god gave me you.

for the last two days, i've been trying to formulate my thoughts into something sensical, so that i could put them on a page. sunday was a rough day for me. i spent most of the day huddled under my hope college flying dutchmen sweatshirt blanket watching "pretty little liars" as tears continuously fell from my eyes. but it's not for the reason i'm sure any of you are thinking.

i've told this story a total of four times now, to four people. but i was not completely honest in any of the tellings. i'm not sure why i felt the need to hide things that are so important to me. i mean, i still haven't told this to some of my best friends. but something happened last night. something that changed my mind. something that made me realize that love will always be most important.

i spent four years at hope college. in those four years, i'll wager that i walked across the train tracks thousands of times. you had to cross them to get to any sporting event, to get to meijer, to go anywhere, pretty much. it meant nothing to me. but last night, a hope college freshman was killed on those same tracks, struck by one of the trains that so often rattle nearby houses and apartment buildings. what do i do with that? why did this happen? what is the meaning?

i don't have any answers. but i do have a story.

as my last post demonstrated, i love hockey. i'm not going to go into any more detail, because you can read it here. so i was beyond excited to be able to watch my team play online on saturday night. hope college, you'll always be my team. i'm about the furthest from being dutch as anyone can be, but at the same time, the dutch will always have my heart. i watched the game, i agonized over it, i yelled at the computer and cheered and groaned and laughed at the funny commentary. it wasn't as good as being there, but it was all i had. and then the game ended. and i realized i was still sitting in my bedroom, yelling at a computer screen. i wasn't in holland anymore. and my heart ached. hockey, the ice, the smell of an arena... that is home. minnesota is home. and i was missing home.

so i started typing an email to one of my dearest friends. and i did the best i could to describe why there were tears running down my face. i tried to put the numbness into words, but i don't think i succeeded. when i reach that stage of loneliness, i just want to feel. i wanted to hop in my car, drive to the interstate, and floor it. i wanted to climb on the roof and stand on the edge. i wanted stand on the edge of a cliff and jump. i'm not an adrenaline junkie, by any means. but that's what i wanted on saturday night. instead, i closed my computer, turned my phone on silent, and burrowed into my bed.

sunday, i woke up and went to church for the first time since i've been here. a friend of mine from lab suggested a church to me, and i went. and i cried during the service, because it felt like it was for me. the message was simple - it's not easy to respond to a message from god. but he speaks to us all the time. nothing is a coincidence, because everything is planned out by him. the people we "randomly" meet aren't random. people are strategically put into our lives. events happen for a reason. i needed to hear that. because it makes the summer make so much more sense. it makes my life make so much more sense.

i look at my closest friends. my absolute best friend is someone i randomly spent three weeks with in the british isles when i was 13. two of the people i'm closest to now went to hope for all 4 years with me, but i first met and talked to them in scotland. and the rest are from my lab. think about this... i graduated in may. i shouldn't have stayed at hope for the summer, but i decided to because i wanted to stay in michigan for the two weddings i was going to be in, and i love chemistry. and look where i am now. look where god put me. look who he gave me.

i would never be where i am right now without a certain six people in my life. and i met all of them in the most random of situations. you know who you are. and i want to take this time to tell you all that i love you. and that i appreciate you. and that you have made me who i am, and i would be lost without you.

and i want to thank god for intentionally crossing our paths. i want to thank god for helping me see all that you are, and all that you bring out in me. i want to thank god for giving me you.

"i've been a walking heartache.

i've made a mess of me.

the person that i've been lately

ain't who i want to be.

but you stay here right beside me

and watch as the storm blows through.

and i need you.

god gave me you for the ups and downs.

god gave me you for the days of doubt.

for when i think i lost my way

there are no words here left to say, it's true.

but god gave me you."

