WE GRADUATED!

After four long years, I finally did it. I graduated from BYU with an undergraduate degree in public relations, communications. 

How can a simple two-hour ceremony close such a monumental chapter in my life? The fact that I have a degree and a few pictures in the royal blue cap and gown doesn’t quite give me the assurance that I have actually finished this thing called “school.” It never really ends. The tests, the peer reviews, the case studies, the long hours spent cramming for tests, the job interviews, the hot bike rides to campus, the boy drama, the apartment hysterias, etc. 

How?

I definitely finished my undergrad with a bang—accounting is really a shot to the heart. As I was in the midst of applying/interviewing for jobs, working two part-time positions, and figuring out this little thing called love, I was attempting to excel in accounting. Okay, not really excel, but do relatively well.

Boy, did I pass by the skin of my teeth. It’s safe to say accounting was a love-hate relationship: I loved what I was learning but I didn’t appreciate the pace and manner in which the material was required to be mastered. 

Rough. Let’s just say the bike ride home after the three-hour final (two days prior to graduation) never felt so good.

The funny thing is, I don’t feel relieved. I only feel a little bit sad. But even more than that sadness of nostalgia, I came to the realization that my longing for education exists and is thriving more than ever...

I haven’t been graduated for more than two days, and I already have my eyes set on getting a master’s (November 1^st).

Life is funny. Sometimes it’s so funny I find myself missing the joke, asking my neighbor, "What was that?"

One thing I have learned these past few years (that don’t seem so few):

·          Learning is wonderful. 

      Find what you love and do it. Wise words from a mentor of mine, “Do what you love. No matter what it is, you will find a way to make money—enough money.” Because all of my interests (non-profit, social work, humanitarian efforts, teaching) all seem to be less treasured by society (at least financially), I worried about studying the things that make me excited. ---> stop worrying and start learning. Everything will work out. Passion is the driving force for success. Stop searching for practicality—in some regards—and start doing things you enjoy.

Though I don't have a cent to my name (literally). No wonderful job offer at an amazing PR firm. No place to call home. I have an education and a dream for my future. 

My Graduation day>>

It was a dream. I have the most lovely family. They are so supportive and loving in all that they do. It is safe to say that I am a product of their loving hands and minds. 

8:00am ceremony

"Is this real life?"

I rode my bike to graduation ^^^

Rachel graduating!!!

I have the most wonderful support system! 

I cannot believe how far we have come. We started preschool together, now look at us, graduates from a wonderful university.

I owe much of who I am and what I have accomplished to my grandparents. The chances that two angels marry is rare-->they are one of a kind. 

Me and one of my favorite couples.

I love my family! They are the reason I am wearing blue. So rather, to make it a more truthful statement, I should've started this post:

"We (my parents, my grandparents, my sisters, and friends) graduated!!"

Something Scary

I did something scary this weekend.

A conversation that happens weekly:

Nick: (thinking about mountain biking, his bike, mountain trails) Ah, I love biking. Chelsea, will you go biking with me this week?

Chelsea: Ugh, sorry I can't (hurry, think of an excuse), I need to do accounting homework (or another arbitrary excuse).

Nick: Okay, but you have to come with me this summer.

Chelsea: Yeah, yeah I will (quickly brush aside the conversation without any intention of bringing it up again).

-->This has been an ongoing battle.

Finally, after abusing all my excuses, we drove up to Mueller Park Canyon (supposedly an easy trail) to bike up to the notorious Elephant Rock.

Preface: I attempted to hike Elephant Rock six years ago, which unfortunately turned into a six-hour survival hike that left us itchy, bleeding (literally), and exhausted--never to venture again. Little did I know, six years from then I would be conquering one of my biggest fears in tears and sweat.

I am terrified of wheels on gravel. Although fears are not logical, this fear is! I have flipped, tipped, and flopped every machine I was told "wouldn't do anything of the sort." Needless to say, I don't trust anyone when my life is sitting on a set of wheels.

Second preface: Nicholas is a really, really good biker. He has invested hours fixing his bike and discovering trails that give him the biggest adrenaline rush. He definitely is a boy (or man) in every aspect of the word regarding biking.

Luckily, Nick's mother let me borrow her mountain bike so my little hybrid wouldn't slip everywhere.

Then off we went at the crack of noon (hot!).

The actual workout was wonderful. My heart was beating and I was sweating; I like sweating. However, the actual process of going over little and big rocks and around tight corners and over skinny bridges and underneath hanging trees was difficult for me. I literally let out a sigh of relief after every corner, grateful I wasn't yet dead.

The continual looks of encouragement and are-you-sure-you-know-what-you're-doing faces from descending hikers left me feeling even more self-conscious than I already was.

It was an hour of uphill pedaling. Needless to say I was going slow--in fact a runner passed me and finished down the mountain before Nick and I did-->that should put things into perspective. My heart was racing more out of fear than it was from exhaustion. I often hopped off my bike, tearing my favorite pants in the process, to walk around the deadly corners covered by ticking time bombs waiting to kill me at any moment--okay, they were rocks, but to me they might as well have been poisonous snakes for all I cared.

After what seemed an eternity of me escaping near death experiences at every bend, I finally asked Nick how far this Elephant Rock was...He pointed across two mountain peaks and said it's over there.

What!?! HALF WAY!?!

I bit my lip to keep from crying. I started pedaling again, wobbling and staggering around the next corner. Then it came, tears. My eyes swelled up with tears, my lungs now in a shortage of breath. I didn't want Nick to notice, so I fell even further behind, trying to wipe my eyes on my sleeve without crashing into the trees hugging the path on either side.

Nick knows me well. He stopped just ahead of a bend and waited for me. He wanted to turn around because he could see how miserable I was. No sir. I refuse. I bit my lip to keep my eyes from watering and to mask any kind of discomfort (though it was far from discrete) I was in at the time. I wanted to prove that I could bike with him. After he realized he was not going to win the battle, we continued onward.

We made it to the top, in one piece, fortunately. We sat on top of THE Elephant Rock to let my heart calm down. He apologized for dragging me up there, though there was definitely no need for an apology. I want to be interested in things he is interested in--even if that means manning up to my fears.

On the way down, I started to feel more comfortable. I finally let myself relax a little and go over the "poisons snakes" with ease--and come to find out--it was kinda fun. I started to enjoy the wind in my hair and the beauty of the mountain. I saw the look of pleasure on Nick's and all the other bikers' faces. To them, this was flow (or a hobby that brings utter happiness). Though I envied every runner on the trail, I wanted to be in Nick's world for a moment and I discovered that I  just might like it...in the future.

Yeah for adventure! Yeah for facing fears!

^^^proof that I made it to the top (or so it appears)