it some ways, it does, but in other ways, it's still hard each time). One of the biggest adjustments is that I have my own apartment. This is both great (my weird "burn-both-ends-of-the-candle" hours don't bother anyone, I can talk very loudly with my boyfriend while FaceTiming him, I know that the messes in the kitchen are my own), and weird (I don't have other people to talk to when I get home, it's very quiet, and my messes are my own). 

But one beautiful thing that has happened the past few weeks is how this apartment has come together, from having my mom drive out with me to help me furnish my apartment, to having Sam come up and help put furniture together, to finally getting a couch and a mattress, and then little odds and ends that I kept on forgetting (like buying bowls or a yoga mat). Or the fact that my living room and bedroom have no real lights. It's amazing the difference having a lamp makes. 

[Let there be light]

I would say the thing that really made my apartment feel more "me" was putting my pictures and photographs up. They are reminders of what I think is beautiful--paintings, poetry, and bits that speak to my soul and remind me of other homes. 

There's something very satisfying in making a space a home--even if it's through little things. But it's a space that is mine. A room of my own. And for right now, the mix and match of that life will do.  

Sketches of Princeton [second]

If you didn't notice, now you'll know
that I'm going to try to do this week-by-week.
I will inevitably fail at some point
(in one respect, I already have, as this
is posted in the middle of my third week).
But I digress.

I found gardens this week. 

Many of them. 

Fellows' gardens, hidden gardens, 

the Garden State. 

There is something so soothing about finding 

a place where things grow. 

It's nice when there is order, 

but there doesn't have to be, 

because I like the wild, overgrown, English variety, too. 

But the organized ones

certainly have a charm

and a realization 

that somebody (somebodies) 

took time 

to plan 

and ponder

and prepare

and plant. 

And for that I am very grateful. 

I found time this week that I hadn't before. 

Some more time to just breathe

and to feel like I had a handle on the readings

and direction about where I want to go 

and who I want to become. 

That time and direction 

were so nice. 

Gifts. 

Like stumbling upon a garden 

I didn't even know existed. 

Grace. 

I ventured outside of Princeton. 

Crossed the Delaware

picked flowers

picked apples

chatted with aunts 

and with friends, old and new. 

There is something absolutely necessary 

in coming outside of the library 

and making your way outside

and finding those friends

who tell you that things will be okay 

and that to vent about readings

or the sheer lack of time 

or any other thing in between, 

large or small. 

Something necessary 

in people coming to find you 

to let you know that they care. 

Something that fills your heart

and leaves you more and better than before.