The last blog post of the semester. Before you read on, I would highly, highly recommend you listen to this song, which the title of my post is derived from. For one, because it’s so beautiful, I think, and two, because things will make more sense if you do. I’ve been listening to it a lot lately, thinking, singing along, crying. Wondering why I’m here, where I’m meant to go, who I’m supposed to be. And if I’m anywhere close to those things.

“You had to find it…”

I guess you could say that’s what this year has been all about for me: finding myself. Finding myself, and, as of late, being not just okay, but proud of the girl I find. I found myself at the beginning of the year through running again, training for my second half marathon. I found myself on those Long Slow Runs (oh, how I long to be up to running for two hours, nonstop again! The thinking I could accomplish! The (legal, running-induced) high I would get!): I discovered a girl with chafe marks in weird places, a purple toenail (oh, how I long for it to turn that color again! The mark of a real runner!), blisters, and a pretty mean appetite for homemade chocolate chip cookies. I loved that girl. But then, after the race, I kind of sank into a funk. I stopped running. I let dietetics stress take over my life and my fire was put out. I didn’t sweat in the morning but slept instead. So, over winter break, I found myself sad and anxious. Like to the point of stress-vom anxious. Unhappy with myself and the fact that I took the easy way out.

“To recreate us…”

Then, to make my nausea worse, I decided to make the Big Change. I wasn’t happy in dietetics. Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I knew it wasn’t me. So I decided to give in to that tiny voice in my heart and run with it. For weeks I cried and worried and wondered if I had made the stupidest decision of my life. At midnight, the night after I changed my major, I emailed my old advisor asking if I could go back to dietetics. But I held on through the uncertainties and didn’t go back, instead staying true to that voice as I tried to figure out what I was going to do with my life. I kept moving forward.

Enter the Lenten season. I was done at this point. Done with making excuses for not running. For not talking to people. For being so hateful to myself and unable to accept whom I was. For eating more than I probably should for somebody not running. And during the course of those forty days, the same messages kept coming up: I needed to stop selling myself short. I knew I was better than the girl I was pretending to be. I knew the Real Me was buried somewhere under the fears and anxieties. So I made it my mission to recreate myself, to unearth that girl.

“All things grow, all things grow…”

I started running again. Not only did I start running again, but I took things a little further. I started running with a group of strangers, even though I was scared to. And slowly, I’m beginning to see flashes of the Real Me, every time I hit the road again: I feel stronger. I feel happy. I feel like a Real Runner. But most of all, I feel happy, ridiculously happy. Happy to be blessed with such a full life, with legs that can carry me as far as I want. Happy to be, well…me. Nobody else but me.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes, in my mind…”

Spoiler alert: I’m not perfect. I eat too many cookies (although, I have modified them enough and last weekend successfully made them vegan. BAM.), I skip runs, I cry a lot, I prefer wearing my brother’s really old super ugly sweatpants from who knows when over jeans (my mom HATES that I do this), I’m a little too honest on this blog (however, it is free of grammatical errors, so I have that going for me), and I get scared to try new things and meet new people. Sometimes, like this winter, I find myself in a rut. But I’ve discovered this year that my imperfections and my ruts that I find myself in are the best gifts in the world, in a way. They force me to question myself, to really grow and become who I’m supposed to be. The unhappiness I’ve faced this semester has led me down paths that I am so grateful to have gone down: I’ve discovered comfort through running far, my unhappiness in my major led me to switch, my unhappiness with who I’ve been throughout my college career has led me to ask myself if I’m really living up to my full potential, and if I really give myself enough credit for the person I am and the things I’m capable of doing.