--> blake shelton, "god gave me you"

hockey is a minnesota girl's best friend.

there's something about hockey that makes me yearn for red wing.

i'm not sure exactly what the cause is. arenas have been a part of my life for... as long as i can remember. i mean, hey. i'm more graceful on the ice than on the ground, by a long shot. it's probably just memories, what i associate hockey with. and sometimes my memory is just too crisp and clear for my own good.

i close my eyes and am taken to bergwall. i see the black rubbery stuff (does that stuff have a name?) that covers everything from the front door to the ice, including the bathrooms. i see my daddy, tying my skates for me. i see his old hockey skates, that still have the little eraser things on the back. i see the circles and the crease, with almost all signs of hockey erased from the ice for our figure skating lessons. i see open skate, where my dad would make me practice crossovers and skating backwards long past when i wanted to. thank goodness he did, haha. i see the 1997 high school team, with johnny pohl at the helm, going all the way to state and winning it all. he played for the gophers then, and played a little in the nhl. he, and that team, introduced me to hockey for the first time. i see 8th grade gym class, with a unit on skating. a bus loaded us up and took us to bergwall for an hour each day for 2 weeks. all the hockey players were given an a+++ by the biased teacher, while i only got an a+ as a figure skater. haha. i can smell it, i can taste it, i can feel the ice connect with my tailbone as i practice spins, again and again. i loved it and hated it and never thought i would live without it.

then we moved to prairie island. which, of course, we all hated at first. prarie island is where all of my high school memories are. i only figured skated there for a year or two before my vertigo made it impossible for me to master the spins anymore. although i didn't know it was vertigo at the time. but it was at that arena where hockey eclipsed figure skating. it was there, in 2003, where we watched the best high school team since johnny pohl's make a run at state, eventually losing in the finals to some private cities' school. reid cashman played on that team. he was a family friend. he autographed my rink rats shirt, which is now part of the t-shirt blanket on my chair here in north carolina. it was in this arena where i decided i wanted to be a part of it, even though i didn't know how to play. in was at prairie island where i became the girls' hockey manager my sophomore year, and statistician junior year. i knew the ref's signals, i kept track of shots, the coach trusted my numbers over the people sitting in the box. hockey was my life, and i loved it. our team was awful, haha, that was the downside. and then, senior year, i would go to games and cheer on the boys, mostly. they were good that year. my friend will was the goalie. the ref's signals were the same. i got so into some of those games. twitchy, some would say. my heart was on the ice with that team. i knew and was in classes with over half of them. that's small town minnesota. that's what i miss.

when i go home for christmas, i always go to at least one game with my parents. my dad and i watch the same way. we sit together, talk under our breaths. he "cuts" people as they screw up, and i laugh. i don't know the players anymore. it doesn't matter. i'm always cheering for red wing. purple and white are as much my colors as orange and blue. and hockey is hockey. and the mshsl always has good hockey.

at hope, that continued into my freshman year. i was able to go to a game here or there, but there was a caveat. the rink was off campus. i didn't have a car. i learned to live without hockey, but i followed the scores, the team. i didn't really know any hockey players anymore. the hockey hole sort of filled when i met my ex-boyfriend. he was anti-sports, as a whole. so i... forgot. i forgot what the ice does to me. i forgot everything i knew, was raised with. and then we broke up.

i came back from christmas break last year and wanted hockey. i had been to a couple games with my parents again, and needed it. i begged roommates, friends, anyone to take me. i was able to get to 5 games, i think. and i absorbed it. it smelled like home. the echos, the atmosphere, the sound of sharp metal digging into the smooth surface of the ice. i now close my eyes and see orange and blue, hear the "dutchmen" cheers, feel full, passionate, and happy. hockey is who i am. i'm a minnesota girl.

and then this summer, the most amazing thing happened. i made a new friend who feels the same way about hockey as i do. the difference - he plays. in fact, he's hope's goalie. in the summer, we connected about other things. but now hockey season is in session. and i feel that craving again. and i have someone to watch now, someone to cheer for, a reason to talk to my computer as i watch the games online. i have purpose. i miss hockey.

i visited last weekend, as i mentioned. he had been at a tournament. and when he got home, we talked hockey. and i remembered how much i loved it. i could picture what he was seeing. he brought me home again, even if just for the weekend. there's a game tomorrow that i can watch. i'm barely sitting still, and it's still a day and a half away. that's what hockey does to me.

diamonds, i've been told, are a girl's best friend. that is a gross generalization, and false, for me. i don't need diamonds, or fancy things. i just need ice, and checking, and cold, and passion. i need hockey. i need to feel at home.

hockey is a minnesota girl's best friend.

you to miss.

i'm not running scared

i will stay right where

i gave you my word that i would be

i don't want to hurt

but i know i have to feel

i do it to be close to you

just to keep you real

and i don't want to cry

but tears are part of life

they conquer the impossible

and make you feel alive

and i'm so glad, my love, that i have you to miss.

