The Pauli Exclusion Principle: Lunchtime Edition

 Let's say you walk into the cafeteria in the Wilkinson Center at BYU. It seems to be sorta crowded, so you look around for a seat. Out of the maybe 30 tables in the room, not one of them is totally empty. Therefore, despite that there are probably a hundred open chairs... you take NONE of them.

It seems, dear friends, that humanity has regressed to following principles of physics previously thought relevant only to subatomic particles. Specifically, the Pauli Exclusion Principle, which states that no two electrons with the same spin may occupy the same atomic orbital.

So according to the Pauli Exclusion Principle, when finding a seat in a sorta-crowded cafeteria, you MAY NOT sit at ANY table which already has an occupant of your same "spin"--in this case being the antisocial attitude of not wanting to get to know ANYONE, make new friends, or be a respectable, decent human being. Isn't it wonderful!? Instead, you must turn away from the cafeteria, feeling forever alone (because you are) and walk outside to an unoccupied bench or stretch of grass to eat your grub in peace. :)

Granted, there are several benefits of following the Pauli Exclusion Principle in the macro world. For one, it defends our delusional antisocial tendencies to not make contact with any unknown human being and thus preserve our not-so-macho dignity. Because, you know, why on earth would we want to sit next to someone at a lunch table and make a new friend? It sounds completely ridiculous, right? And it's all thanks to our decision to follow the Pauli Exclusion Principle as if we were brainless subatomic particles. Easier than being FRIENDLY, right?!!

Three cheers to human stupidity and to the Pauli Exclusion Principle!

I think I'm in love with my instrument.

Isn't that beautiful!? I love it. I listened to it like 5 times in a row and decided I MUST play this!
Also, you can tell you're really in love with a song when you want every one and their pet fish to listen to it. :) Thus, I will post it on my blog even though I have nothing else meaningful to say in addition. (but I WILL soon once I'm finished with my thoughts as of late; promise :))

Peace out!

Priceless Resolutions

I've never been big on New Year's Resolutions. Not because I have some complex with the idea of striving for a goal for an entire year with the possibility and reality of failure staring me in the face, but because I just don't think about it. I've never really wanted to sit down and write some New Year's Resolutions, but today I feel differently.

In retrospect, 2012 was a great year for me. It held so many exciting firsts and thrilling moments. It held love and it held heartbreak, it held the excitement of graduating and moving out, my first semester at BYU. It held a variety of different learning experiences and so many priceless moments I can't even count.

I hope 2013 will be even bigger. I'll be continuing with another semester, playing in Synthesis and touring to Brazil, turning in my papers and going on a mission--it will be my first Christmas away from home but yet the experience of a lifetime. I will grow so much. And that growth will mean more than any accomplishment of 2012. The years just keep getting better.

And so, without further ado, Goals I have for 2013: ("resolutions," if you will. Guys this is big, and a first)

* Continually strive to become the woman my future husband wants to marry
* No wallowing in self-pity.
* "Wherever you are, be there."
* Give it my all.
* Give Him my all in service

And finally, my motto for 2013:
don't just have priceless moments, be priceless.

Let's do this.

* * *

I wish there was one word, just one word, that could perfectly describe everything going on. That could encompass every feeling of love or joy or heartbreak that ever occurred. That could sum everything up simply, yet completely, that I could whisper to myself late at night and calm my remaining fears. That I could shout at my whizzing mind that usually keeps busy concocting all sorts of dreams and counter-realities that are all-the-more-favorable to my own, one word to silence all of that. One word to explain all the guilt, all the pain, all the sorrow, all the regret, all the wishing, and all the hoping that somehow never dies. One word to put the rest to rest.

I only wish such a word existed. For if it did, I would never stop saying it. And the breath it would take could make all the ashes from our poor, burnt hearts fly far, far, away to where we could never again see them. We could never again remember. We would never hurt, never fear, never long, and never hope for anything more. We would simply be.