While I know what I want to be when I grow up now (!!! So happy), I still have lots of questions. Where will I live? Vermont? Boulder? Denver? Oregon? Washington? Or will I stay here? Am I selling myself short by staying here, when I know how badly I long to be somewhere open and natural that makes me feel full, as nature tends to do? These are the questions that have been plaguing me these past few days for some reason. What do I really want out of the life and the potential that stretches before me as I come to the close of yet another chapter in my undergraduate education? What does the Real Me wish for? And will I have the courage, like I did in making the Big Change, to stay true to the Real Me and follow her desires, no matter how scared I might be to do so?

I wish I knew how to un-awkwardly close this big, thoughtful post. But I don’t. All I can say is that I’m grateful for this year: for the ups and for the downs. For the tears, for the gigantic smiles, for the questions, for the answers. For revealing to me, in the weirdest ways, the girl I’m supposed to be.

And for helping me to finally realize just how much I love her.

“All things go, all things go.”

-Carly

“Chicago [Acoustic]” by Sufjan Stevens

I’m done. I have a calc test in the morning, but I can’t bring myself to study for it anymore. Yes, at about the spring break mark I start losing motivation pretty fast. The weather turns! I start running again! Who in their right mind would want to be working on applications of derivatives at such a magical time of the year? And anyway, if the turn of the season isn’t enough of a distraction, I have other things on my mind, as per usual, like the looming question of, “What am I going to do this summer?”

I remember fondly the night over winter break that I threatened to change majors once and for all. My father told me something about getting a job over the summer at a hospital (ugh) to up my shot at a dietetics internship, when I stubbornly announced, “Well, I’m thinking about changing majors, sooo…” (“So that’s not going to happen”, in other words.) And then, quite seriously, maybe three days after I made the Big Change, daddy told me that I needed to get a biology internship in a lab this summer. So I began the dreaded task of filling out online applications (does anybody else hate those things? I always find them so ambiguous.) to a couple of really awesome places that I figured I didn’t have much a shot with. Yes, my dad was convinced I had just as good of a chance at getting a spot at the Danforth Center’s internship as all of those other kids who probably have known all their lives they were destined to be scientists. So I applied. I kept looking around for more opportunities, and excitedly applied for a chemistry internship at Sigma-Aldrich as well.

The other day as I was happily (??) doing my calculus, my other best friend Elizabeth (who claims to be a blogger, but whatever) came in and told me about the interview process she underwent for a computer science internship at Sigma. That’s when it hit me: if I get lucky enough to interview there, it’s going to be hard. They’re not going to ask me to talk about a deadline I had to meet, or what my weakest personality trait is (in addition to hating online job applications, I also hate those types of interview questions as well. I suck at them.). They’re going to ask me super technical questions that may require a calculator. And scratch paper. And help from the Chemistry Gods; namely, Zeus, the dog who wrote my all-time favorite book, “Organic Chemistry”:

Don't let the human in the photo fool you.

I’m scared. I heard back from the Danforth Center several weeks ago about my status in the application process, but nothing from Sigma. Do I have a shot at it? Now that I’m finally starting to feel at home in St. Louis, I want to spend the summer here, as I think it would do wonders for my personal growth. At other times, I feel like it may be nice to lifeguard again. I like being outrageously tan. But living here, on my own…it would push me out of my comfort zone to a new degree, as I ‘d have plenty of time to explore and have fun and do the things I don’t have time to do during the school year (or feel too guilty to do).

I wish I had answers to what was going to happen! But until then, I wait, with my fingers crossed that it all works out for the best. I have a feeling that whatever happens will in fact be what’s best for me. I may not see it at first, but it will be (this is pretty much the story of my life this semester, no?).

Hang in there everyone! You can do it!

-Carly

“Soft” by Washed Out

Let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we? Maybe I’ll even throw in a few deep, thought-provoking quotes for good measure along the way to break things up. Plus, I will add links to external content wherever I see fit.

Now that you can’t say I didn’t warn you, let’s begin. Read on at your own discretion.

