"What?  Okay, so I was really bummed out when I woke up this morning because I remembered yesterday very differently.  I thought that everything was reflective of my actual self and my actual values, but whoa, no, that is not accurate of who I am.  I actually woke up feeling depressed because I thought I was realizing how awful I truly am."

"No, you're just a total bitch when you're drunk.  That was awful."

So this is what it's like to dip my toes into cold waters, and then be instantaneously driven away by it.

I have no pedestal.

I have not been taken down a few notches nor have I been kicked down a few pegs, because there are no notches, and there are no pegs.

I don't know how so many bad things can happen in the span of eight days.  I don't know just how much my entire world can be torn apart.  All of my foundations.  I don't know how I'm making so many errors.  I don't know how far I've fallen off the beaten path, but I'm lost, and I currently feel like there's no way to get back.  I've been losing opportunities, I've been losing friends, I've been taken advantage of, I've been making rookie mistakes, I've been losing respect, I've been losing trust, I've been losing love, I've been cast into shadows.  Everything I have believed in, everything that I have pursued, everything that I have established is all falling apart.  All within eight days.  Everything in life just feels wrong.  Everything in life just feels wrong.

I want to give up.

I feel like I am on the threshold of relapse, and I want to say the usual, "I'm so scared of relapse.  I'm so afraid right now."

But I'm not.

I just want to give up.

Friday the 13th met all expectations.

I find it extremely rewarding when I have excellent days on Friday the 13th - it makes me feel like I'm sticking it to the man!  Not today.  Today, the man was keeping me down.  

There were many bright, joyful moments that served as valuable helpings of silver lining.  But it's less effective when the mind is so ridden with turmoil.  It's difficult quantifying how stressful and exhausting things have been, especially when I realize that I've only been back in Merced for five days.

'What the flip, if I'm going through this much after only five days back, how in the hell am I going to survive the next five months?'

It got a little overboard, so I just packed all of my things and spontaneously ran for it.  I'm now at the beautiful leisure of being away from everything in Merced, even if it's only for one day.  I just need to gather myself and mentally prepare myself for the upcoming semester.

And I'm expecting it to be a bitch.

Meanwhile, a novel experience with merit for documentation via Xanga: Events tonight included - first time at a bar was also my first time getting hit on at a bar!

"So now you're just going to leave without getting my number? That's how it is?"
"Yep!  That's how it is.  Bye, man."
Then I walked away with a wink. 

Ha! 

I regressed.

It is a crime that I was hesitant to even realize, let alone admit.  I have retracted to a previous state of myself -- an inferior state of myself.

It finally became tangible during one of today's lab protocols.  At my level, I should not be committing rookie mistakes.  I am going to be presenting my research at a national conference to faculty from around the world.  I have excelled past the level of independent protocols; I am beginning to assist in the actual design of experiments.  I am going to conduct my own complete stem cell project.  Thousands of dollars and months of labor will be trusted in my hands.

And somehow, during the crux of a novel analysis technique, a technique placed in my able hands, I forgot to wet the Wet Staining Chamber.  It's in the name.

It's in the name.

Failure is still fresh.  I might have lost our goddamn stain, or even worse, our samples.  I'm not going to find out until tomorrow.

I got so frustrated with myself.  There are excusable errors, and then there's forgetting to add water to the Wet Chamber.  I lost focus.  My head was light and my breathing was shallow.  My technique became rushed and inconsistent, my hands started shaking, and then it happened.  I lost another fucking sample.  I heaved a sigh when my post-doc gave me that look -- the look where he audibly feigns understanding, but in his eyes, there is disappointment.

Disappointment.

It felt so familiar.  Disappointment.  I didn't know why the taste felt so familiar.  Why did the taste of disappointment feel so familiar?

And I realized it was everything.  It was everything.  I've regressed.  I went to the PCR room and punched the wall in tears.

I'm no soldier without a country, I'm no warrior without a cause.  I'm no free spirit without ties, I'm no rock.  This is no feat of strength.  I am not some fearless superwoman that cannot be tamed.

This is cowardice.  This is numbness.  This is not moving without missing a beat.  This is not pushing forward without losing a step.  This is falling back to the same demons, this is losing myself to apathy and nonchalance.

I used to stand for more than this.  This is everything I sought to get away from.

I realized it, and I washed in disappointment.  

At my level, I should not be committing rookie mistakes.

I have to turn it around.

But I wish I could have realized this two days ago. 

Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying.

- Maroon 5, How

-+-

"Ha, that's right! Happy birthday!"

-+-

I am currently sustaining on sunshine, and sunshine alone.

Despite my genuine adoration for the town, nearly every single worry and anxiety that I have harbored about returning to Merced has already been met, and I've been back for only one day.  It almost makes a girl want to take a break, or even take a tumble, but only almost.  Just almost.

