Moving on.

It’s hard to know when you’ve grown out of things. It’s hard to judge sometimes whether those favorite shoes still fit or reading a certain genre of books still does you well.

It’s even harder to know when you’re creating it.

 

I’ve grown out of this blog. I love the platform it has provided me to think, but I want a little more. I haven’t written for months now, lacking things to say on the narrow topic of what I set this blog to be about. When I was writing frequently, I was dissatisfied that I couldn’t always write what I was thinking, given it deviated too much from the slim idea of what I had thought this blog would be.

 

Therefore, given the above, I created and am working on creating a new platform: another blog, another title, another theme. If you want to see, I’ve just barely started writing over here, at Books and Biology.

 

Nothing may ever truly end, but I’m stopping writing for this blog. Growing up, out around. I’m happy to be moving on.

If you want to keep reading my writing, I’ll be at http://www.booksandbiology.com, slowly creating a new place.

Thanks for reading.

All the best,

Nicole

Role Models, and Friends.

 

My thoughts have been wandering a lot lately. Perhaps it’s due to the busyness – planning Earth Day, juggling school and barn, etc – but maybe it’s just me. I’ve realized more than ever the importance of having people I look up to, and people I care about in my life. It seems really small, and really normal, but I’ve come in the past few days to really appreciate the people in my life, and those not in my life but who play a role none the less.

Vulnerability (+TED Talks).

Do you know the feeling of palpable emotions? When what you’re feeling hangs so thickly in the air you can almost touch it? Do you know the feeling of standing next to someone radiating that energy? Like standing next to a space heater or air conditioner, happy or sad respectively, invigorating or cooling down conversation? There’s one palpable feeling no one seems to talk about – vulnerability.

It’s not fear, not anger, not sadness, not hurt. It’s something else entirely. Vulnerability. Putting yourself out there for the other person to see, or to cloud up the air in a room by yourself with no one there. Not weakness, but hope. Being willing to fail and willing to succeed.

In Response to Failure.

How many times have I been told, “Don’t be afraid to fail!” or “Don’t worry about messing up!”? Many, many more than I can count. Perhaps that comes from my obsessive, bordering on compulsive perfectionist nature, or the fact that people, particularly my teachers, want an antidote to that nature. Yet “don’t be afraid to fail” doesn’t seem to help me, and seems like it never will.

Pictures and Travel: Spain

I’d mentioned in a previous post that I had traveled abroad over break, and I thought I’d share a couple snapshots (with a little commentary, of course).

 

One Curious Incident

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? A looooong while. I could say I’ve been busy on spring break (traveling abroad, browsing cookbooks, knitting, reading tons, etc.), and you could believe me if you so choose. You don’t have to, though. I read enough in the meantime that I have a lot to write about.

 

 

 

Let’s get better together.

Well, for those who may not understand the title (AKA most of the world), I just finished Atul Gawande’s book Better. And if I wasn’t already considering medicine as a possible profession, here he goes, both oddly convincing me and pushing me away from it simultaneously. Somehow. That’s just what happens with this book. Really great book in general. But I can’t tell if I’m encouraged or discouraged by it.

(Yes, I was reading this sitting on my bed. And yes, I was too lazy to get up to get my camera and photograph someplace else. That’s this afternoon, in a nutshell.)

Mail Day and the Near Future

Today was mail day.

 

 

Poignancy of the Poor: The Incredible Frank McCourt

I try to read a variety of kinds of books, though I am not always successful. I read fiction, and I’m just getting into really good fiction, considering most of what I come across is pretty fluffy. I read nonfiction, some “straight-up” and some creative nonfiction. I read autobiographies and memoirs, like The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks or Mindy Kaling’s or Gail Simmons’ or any number of other books by people I admire and adore.

I had fallen in love with Angela’s Ashes when I read it last January for the first time. It both enticed me and repulsed me, which is completely possible in a book, no doubt. This January I reread it for what seemed like the first time in ages. My goal had been to read ‘Tis and take it off my “To Read” shelf, but in order to do so, rereading the first book was key. I was surprised by my quite neutral reaction to the first book and emotional reaction to the second, given that I had loved the first one so much before. Such is the genius of Frank McCourt.

If Mindy Kaling Ran the World….

If Mindy Kaling ran the world, then…

• there would be no cockroaches
• teenage girls would carry her picture in their purses and use it for style advice
• book covers would all be colorful and decorative
• actresses would not all be sample sizes
• the most beautiful dresses would be in sizes six to twelve
• there would be a string of best-selling novels based off the revenge fantasies she has while jogging
• the public would torture Rainn Wilson for her
• and so on and so forth

In the seventh grade, my friends Div and Louise wanted to run the world. They said I could be their royal advisor. That is probably as close as I have come to world royalty. Yet why am I thinking of this? Particularly of Mindy Kaling running the world? Oh yeah, I just reread her autobiography Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns).