Lindsey Muir, M.S., CF-SLP

So I graduated with my master’s degree. Yeah. Kind of a big deal. Now I really have to be a grown-up. I am done with school - at least in my foreseeable future, seeing as the thought of a Ph.D. (read “dissertation”) makes me want to cry. I would be lying if I said this prospect didn’t scare me at the beginning of my last semester, because it absolutely did. But I’ll say good-bye to the life I’ve known for the past 18 years (that of a student) and grow up, or at least pretend to. That’s surreal. It’s also terribly exciting, but don’t forget the surreal part. 

The past two years have taught me a lot. Yes, the classes have been educational, but life has been even more instructive. Here are some of the things Grad School has taught me:

-       Sometimes growing up just plain sucks, but there is a method to the madness. At least some of the time.

-       Pretty sure that now I certifiably have Movie ADD. I love movies, but I’ve arguably perfected the art of multi-tasking and have practiced mostly while “watching” movies for the past two years. Now if I sit down to watch a movie I feel like I have to be doing something else while I watch it. I’m excited and anxious to break this habit.

-       I believe in skimming. Abstracts are my best friend. Oh yes. You may be tempted to do that with this post and by all means, I won’t stop you. Skim on.

-       People matter.

-       I hate Walmart. Love Pizza, but hate Walmart.

-       Parents have this strange way of getting smarter as you/they age.

Soundtrack to Your Life

Flashback to 1994. I grew up to Saturday jobs accompanied by James Taylor, Eric Clapton, and/or my personal favorite Billy Joel. Blame it on my parents for starting me off right, but I love music.

This love has evolved over the years, but here are my recent thoughts: you know when you’re in one of those moods that you can’t quite put your finger on and in your quandary you turn some music on. Then as you listen the first song completely embodies your thoughts, emotions, unrealized dreams, expectations, etc., etc., etc. Everything in that one song. Instead of being taken back by the fierce invasion of privacy evident in the artist’s lyrics, you’re captivated. And listen to it again, taking solace in its melody.

Looking back, some phases of my life are contained within a particular song. Completely. My childhood: The whole “Return to Pooh Corner” album by Kenny Loggins. Take your pick; my life was in there. Later it was Fear Not the Wild Things by Kalai. Then a phase characterized by truths like In Repair (John Mayer); I Don’t Mind Singing (Josh Kelley); and Use Somebody (Tyrone Wells), among others. Other times, it’s just a line or stanza of a song. Here's right now: "Hard times have helped me see, I'm a good [wo]man, with a good heart." Shadow Days (John Mayer). 

Hi, I'm Lindsey.

I'm a grad student. I'm a Californian. And I'm a Mormon.
http://mormon.org/me/7ZZS/

I'm Bloody Right-handed!

You know how you never fully appreciate something until it’s gone?

Let me testify:

Yesterday I went on a bike ride along the boardwalk from about 30^th street in Newport Beach to Balboa. It was great, as imagined. The only thing I would change about the adventure was when I found a porch wall and lost the better part of my right middle fingernail, rendering my right hand temporarily useless. Arguably not one of my brighter moments, but proudly, one of my braver moments - the person I was riding with didn’t even stop (didn't need to) and had no idea how bad my finger was until we got home and I sheepishly asked for a band-aid.

I never realized how right-handed I really am. You know those people who are kind of naturally ambidextrous? Yeah. I’m not one of them. I’m bloody right-handed, both literally and emphatically right now. This whole not really being able to use my right hand is not okay with me. This fingernail better not take the year to heal that some sources say it will.

Let’s defy the odds, or at least the bandages.

In Living Color

Earlier this week I met with a doctor for the first time, and shortly into the visit he started to ask me the general, I’ve heard them a million times, questions. So, to speed things up, in a very efficient, matter-of-fact way, I gave him the run-down of my life. I guess you could say I felt accomplished as I rattled off the details of my life. But in the end, it was strange, or at least, I feel strangely about it.

This got me thinking and here's what I've come up with:

Sometimes the chronology of my life surprises me, but I wouldn’t change it, even if I could. However, I don’t like to be limited to the black and white of the spoken word, or in this case, the ink on my medical chart. Yes, those things undoubtedly contribute to who I am, but they do not fully explain me.

I decidedly will not be limited to a list of characteristics, or events for that matter; however, I will end with one of my favorite, true, black and white statements about me: I’m a survivor.

Backstreet's Back, Alright.

So I graduated college. NBD. As a recent college graduate, I went with my friend (also a recent college graduate) to perhaps the most epic concert of our lives: the NKOTBSB concert (code for New Kids On The Block and Backstreet Boys) at the Staples Center in L.A..

Oh yes. It wasn’t as cool as imagined. It was even better.

After the openers finally finished, New Kids on the Block and Backstreet Boys stormed the stage and captured the hearts of all women (and the few (whipped) men) in the audience. The setup was perfect. There was a main stage, a catwalk, and then a smaller, secondary stage. NKOTB and BSB took turns on each of the stages and were choreographed into the perfect battle of the bands.

The concert was epic in every possible way. I mean, what’s not to love about boys (more appropriately now, men) singing in harmony, dancing in unison, and hamming it up to the ladies? I dare any woman with a soul, and a warm, beating heart, to go watch a boy band and not melt a little bit inside, or go just a little weak in the knees. I just don’t think it’s humanly, or in this case, womanly, possible.

Which leads me to possibly my favorite moment of the night: Shortly after both boy bands got on stage and started singing, the perfect girlish squeal escaped my friend’s lips. Yes. It was glorious and it vocalized all the torrent of teenage hormones raging inside my not-13-year old body.

Towards the end of the show, Kevin (the oldest member of the original group, who left the band in 2006 to "pursue other interests") magically appeared on one of the stages and happily all of the Backstreet Boys did a few songs as an entire group before the concert officially ended. So now, the Backstreet Boys can fade into my memory as a complete, never tainted boy band.

After experiencing all of it, it's really hard for me to pick a favorite song from the concert. Naturally, being a child of the ‘90s, I already knew and loved BSB, so my favorite song from the concert has to be one of theirs, not the before-my-time New Kids. This narrows the choices, but still leaves me a plethora of worthy options. The Boys would start singing a song and I would realize what I felt I had been missing my entire life and they were now reminding me of, leaving me feeling momentarily satisfied. Until the next song that I had forgotten about and was again blissfully reminded of… With that cycle in mind, I think the happiest, most memorable reminder for me was Drowning.

In the end, here are the things the concert accomplished for me:

- Previously my ‘New Kids On The Block’ exposure consisted of the LFO song “Every Other Time’, with the oh-so-famous line, “New Kids On The Block had a bunch of hits, Chinese food makes me sick…”. Now I’ve heard them sing some of those hits.

- It made the 13-year old inside of me so insanely happy.

- Most importantly, the middle-schooler inside of me can now die a happy woman (Okay. Okay. A happy girl).

Divinely Creative

God is such a creative Being.

I was in Church one day learning about Jonah and it struck me how creative God is. The symbolism in Jonah's story is rather striking. But what really hit me that day (and obviously continues to hit me) is that God realized Jonah needed to be taught some lessons and in order to accomplish that (and His ultimate design) he essentially thought, “Let’s have Jonah get swallowed by a whale for three days”. Okay. Probably not the first thing that would come to my mind. Or the second. Or even at all. Yet I don't doubt the wisdom in the decision at all.

This idea provides interesting perspective on my own life. While I have yet to be swallowed by a whale, or any animal for that matter, what other Jonah-like stories have I had, if any? What about you?

Really?

I have grown up with people spelling my name wrong. Strangely enough, it’s happened to me more as an adult than as a child, but regardless, it’s never been a foreign concept to me. And while the concept is not inconceivable* to me, it still manages to take me by surprise sometimes.

Take facebook for example. Someone wrote me a love note on my wall, and spelled my name wrong. Yeah, I definitely had to look twice. It was recognizable, but blatantly spelled wrong. So I figure either it’s some inside joke/nickname that I have absolutely no recollection of, or it was written in a hurry while juggling/balancing on a tight rope/multi-tasking like crazy. Let’s give him/her the benefit of the doubt, shall we?

Another one that gets me – when people email me and spell my name wrong. My email address is my name. Essentially they are one in the same. So how can you successfully send me an email (remain oblivious to that spelling red flag) and proceed to spell my name wrong in the body of the email? It boggles the mind.

* p.s. I dare you to think of the word ‘inconceivable’ and not think of Vizzini in “Princess Bride”.