Fortunately, the weather has been beautiful, and it's been impossible to fight the smiles that accompany my return to research.  It was extremely rewarding to see the expressions on everyone's faces when we first made eye contact.  It's a heartwarming mix of smiles and surprise that can only be described as, "Christa's back!!"  This is my silver lining. 

I need to focus on my lab work, I need to focus on my research, because this is my silver lining.  There is always a silver lining, even when hope everywhere else feels lost.  I have to remember that.  I have to remember that, because if I don't, then I don't know what I'm going to do.

Is putting yourself out there really worth it when you regret it this much?  At first, I felt like I conquered.  And now, nothing's the same.  I'm going to have to acknowledge that I destroyed something beautiful, with wounds that may prove irreparable.  Something that I thought was going to last forever, something that was so amazing that it could last a lifetime, is already so obviously fading, and that's my fault.  It just doesn't feel like it was worth it, to ruin a fantastic friendship just because I thought I could put my heart out there, because it doesn't feel like I simply lost something.  I feel like I came upon the most majestic painting in the halls of a marble museum, the most beautiful brushstrokes that I have ever seen in my life, and then promptly tore it down, and threw it away.

Among the things that I've learned since the Old Life ended, it's that life does not allow me to be comfortable.  So I should have known better when the restlessness faded, that it was overdue to return.  I should have known better than to have expectations for myself, to have any other expectation than the constant overcoming of hardship.  I should have learned by now, that until the stars finally congregate and agree to give me mercy, that I will always be fighting lions.  But stars are merciless.  They are fiery infernos that are set on defeating me.

Yet, I have to make myself move without skipping a beat, because this is the way that I function.  These pages, these words are the only places where I can allow myself to compromise my strength.  I have to revert back to the formulas, the equations, to the faith in coincidence, the faith that I am on a path, because I can't visualize how I'm going to forgive myself otherwise.  I fall into regress and have to lock my heart away, because right now, I can't imagine putting myself through this again.  It just doesn't feel worth it.

But, I am also strung on the hope that all of my ramblings are based on the freshness of wounds.  There are undertones of, 'Girl, this shit was just two days ago.  You gonna yourself together, mmhmm.  You two gonna be alright, mMmMmhmm.'  Right now it's hard to distinguish between wounds that will heal within days and weeks, or scars that will last forever.

"It's going to get harder."

Fuck.  I should've believed you.

I wish you also shared when it would get easier.

[Edit, 1/9/12, 10:30 PM] I actually feel better now since I wrote this.  It's been less than half an hour and I've already been fluctuating between feeling better and worse.  Can I just cop out and blame everything on PMSing?  Females, amirite? [/Edit]

Everyday's like talking in your sleep --
love is like a silhouette in dreams!

- Kimbra, Cameo Lover 

-+-

I'm normally ecstatic every year for my birthday, but I've just been extremely nonchalant towards my birthday this year overall.  It seemed strange at first, because I truly adore birthdays; every time a birthday happens around me, I'm just all giggles.

It was difficult to articulate it for a while, but it was like I just didn't seem to... need it this year.  I didn't need a day to remind me of how loved I am, because I already get that everyday.  Every smile that I inspire is a testament to that.  I don't need a day dedicated to me to remind me of that.  I know that I'm loved.  So this year, I made no plans for my birthday other than the resolve to spend it with my parents this year, in light of barely visiting home since last June.  Even that, in all of its simplicity, was planned passively.  

Regardless, there was celebration and love all the same, and I feel blessed for that.

The one present that I asked my parents for: eos brand lip balm.  Not only is it round and therefore cute (that's how it works, right?), but the size of it is absolutely perfect for practicing my muscle memory for cell culture technique -- "Must open with left hand only!  If cap touches lip balm, then epic fail -- I might as well just contaminate all of my stem cells right now!"

-+-

I have a bruise.

I stood there, at the edge of the world, and I left with a bruise.

I don't know when it became midnight.  I don't know what was happening when the clock ventured into the small hours, and it was suddenly my birthday.  I'm not sure if I was 20 or 21 when I pulled the trigger of an irreversible chain reaction.  I've never been good with timing, in more ways than one.

My persistent fallacy is that whenever I accomplish one feat of strength, I suddenly perceive myself as an impenetrable fortress.  If I'm not crying on the drive home, if I can muster the courage to put my heart on the line, then I must be doing something right.  I should have known better by now.  After everything I've ever been through, I should've known better by now.  I thought that because I endured the force of impact, all was fated to remain absolutely stunning.  

I fell asleep peacefully, and I could even almost convince myself that the world never stopped turning.  That the stars never held their breath, sitting at the edges of their seats, waiting impatiently for the next scene.

When I woke up three hours later, it hit me like a hangover.  I opened my eyes, and what used to rest (albeit anxiously) in a cavity within my chest, was strewn across the floor, gasping dearly for breath and for the comforts of caution.  I awoke as if fresh from a dream.  I stared at the stippled paint of my apartment roof, my mind cycling on a constant replay.  When I discovered that the sutures had been torn out of my chest, I picked up my heart off the floor, and found its flesh welted into deep shades of indigo, punctated by spots of navy.

Since the end of the Old Life, my heart has always been far too ambitious to come home unscathed.  But this time, it was so much greater than just intact.  It was cracked and peeled open, its fissures still stinging from their unfamiliarity to the overwhelming sensations of vulnerability.  And that's far more poignant to me than a heart left whole and untouched, because that is a heart that doesn't hold back.  That is a heart that has given its everything, regrets and all.

It's been more than a year since I've been that vulnerable.  That breathless fear, that beat before the jump.  In the last year, including The Break, including the waves of depression, including this amazing journey of ambition and inspiration, I've never been so vulnerable with another person as when I clutched to cotton and cried out the words, "I'm not losing my best friend for this, am I?"

When I held my bruised heart in my hand, it was still feebly whimpering from its exposure.  Hours later, it was still coming to the realization that the dream that I woke from was not a dream at all.  I reassured it, "You've been through this before.  Don't sweat it so much.  You already know how this will end.  You're already aware that you are only heading in amazing directions.  You're going to be fine."

Yet, it was still rattled.  It was like a child, asking me to cradle its head, to soothe its fears of heartbreak and failure.  Its fears of loss and hurt.

Perhaps before, I would have entertained it.  But, I'm in the New Life now.  I'm no longer that girl that spends weeks, months, years, just sitting idly on lingering hopes, settling for stagnation -- which is exactly why I propelled myself into momentum now.  If there is anything that I know now, it is that I am not one to coddle my heart anymore.  I move without a drop in momentum, and it becomes up to my heart to pick itself up by its bootstraps.  As much as it hurt to say it this time around, I repeated the old, comforting mantra, "There will always be someone else."  

The colors of the twilight hour are still beautiful, and the sharpness of crisp morning air still invigorates the soul.  The world is still beautiful, if not moreso than before, because it is now washed over in clarity.

Someday, I'll be able to properly appreciate the immense relief that is still partially hindered by the freshness of this bruise.  Just like the last time this happened to me, my every perspective has simply been whitewashed and resketched with vibrant shades of platonic love and ideals.  There is no loss in value, and there is no loss in importance.  There are just... no more questions.  Mixed signals simply do not and cannot exist anymore, and I am extremely thankful for that clarity.  This has nullified all of my internal conflict; now, I can just pursue this friendship wholeheartedly for what it is, has been, and will hopefully remain to be: legendary.  

Bruises fade.  

I'm ready to press on.

Through it all, one conversation cycles through my head.

"I'm very dependent on the notion that no matter what happens to my heart, my heart can heal."
"You're not afraid of the pain during the interim?"
"I am. I always am. But it's always worth it."

Always.

Congratulations!

We are happy to announce that your abstract submission, "Differentiation of Insulin-Producing Cell Clusters from Mouse Embryonic Stem Cells," was approved for presentation for NCUR 2012 at Weber State University. Chosen from more than 3,500 submissions, your abstract demonstrates a unique contribution to your field of study and we are pleased to offer you the opportunity to present your work to your peers, faculty, and staff from around the world.

We look forward to seeing you in Ogden at NCUR 2012!

Sincerely,

The NCUR 2012 Abstract Review Committee

tl;dr: YES! to what will hopefully grow into a long string of research-related acceptance letters!

The magic spell you cast --
this is la vie en rose.

- Louis Armstrong, La Vie En Rose

For me, "La Vie En Rose," namely the Louis Armstrong version, is just like the color blue.  

I never made a mental decision that blue was my favorite color -- it ambushed me when I realized that I was subconsciously maximizing the amount of cyan, cerulean, and navy in my life.  It was a color that I didn't pick, but rather, I realized.  Likewise, I never picked "La Vie En Rose."  I realized it.  It ambushed me as I suddenly had an epiphany, "...This is my favorite song."

When I told my sister one day, she was not surprised in the least.  After all, when she was in France, she got me a palm-sized music box that plays "La Vie En Rose," knowing how much I adore the song.

"This is the one song that never fails to make me swoon.  Every single time." 

-+-

After a satisfying meal, we began to make our way out of the restaurant to proceed with the adventures of the rest of the day.

However, as I got out of my seat, I knocked over a box of spoons and chopsticks.  Every last utensil mercilessly crashed to the floor, and all eyes were on me.  Joeve helped me pick them off the floor, as both of us repeatedly told the owner, "Sorry!  Sorry!"

