“the glove compartment is inaccurately named, and everybody knows it”
I may be among the few, but I love rainy days. The gray sky and encroaching fog highlights the contrasting transmutation of leaves from green to gold, crimson, and burning orange. The tree trunks stand dark and austere and still as leaves bend and twitch to rain drops’ dictation.
Also, it is simply entertaining to see students scurrying from building to building, mostly unprepared. Because who stops to look out the window as we’re stumbling from bed to class way too early for good mental health?
“Don’t forget about delight,” says Bruce Cockburn in one of my favorite songs. OK, Bruce. No problem. Not on a day like today when ideal conditions for napping, reading, and hot chocolate exist.
My roommates are pretty much amazing (I think this will be a frequent refrain of my life). Katie was up in the studio all night this week because she had a graphic design project due. So Elena took her a real Italian cappucino to help keep her awake. Pretty much they are very thoughtful people. Living with them is a little more complicated now that we are not in Italy, but it’s good, and I’m glad for whatever time I get to spend with them outside of class craziness.
Like last night. Art majors working on Halloween costumes are the best thing EVER (I say this, of course, without bias). Every year, the Art League (an organization for promoting crazy fun and community for anyone involved in art classes and led by an intrepid and mysterious figure known only as Captain Art Major) holds a Halloween party, usually at Daniel Finch’s house. This year I rue the fact that I will not be able to attend, because the costumes I see are colorful, brilliant, and hysterical. Trust me, photographs will follow. But only once the unveiling has taken place.
Happy Friday. Let its absurdity, its rain, and its delight usher you with a rush into the weekend.
Quotes of the day: “I don’t think he really thought that Jesus loved E-town,”
“D as in dog. . . arf arf!”
– my world views professor
“ptolemy may have a difficult name, but he was no dummy.”
– my world views professor
I think early-morning classes make even professors a little bit punchy. I never, for instance, thought I would hear the word “dummy” coming out of a professor’s mouth, let alone a professor teaching an honors course about diverse and intellectually challenging world views.
World views is a fun class, but not because of the course’s content (frankly, I am only interested in dismantling the parts of my world view which relate directly to the production of poetry or art; philosophy classes and theology classes have thorougly exhausted my general-dismantling-of-views energy). It is fun because I am close friends with four people in that class and know most of the other 9-9:50 a.m. inhabitants of Boyer 136 through first-year seminar or other honors classes. We have great discussions because we are already acquainted — and I experience an astounding sense of well-being when I walk into that classroom with coffee cup in hand (lo, caffeine is indeed the nectar of the gods) and see people that I love arrayed around the classroom.
Matt, one of my close friends since freshman year, mentioned to me yesterday that he is graduating early from Messiah; he will be done this December. It made me realize: this semester is the last time we will all be together, for sure, everyone.
Maybe I take this sense of well-being for granted?
I am most emphatically of the opinion that one should be at college to work, and not to goof off or find a spouse. But I am also formulating to myself this fact: it is in the realm of relationships that one is able to internalize and apply the material one is learning so assiduously in class. If it does not apply to these, the community — maybe I will even go so far as to say the kingdom of God? — then is it really of use?
It is going to storm tonight — but I am so all about going to get sushi with my boyfriend that it will not even bother me if ten tons of water dump to earth.
I hope you have a lovely Friday afternoon.
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