As I mentioned on my last post, this past Lenten season has been by far one of the most incredible and life-changing of my twenty-one years of existence, spiritually, mentally, emotionally, physically. While I don’t want to go into details about it, I will say that it got me thinking about all of the ways in which maybe I sell myself short out of fear or because doing something new would give me that, “Oh man, somebody bring me the trash can, I’m going to stress-vom my almond butter sandwich, here” feeling, and let’s be real: I loathe that feeling. So, for the sake of keeping my lunch in my stomach (among other reasons), I’ve opted out. But is that what I really want for myself? And, to put a more spiritual twist on it, as it was Lent when all of this came to me, is that what God wants for me? To hide my talents and gifts and my true super-happy self from the world because I’m too afraid of how others might respond to that girl?

Doubtful.

Every year in the spring, I do the Busy Person’s Retreat, put on by Campus Ministry (side note: I’m now on the CM team for next year…SUPER EXCITED.). This year, my spiritual director asked me who had hurt me in the past. After all, this is likely where my insecurities and anxieties stem from. And as I was thinking about it these past few days, it finally hit me: ballet. My time as a ballet dancer is largely to blame for a lot of the negative feelings I get in my gut before I go and do something new. Let me explain.

During my freshman year of college, I made myself take classes at one of the hardest, best ballet schools in St. Louis. Behind as I was, I was put in the class with the twelve-year-olds, who often asked me if I really was in college. I remember one such conversation with this little red-headed prima. I told her my age/year in school. Her response?

“Whoa.”

True story.

Anyhow, this place was awful. The girls were so, so, so talented. And they knew it. And they had money. (Okay, their parents did.) And they knew it. I, on the other hand, was the college girl who not only was not going to be attending ABT’s summer intensive in NYC, but was also the one who clearly had nothing better to do than hang around with twelve-year-olds in tights every Saturday. They talked bad about me. They exchanged weird looks when they thought I wasn’t looking. I wanted to disappear. I did the next best thing and left at the end of the semester, as dancing was no longer fun at that point.

So I suppose what I’m getting at here is that I’ve been burned. And, as much as I hate to say it, I’ve never let those wounds completely heal, and instead have been anxiously awaiting the next time when somebody else, like some fancy Lululemon clad, Boston-qualifier decides to give me the dreaded once-over. And, as a result, those anxieties have kept me exactly where they want to keep me: somewhere safe, where I can’t get hurt or embarrassed by somebody I know in my heart I’m bigger than.

But that’s no way to live: letting past experiences keep you from being whom you want to be now, or letting people who are probably actually intimidated by you let you believe that you should in fact be afraid of them.

So this evening I did something I was scared to do. My digestive system hated me all day. But this evening, for the first time, I went and joined a running group. I wanted to turn around and go back to my car. Confession: I did. But then I told my Kayanos that they’d be sorry if they carried me anywhere but to where the other runners were. So I walked over to them. And we ran.

And you know what? I was so, so, so glad I did. The running community, unlike the hateful, competitive world of ballet, has been nothing but welcoming of me. I may not have the best splits (HA! Get it…we’re talking about dance and running here!). I may not run every day because of my foot (that’s another thing I have ballet to thank for. Thanks, pointe, thanks.). I may not be Scott Jurek in all of his awesomeness. But you know what? I’m still a runner! And everyone I’ve met thus far has told me nothing less.

Sure, I’ve been hurt in the past. But I don’t want to let that hold me back anymore, because, as I’ve come to discover through running, nobody wants to humiliate me or make me feel bad anymore. And if they do? They’re not the people I need in my life anyway.

So! What are you waiting for? Me to give you a quote? Okay!

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

So eloquently said, Mark.

-Carly

“All of Me” by Tanlines (I swear the number of times I play this album rivals the number of times my little sis plays T-Swift’s new one, whatever it’s called (which I should know considering how much we hear it)).

Aaah, the old Comfort Zone. I love it for obvious reasons (it’s comfortable), but I also have come to absolutely despise it over the past few weeks as I spent a ton of time reflecting on my life during the Lenten season. As much as I hate to admit it, my Comfort Zone has me wrapped around its finger, and I’ve never realized just how bad the situation was until just now, when I forced myself to look it in the eye.