The entire time, Daniel watched us.  I looked up, and I was confused to see no look of shame, nor was he shaking his head in embarrassment.  As we walked out, with nine years of friendship under our belts, he simply told me, "I thought, 'Hm, maybe Christa really has changed -- new makeup, new clothes, new contacts, new everything.'  But no, Christa.  You're still exactly the same."

I filled with warmth.

That's love right there.

-+-

I came out of the dressing room, absolutely ecstatic, "JOEVE. JOEVE, I LIKE THIS SWEATER. I LIKE IT."  

For decades -- no, for centuries -- I would shake my head on animal print as a life option.  But this was a fairly fresh take on cheetah print.  A cozy, soft mixture of navy and heather gray.  It looked quaint on me.

After we met a mutual agreement that I looked adorable as hell, she eventually threw back her head in laughter, telling me, "Oh Christa, go change!"

As I got back into the room, I quickly admitted, "Yeah, Joeve.  I usually can never pull off animal print.  I just can't pull off hot.  I can pull off pretty.  But I can't pull off hot."

After the all-too-familiar 'lol wtf' pause, she gave me a big hug, "Ha!  Christa, this is why I love you."

I closed the door to Joeve replaying the conversation in her head and repeating, with undertones of disbelief at my ridiculosity (and at my perpetual insistence that "ridiculosity" is a word), "Oh, Christa.  I love you."

This is the stuff that BFF's are made of.  We shaped each other's childhoods, and more than seven years after I moved away from San Jose, they still drive up to Sacramento every January to spend my birthday with me.  Especially with Joeve, it never matters how many months or years it's been since we've last seen each other.  There is no such thing as a fall in momentum between us.  We are completely blind to the concept, and we plan to keep it that way.

Between bowling frames, spoonfuls of ice cream, and meanderings through stores in the mall, they received my rants on Current Topics in Christa's Life, while I quickly became the bunt of Daniel's snarky comebacks.  And as much as I truly appreciate an objective voice in all of my decision-making and my ramblings, one of Joeve's adorably endearing qualities is that she always blatantly and unabashedly chooses my side.  It never matters what the situation is.  The second anyone becomes an inconvenience to me, in any form or magnitude, Joeve gets morally pissed.  

I initially got befuddled, very, "Joeve, I didn't even say that much!" and Daniel added, "Joeve, you don't even know the other side of the story!  For all you know, Christa's just been full of lies!"

I shot Daniel a 'wait, what' look, while Joeve, with the absolutely most bitter face, went, "I DON'T CARE.  You really think I'm going to side with this person?  Of course I'm going to take Christa's side, C'MON NOW."

I let the unconditional nature of that statement permeate through me, before proclaiming, "JOEVE, YOU'RE SO FREAKIN' CUTE."

When we finished the day, I was already able to cross off one of my off-road New Year's Resolutions off the list, only four days into the new year -- bowl over a 140!  (Me as I wrote that blog post: "Uh.. that's kind of a silly resolution to advertise, let me just.." *backspace*)  Managed a 142 with a stunning turkey in the last frame!  

And as we were bowling, I propelled myself onto a journey full of both anxiety and resolve.  I was habitually running my fingers along the side of our communal styrofoam soda cup, when Joeve reassured me, "Yeah, Christa. I say ... Go for it."  

The graduated cylinder in my head eventually broke, full of cracks irreparable, and now I'm left wondering what to do with the mess I've made.

Until then, I am now one Christmas bear richer, and one step closer to pulling off animal print, although still stagnant as ever in pulling off hot.

Damn good day.

It's impossible to ask me to articulate the sound of a heartbeat.

I will skirt around the answer, instead describing to you the nuances of cardiac cells.  I will describe their release of autoinducers to evoke a signaling pathway to activate beating.  I will illustrate to you the blood flow through atria and ventricles.  I will tell you that the two primary heart sounds, caused by the opening and closing of heart valves, are described as S1 and S2, and are supplemented by physiological murmurs and gallop rhythms.

Yet in my mind, my thoughts dance over the warmth of fingers resting in the palm of my hand, tracing slow spirals on my skin, as my cheek presses against the resistance of sternum.  Silhouettes are cast by moonlight, and the last priority on my mind is the physiological scheme behind every rise and fall.

The needle touches the track, and its gentle whispers play on.

Th-thump.  Th-thump.  Th-thump.

-+-

Outside of my fiery ambitions within the scopes of academia and professionalism, my aspiration is to want for nothing.  It is to waste not a single thought on myself.

I reached a fork in the road, where my shoulders shook with the heaviness of my heart and of my kindness.  My knees buckled under the weight, and I was forced to choose only one.

At the place where the sun meets the horizon, I left my heart behind.

If I never find my answers, that means nothing to me, if it means that you'll find yours.

Heart -- I'm sending back for you.  Hold on, this is going to be a bumpy ride!