--> love and theft, "you to miss"

i had the most amazing weekend in holland.

i got to see friends, and laugh, and get hugged, and be happy.

and yes, i'm sad that i had to leave so soon.

but i have them to miss. and i have hope to miss. and holland to miss.

and friends, i'm so glad, my loves, that i have you to miss.

life ain't always beautiful, but it's a beautiful ride.

i have an exam tomorrow, so i won't write much.

sometimes, i'm disenchanted with the world. i have days where i'm not sure which way is up and were i'm supposed to be. or if i'm doing the right thing at all. but then... then something reminds me.

i get scared out of my mind at a haunted house, but i have someone's hand to hold.

i think this place is lonely and boring, and then i take a walk through ruined buildings that predate the declaration of independence.

i don't believe i'm good enough or smart enough or prepared enough to present on a paper in journal club, until i get a text that simply says "rock that presentation."

i lie in bed late into the morning because i know i have a day of studying ahead of me, and when i get up and check my email, a good friend has some time to chat.

i sit in my lonely apartment while my roommate and her fiance are on a date, and i get a phone call from another good friend. or my daddy.

i'm sitting through a boring and awful biochemistry lecture, and yet another good friend texts me with a story that makes me laugh.

i may not always believe in myself. but people believe in me. it's true, the world isn't always perfect. but life is like a biochemical reaction. everything is coupled. for every bad thing that makes us not want to continue, something good gives us the energy to move forward. sometimes i hate it here. but that's ok. because other times i spend an hour of the afternoon walking through the trees with the late afternoon sun shining down on me. or i hold the small body of a baby monkey and feel his heart beating fast against my fingers while he is sedated for a brain scan. or i hear the familiar sound of a text message reaching my phone as a friend i left behind in the midwest thinks of me.

i'm not great at change. i can adjust, i can adapt, but i don't necessarily like it.

that's all right. i'm doing just fine. life ain't always beautiful...

but it's a beautiful ride.

every day is a revolution.

so apparently there was some news about neutrinos last week. maybe they move faster than the speed of light. or, maybe they don't. last fall, some crazies thought there were arsenic-based life forms living in volcanic lakes or something. and that was false. but still.

the new york times wrote an article about it. and xkcd did a comic about it. so this is big news.

it has made me realize how dynamic life is. it's always changing. every day is a revolution.

things are happening all the time. for example, i have decided to return to hope college for homecoming in a short 2 1/2 weeks. crazy, right? but i've decided something.

my classes are picking up. i added two new ones this week, and i need to give a presentation in journal club on tuesday. i'm going to need to really buckle down in these next two and a half weeks. i need to do well. and i'm interested in this stuff, mostly. so. here i go.

i'm going to disappear for the next two and a half weeks. maybe then people will miss me enough to be really excited to see me. hopefully.

well, all i have to say is... welcome to the future.

you find your faith has been lost and shaken.

i have always had a little trouble putting a name on my faith. i was raised catholic, and still identify with that, because it's all i've ever known. but i have this analytical mind that causes me to question a lot of things about religion. so i've... well, sort of stopped identifying with a specific religion, per se. i'm a christian, and i always will be a christian. however... i don't find god at church. i've never understood that. he's everywhere. i find him everywhere.

i find him on the roads, as i drive around winston-salem. every time i see a certain kind of car, i know someone's looking out for me. i followed someone driving that kind of car through the worst part of a downpour on friday, as i traveled north to washington dc. people can call me crazy if they want to. but it's comforting to me to see these vehicles. to me, they are perseverance. they are faith in something that doesn't always make sense. isn't that what religion is?

i find him on the radio. god, in my opinion, knows what i need to hear. this morning, i needed to hear jason aldean, and that's what he played. and several times during my drive, he's played "gotta have faith" for me. and what is more fitting than that?