Last week, I found myself in my new advisor’s office planning my schedule for next year (physics 1, calc 2, cell and molec, genetics, and bio seminar). Next year, that is, my senior year. AKA my LAST YEAR AT FONTBONNE. Cue “quarter of my life” crisis. No, this time my crisis is not so much about what I want to do with my life in the sense of “Oh, what do I want to be when I grow up?” (because I’m pretty sure I have an idea about that, though I don’t want to share it because it will be different tomorrow). Rather, this crisis is about all of the smaller things I want to do with my life but haven’t done because doing so would be out of my Comfort Zone. So instead of stepping into the unknown, I’ve taken the easy way out during my time in college: staying in my room to study something I’ve studied for five hours that day already, going home every weekend to study it some more instead of using that time to explore all of the places in St. Louis I’ve wanted to explore but never quite had the nerve to go check out for fear of somehow making a fool of myself (Not sure how I would make a fool of myself doing this, but I suppose that’s just the irrationality of my fears speaking.).

So. I kept telling myself, “Grad school! Then I will move out West like I dream of doing, and I’ll be that super awesome, super fit, outdoorsy person who runs marathons and triathlons and doesn’t wimp out of a three miler because it’s too cold or too windy or the cicadas are out! I will be that person who isn’t afraid to go out and spontaneously try new and adventurous things!” Blah, blah, blah.

But you know what? I’m pretty sure that’s what I said in high school (Okay, I didn’t like to run back then, but that’s beside the point). NO. I’m not waiting for Grad school anymore. Grad school may never come: I could get hit by a car while running on the one day I don’t wimp out of a workout. And anyhow, I have a suspicion that once I’m in Grad school, the situation won’t be all that different. I’ll be saying things like, “Oh, tomorrow I’ll start living the life I’ve imagined.” So you know what I’ve decided? The time is NOW. It’s time to let go of my Comfort Zone and do what I want to do already, because frankly, this is getting ridiculous.

You know how they say that you should sign up for a big race then post it everywhere (Facebook, Twitter, etc.) to hold yourself accountable? Well, I’m about to do it here. Yesterday, as I was at my hometown’s community center for my bike workout (another Zone I must bust out of), I saw a flier for a sprint triathlon on May 18th. Last spring break my dad bought me an expensive road bike which has been sitting patiently in my dorm, waiting for this moment: the moment when I decided to shed my Comfort Zone and take it out for a real training ride in Forest Park, unafraid of looking like a total newbie putt-putting around on her bike.

I have officially decided that I’m going to do it. I’m going to train and make myself into a real triathlete, starting this week.

With all of this being said, I dare you to stop me next time you see me and say, “Oh hey Carly, how’s the triathlon training coming along? Did you brick today? Please, fill me in on your workout.” Do it! Hold me accountable! Make me uncomfortable!
(Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll look for a girl with straight-across bangs. If that’s the case, good luck finding me.)

I haven’t added any grand, dramatic quotes to my more recent blogs. So that means I’m overdue for a quote here. Well, as the tire-cover-thingy of this jeep in front of me so elegantly said I was driving back from yet another weekend at home:

“One life. Live it.”

Enjoy your winter break, everyone! Go do something outrageous.

-Carly

“New Year” by Beach House

I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge the fact that we’re, what?, a week past the halfway mark of the semester? The sheer amount of stuff I’ve learned in the past eight weeks is kind of really mind-blowing.

I’ve learned, for example, what a derivative is. I’ve learned how to take the derivative of the aforementioned derivative. I’ve been reading all about GMO foods for a book report that I’m doing for my evolution class. I’ve learnt about the Michaelis-Menten equation and its graphs. I’ve learned some really, really fun words, including, but not limited to, glycosylphosphatidylinositol (try saying that one five times fast. Heck, try saying it at all. I dare you.). I’ve revisited some old friends from general chemistry that I really should be a master at, but actually kind of suck at (but it’s okay, because I think we all have come to the agreement that we all suck at these things and should probably retake gen chem. as a result), including acid-base chemistry, the pH scale, and pka; kinetics; and thermodynamics. Yes, if I haven’t pulled this analogy on my blog yet, I’m doing it now:

My mind is like a supersaturated solution: one more particle of information, and everything will crystallize out of solution.

(Yes, it’s nice to know that the concept of solubility is not above my level of comprehension and that I can make such analogies as a result.)

In addition to lots of learning going on, things have been picking up speed at the Botanical Garden, where I’m currently an intern. A classmate (who is also a dietetics drop-out) and I are in charge of designing seven display cases in the Brookings Interpretive Center. Hey, no pressure, right? I think we did a fine job, and tomorrow we get to start putting them together. I highly recommend you go to the Garden this spring and check out Brookings…it’s going to be awesome when we get it flipped to fit the Garden’s “Foodology” theme! Plus, something tells me the Garden is spectacular in spring…

Anyhow, I hope everyone else’s semester is going smoothly as well! I’m feeling at home in my new department, and I think I know what I want to do with my life. I would say what it is, but it’ll be different next week or month or whatever, so I’ll refrain from doing so.

Have a great weekend everyone! And remember: spring break is almost here.

-Carly

“Assistant Director” by Ducktails

I’m going to keep this blog post gloriously short tonight. I just felt the need to share my copious amounts of happiness with the world.

Lately I’ve been wearing this really stupid smile on my face as I sit down to study with my biochemistry textbook, which is becoming satisfyingly worn-in with highlighter and pencil marks where I began underlining things that I felt were important before coming to the conclusion that everything was important and that I was wasting my time. Yes, the shift has occurred: the scary newness of unfamiliar territory has worn off, and I finally, finally feel at home on the third floor of AB. I love the feeling I get where, after reading the same chapter in my biochem book three times, it all finally clicks (yes, it does take that long for this information to sink in). I love how fellow blogger Courtney and I have the longest email conversations freaking out over homework problems every evening after classes are over. I love how my professors move exam dates for us when we ask reeeally nicely. I love how my friends were so excited and happy and welcoming when I made the switch, even when I was feeling nervous and awful about it. I love how all of those same friends don’t stop being my friend when I’m crabby because I’ve been working on the same Michaelis-Menten equation problem or what have you and can’t seem to get the same answer as them. I love how Doc takes the time to answer all of my calc questions during her office hours, and lets me sit there and do my homework. I love knowing that somehow, all of the crazy information (because some of the stuff I’ve learned in the past few weeks is really kind of mind-boggling and awesome) will help me make a difference someday as I face the challenges of our time.

Sure, I may have spent six hours (at least) working on a biochem take-home test problem, but in all honesty, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Carly

“Clash the Truth” by Beach Fossils (I. Love. This. New. Album.)

Last week on my blog, I made a rather bold statement. Okay, I probably made several, but this one keeps coming back to me:

“…I know now that I definitely don’t like biochemistry enough to be a biochemist (organic chem. is way better…). I thought I would enjoy learning about the chemistry of life, but honestly, I kind of really dislike it. A lot.”

I would like to take a moment to publically apologize to biochemistry for not giving it time to sink in and grow on me. To quote my mom when I told her last week about my dread of the subject:

“You’ve been doing it for what, two weeks?”

To which I defensively responded that it had been more like five weeks, thank you, which is plenty of time to decide that you don’t like something, right? Of course. At least that’s what I thought, until last Thursday, when my view of everything changed and I began to think more logically again.