mostly, though, i find him in country music. i've always wondered about the people at the gathering at hope college who feel compelled to throw their hands in the air. i know it was in praise for the lord. but i never understood why they felt the need to do that. i loved the gathering, but not that much. i didn't know what to do with those people. that sounds like i'm lumping everyone together, and i apologize for that. but this weekend, i began to understand. brad paisley was onstage, and my hands went up on their own. because my faith shows its true colors in country music.

i don't know why. but i don't feel like it needs to be explained. other people find faith in church. in prayer. in the bible. in gospel music. why does this have to be any different?

country brings me back to my roots. to watching cmt in the afternoons with my daddy when i was little. to singing along with the radio while my dad worked on the house. to middle school, when i was so grossly misunderstood. to holland, when i rediscovered it when i needed to heal the most. country music revives me. it makes me believe that i can be better. it makes me laugh, and cry, and love so deeply.

this is what i'm talking about.

country is faith. country is hope. and country is love.

"you're not supposed to say the word cancer in a song. and telling folks that jesus is the answer can rub them wrong. it ain't hip to sing about tractors, trucks, little towns, and mama, yeah, that might be true. but this is country music, and we do. do you like to drink a cold one on the weekends and get a little loud? do you want to say i'm sorry or i love you, but you don't know how? do you wish somebody had the nerve to tell that stupid boss of yours to shove it, next time he yells at you? this is country music, and we do."

--> brad paisley, "this is country music"

Why grad school exams suck

An editorial by Amanda Gernentz

Maybe I was spoiled in undergrad. I loved Hope College, and it is pretty easy to see that the professors there love their students. Exams, in most classes, just seemed like a way to prove that learning had taken place. Yes, they counted for the majority of the grades earned in the courses, but there were so many ways that the professors helped the students beforehand and during. They made sure that the students were prepared. And they allowed questions, if there was confusion. Yes, I was probably spoiled at Hope College. But this is just ridiculous.

We were told that we couldn't ask the professors about the exam ahead of time. I understand that - it seemed like it hadn't been written yet until a couple of days ago. And I can see where that would get old, having to field the same questions over and over again. I'm sure a good majority of students just wanted to know what to study. However, some of us truly just wanted to know how the exam was going to be structured, and didn't care if the professors wouldn't tell us specifically what was on it. That did not matter to them - they would not even hear the questions. They gave us no indication of how it was going to be structured ahead of time. They said we could bring a calculator, and that was it. Well, cripes. That is soooo helpful. Thanks.

But none of this is the reason why I'm angry. I am angry because the proctor/professor would not field any questions during the exam either. Again, I understand that if a student does not understand a concept at this point, they are pretty much doomed. But I had a very pressing question during the exam. One of the choices was grammatically incorrect. And I mean, it was bad. I couldn't even figure out what they were trying to say. There was either an extra word or it was missing a word. Either way, I had no idea. So, I went to the front. Before I even opened my mouth, the professor proclaimed "I'm not answering any questions about the exam!" Loud enough so everyone thought I was an idiot, since he already said that. Of course. But I asked anyways. I just said "I don't need help, but there's something wrong with this question choice. It doesn't make sense." He looked at it for about half a second before saying "I don't know, do your best, sit back down." Seriously?

So I circled it. After reading through it about eight times, I'm pretty sure it had an extra word. It was a proper sentence if I took one of the words out. But I circled it and marked all over it and made sure that they knew my displeasure with their lack of proofreading. How rude. I mean, it's fine if you don't want to answer questions during the exam. I've always found that distracting anyways. But seriously. If you're going to be a stickler, at least hire a fucking copy editor so that your exam questions are grammatically correct.

Who the hell can I talk to about this? It needs to be fixed, or this grad student is going to take her English minor and petition to copy edit all exams from this day forward. Wait... can I do that? That would solve a whole slew of problems. Hmm.

Amanda is currently seething at her cubicle in the graduate student office. She has 39 minutes before she must interact with her supervisor, so hopefully she'll cool down by then. In the meantime, she's singing Eric Church's "Drink in My Hand" and wishing she had a drink in her hand.