Fontbonne is in the process of hiring a new organic chem. professor! And we biology students have had the opportunity to attend mock lectures given by potential candidates. Last Thursday, we got out of biochem early, and Dr. Paine-Saunders led us upstairs to meet the latest candidate, a guy from Wisconsin. Now, I’ve heard that Wisconsin’s chemistry program is one of the best in the nation, so I was excited to see what methods he would employ in his teaching demo. We began with a brief question and answer session, during which we students were given some time to drill him on anything we wanted. One girl asked him how he felt about having students in his organic chemistry class who weren’t planning on going into a chemistry-related field. To which he gave the most wonderful, perfect response: he explained how, while those students may not be going into chemistry, per se, it is likely their fields are in fact related to chemistry and that a firm understanding in the subject is crucial in order to be truly competent in whatever career it is they have (like nutrition, for example).

I fought the urge to write, “HIRE THIS GUY!!” on my evaluation sheet.

See, I’m a terrible decision maker, and the fact that I chose to change majors is kind of a huge deal. Constantly I go back and forth in my head: “Did I make the right choice? Or did I make the stupidest decision of my life?” But this potential future organic chemistry teacher vocalized exactly why I changed majors, proving to me that my logic behind making the switch was completely sound. I changed majors because I knew that understanding what’s going on at the molecular level would help me better understand the big-picture concepts that I’m so passionate about. I would understand why organic agriculture is something worth advocating for, I would understand why processed foods and cosmetics and plastic water bottles and carpets and mattresses (I am NOT paranoid) are bad for us, I would understand what’s going on in the cells of my body as I’m training for my next half-marathon in April. Yes, this is why I changed majors, to understand these things and so much more! But my anxiety and fear over my decision kept me from seeing things rationally, and instead led me into believing that my new major was pulling me farther and farther away from who I am and who I want to be as a scientist. I see now, though, that the opposite is happening, just as I knew it would all along: The more I get into biochem, the more I see how applicable it is to what I want to do.

So, long story short, after making this statement, the candidate proved his point with an awesome lecture on glycolysis, and well, the rest is history. I am officially hooked on the challenge of biochemistry now. And you know what? Let’s be honest here: a PhD in it would be pretty awesome…

I’m excited to see where my new, clear vision takes me. I now know that I’ve made the right choice.

Have a good weekend everyone!

-Carly

“New Theory” by Washed Out

Let’s talk about catalysis, shall we? And, before you stop reading, I’m not eluding back to the biochemistry chapter I’ve spent the past five or six hours reading and taking notes over titled “Properties of Enzymes” (because as you and I are well aware of, the most important characteristics of these little guys is that they speed up reactions that would be way too slow to be beneficial…in other words, they’re catalysts.). No, I will spare you the details and instead talk about catalysis in light of the quote that I cut out of a magazine ad my freshman year and now have hanging on the bulletin board in front of my desk in my dorm:

“What if we took the time to rethink things? Forcing ourselves to look at how things are and imagining what they could be. Not waiting for change, but being the catalyst.”

When I made the Big Change (that is, change of my major), I did so thinking I was going to become a biochemist. Seriously! After four weeks of being an Official Biology Major, however, I know now that I definitely don’t like biochemistry enough to be a biochemist (organic chem. is way better…). I thought I would enjoy learning about the chemistry of life, but honestly, I kind of really dislike it. A lot. And that really kind of worries me. A lot. So if I don’t want to be a biochemist, then, what do I want to be? This is where the above quote comes in: I may not know exactly what I plan to get my PhD in yet, but there’s one thing I do know, and that’s the fact that when I grow up, I want to be a catalyst.

As the weeks go on, I find myself drifting farther and farther away from who I was prior to the Big Change. My case in point: I’m about to read a book on GMO’s and how maybe they are in fact what the world needs. Me, the girl who praises the virtues of organic food, eats pretty much only organic food…thinking that GMO’s aren’t so big and bad as we make them sound (DISCLAIMER: I’M STILL UNSURE OF MY FEELINGS TOWARDS GENETIC MODIFICATION, AS I AM STILL LEARNING ABOUT IT.)? This may be the reason why I’m getting so upset: I’m worried that, as a scientist, that all of my beliefs and my goals are going to come crashing down. I’m so passionate about organic agriculture, and if there’s one thing that really gets me upset, it’s not GMO’s, but rather, the use of toxic pesticides. But there are so many critics of organic! How can I pursue a career in something that many people believe is not feasible on a large scale? Another thing that gets me upset: chemicals in processed foods and cosmetics and tons of other things we don’t think twice about! How can I prove to people that maybe we should be worried about these things? Can I do it? And if I can, what degree will give me the credentials to best stand up for what I believe in and prove that there is a science behind it?

…Or, as I’ve been spending sleepless nights wondering, will I simply be doomed to a career doing something that totally goes against what I believe in for the sake of getting a job? For the sake of having something secure? I can’t let that happen!

I’m going to finish this blog post with another quote, courtesy of Steve Jobs (he has some of the best quotes, I’m telling you!). I think he described an effective catalyst the best: “Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”

Here’s to having the courage to be a catalyst, no matter how much activation energy the reaction might take.

-Carly

“Sleeping Lessons” by The Shins

As cliché as it may sound, if there’s one thing I’ve learned during the course of my time in college so far, it’s that this really is a time of self-discovery. If you had told the straight across bangs-sporting, ballet dancing, high school version of myself that once I went to university, I would quit ballet, start running, drastically change my diet a few times, wear some weird outfits (which make me cringe just thinking about them), and, just days before the second semester of my junior year is to begin, change my major, I would have never believed you. Alas, that is what’s happened. I favor running tights over pink, mesh Capezios now. The products of food science terrify me, so I eat plants instead. And, as of Friday, January 11, 2013, at around noon, I am no longer a dietetics major double-minoring in chemistry and biology. Rather, I am now a biology major, single-minoring in chemistry.

My winter break was pretty weird, thank you. It all began with a trip down memory lane that left me sad, confused, and more emotional than usual (I blame the influx of white sugar in my system for these feelings, however, due to too many holiday treats, but whatever.). After my finals, I drove back home to watch my old ballet school perform “The Nutcracker” as is done every other year. My old friend Lauren, who’s a senior this year, was dancing the lead of Sugar Plum, as I had my junior year in high school. As soon as she got out there, I burst into tears for unknown reasons. After the show, I continued to cry and hug her, like an insane member of her fan club or something. For some reason, anytime I thought about the show during the following weeks, my stomach began to churn. I lost my appetite, and almost lost my stomach contents as well on more occasions than I care to recall. I cried. And I couldn’t understand why.

I quit ballet my freshman year in college. There was this tiny voice in my head asking me, ““Hey Carly, do you really want to spend three days a week in a leotard surrounded by skinny twelve-year-olds who can fouette circles around you when you’re supposed to be a mature college student?” I was at one of the most prestigious ballet schools in St. Louis, and, because I wasn’t as good as the other dancers, was placed in, I kid you not, the twelve-year-old level. (They’re THAT good.) Something wasn’t right though. I wasn’t happy. I wanted to skip class. I wanted so desperately to move on with my life. So, feeling scared, I took the leap and left.

Fast-forward to my junior-year self, happy with my decision to leave ballet. I loved to run! I loved to bike! I loved food! I was a spectroscopy superstar (don’t be jealous)! Oh, what fun it is to discover your true self! But things weren’t all perfect. The little voice inside my head was back, as I worked on my dietetics homework. As I met with a partner for a group project. As I thought about the upcoming semester and the dietetics classes that I would be taking that I was secretly dreading. “Hey Carly, don’t you think you’d be better off doing something else?”

So over Christmas break, I began flirting with the voice yet again. It tempted me: “You quit ballet, and look at all of the good things that resulted. If you quit your major, who knows what good would result?” The voice hadn’t led me astray the first time, I reasoned, so why should I doubt its wisdom in this case? So, that Friday, I made the leap. Friday night a different voice led me to send a panicky email at midnight to my old advisor (titled “SOS” and marked with the urgent red exclamation mark…I was so not going to regret that message…) telling her I had made a mistake and, could I please come back to the dietetics department? But then, after days of crying and worrying, I’ve come up with an awesome list of all the things I’m passionate about and all of the dreams I hope to pursue as a professional someday. And I know that once again, the voice has led me back down the right path.

So. I’ve learned over the past five to seven weeks or so that it’s okay to question your path. I spent weeks feeling depressed about the fact that my time as a ballerina is over. I could go back to dancing, yeah, but I don’t want to, really. I love to run and I love to do yoga and bike. I’ve also learned that, while it may not be apparent at first, once the stress of making a major decision clears, things do begin to fall into place, and you become the person you’re really meant to be. I may have been worried at first about becoming a biology major once and for all, but now I feel really, really good about it. I can’t wait to see what adventures the semester brings! I can’t wait to see who I can become and the things I can do! I trust myself now. As one of my most favorite Thoreau quotes goes:

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined.”

I have a feeling that the life I’ve imagined is getting closer with each risk I take…

Welcome back and happy New Year, everyone.

-Carly

“All Figured Out” by: Tanlines

As I mentioned in my first post, I’ve changed a lot since first entering college. While my looks have changed (in my opinion) quite astronomically, I think the biggest change I’ve experienced has been in my personal interests. For example, had you told me as I went through my first semester of general chemistry as a freshman that in a year I’d be weirdly passionate about alkanes, alkenes, and alkynes, I would have been pretty skeptical. Actually, if you had told me that I would know and understand what those things were, I would have been pretty skeptical, too. But that’s exactly where I found myself the next year: spending hours in my dorm studying organic chemistry because I liked it. And I was good at it. That’s when I decided to add a chemistry minor, and, in the spring, one in biology as well. All that from a girl who hated science in high school (I blame that on lazy, bad teachers. Okay, and I was lazy about science then, too.)!

Excuse me while I geek out here, but adding all of these extra science classes has seriously opened my eyes to things I had never thought about before. Organic chemistry has made me realize just how incredibly toxic the world we live in is, from the foods we put in are bodies that are full of crazy sounding chemicals or are sprayed with pesticides, to the things we put on our bodies that contain such lovelies as phthalates and fragrances. As I begin to test my biology skills (which are terribly rusty from high school, thanks to the aforementioned bad teachers and my laziness), I’ve come to realize how incredibly sophisticated the natural world is. Not to mention beautiful! And also, have you ever stopped to think about how amazing the human body is? And how, if we really respect it, it’s capable of doing some pretty impressive stuff?

So. As soon as I think I have my future potential career all chosen, I realize usually around two weeks later that maybe there’s something else I’d rather do. And that’s the case now. I started off the year thinking I wanted to go into environmental toxicology and molecular nutrition, but now I’m not so sure what I want to do! There’s so much stuff that fascinates me at this point that I don’t know how I’ll ever narrow it down. If I could have a job that allows me to travel and experience the natural world in all its glory, and it somehow ties the topics of plant foods and human nutrition together, that’s what I’d want to do. Wouldn’t it be cool to go to the rainforest and study the nutritional properties of some exotic plant food? I mean, surely that’s a job, right? Whoever concluded that chocolate is in fact good for us or that chia seeds are incredible little powerhouses, I applaud them. And this week, I want their job.

I guess what got me thinking about this was my trip to the Botanical Gardens yesterday. The more time I spend there, the happier and more confused I am. I have a feeling, though, that eventually it’ll all come together if I just keep pursuing those very things that make me happy. So I suppose I’ll leave you with a quote from the late Steve Jobs that I have hanging above my desk that reminds me to keep moving forward, despite the confusion:

“Follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.”

-Carly