Methinks earthworms have more interesting lives

Quote of the night: "You're so evil." (Joey)

This was in response to my convoluted plot to bypass college, which involved suing his chemistry book publishers for gender discrimination and making millions, thus making it irrelevant whether I passed chemistry or not.

Yeah. It's a slow night. I'm studying for a Spanish test on the subjunctive case, which, trust me, is wildly entertaining.

However, I did get paid for my research job today, in the form of a personal check from the professor in question. Sketchy much? At least I don't have to pay taxes now. Another piece of good news- the presentation for my hugelyginormous semester-long group project on the peace process in Guatemala was today, and it went well. Best moment:
Professor- "Who was the UN negotiator?"
Me, quickly- "Jean Arnault."
Professor- "That was intended to be a tricky question."
I like being a goody two shoes. By the way, can someone please explain the etymology of that phrase? I have no idea what it means. Thanks.

Joey just performed the N'Sync "Bye Bye Bye" dance. I think we spend too much time studying.

House

Since the demise of Star Trek, House is the only TV show I will watch live every week. I get way too fed up with commercials with other shows, and I just catch them later online. But I can't imagine postponing watching a new episode of House. I must see it as soon as possible! Which means watching it on TV like everyone else.

But this show is worth it. Witty banter, ethical dilemmas for Joey and I to debate later, even the occasional CIA intervention or love triangle. Oh yeah, and awesome abnormal medicine. I love how I'm able to predict what's going to happen once in a while- I feel like I have actual medical knowledge. I don't. But I do generally recognize the signs of a stroke now. That could be useful. This is how I justify how I spend the nine oclock hour on Tuesday nights.

Plus, there's a great site that analyzes the medical truth behind the show- http://www.politedissent.com/house_pd.html . Joey used to read it out loud to me before my bad listening skills made him think I didn't care. But it's really quite interesting when I'm not in the middle of something (namely, reading other people's blogs). Good times.

Still- there's no replacing Star Trek. Television's zenith passed with the finale of Star Trek: Voyager.

Notes

I thought that writing a post a day would, you know, give people plenty of opportunities to comment. But I haven't gotten a single comment since I started this NaBloPoMo thing. Maybe the blog community is boycotting my bad and uninteresting writing? Sucks for you. I'm going to write anyway, so there. :-P

Today's weather says here comes winter. Gray and windy and occasionally sprinkling cold rain. Groan. Time to break out the outerwear from their rubbermaid containers by my bed. I think my cotton summer skirts and lovely sandals need to be retired for the year. On a happier note: the Starbucks I'm sitting in right now is decorated for Christmas, and my heart is full of joyful excitement. I'm not usually a huge Christmas person, but I'm feeling the spirit this year. We'll see if that lasts until a week after Thanksgiving, by which point I am usually tired of pop-ified Christmas carols and the color red.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, I'm not going home this year. Gasp! This has caused consternation back home, but we only get Thursday and Friday off, so I would have to skip Wednesday classes to make it home in time, plus my parents are working a fair amount. I'm going to stay here and write papers so that the NEXT weekend, I can fly down to Birmingham and go to my cousin's wedding reception. He's getting married on a cruise over Thanksgiving, which is out of the question for my family, but we're going to his reception. He's the first of my cousins to get married. Scary. He's a Marine and is on leave from Iraq for this whole wedding deal, so I figure that he deserves my presence. If he's going to fly out from Iraq, I'll fly out from Indiana. Should be an interesting occasion family-drama-wise; I might finally get to meet my godfather's new wife. Sweet.

And now, I must return to working on a paper on Guatemala. Specifically, foreign involvement in the Guatemalan peace process. Dude, the UN totally rocked the negotiations. Human rights mission before there's even a formal ceasefire? Risky but so brilliant. And thank God for Norway. Seriously, what would world peace do without Norway? I shudder to think of it.

I'm such a peace nerd.

Dynamite

It's been a whopper of a week. Think of those huge groupers with the massive bodies and really ugly faces- that's been this week. Well, actually, not at all. Bad analogy. While this week was at times quite ugly, I think I learned a lot too.

I don't really want to go into details, but I guess I have to say something about what's going on after Joey said, "With everything that's happened, you post about makeup?" It's hard to know how to write about the not-so-happy times, because while I know my friends and family back home want to hear about the events of my life, good and bad, I also don't want to whine or worry everyone.

Just get it out, already. This week our (as in mine and Joey's) two year anniversary almost didn't happen. TWICE. You would think that after two years together we would see such landmines coming, or even prevent their existence, but I guess (relatively speaking) we're still new to this. Two years isn't that long in the grand scheme of things. It takes a lot to shake us- in fact, I don't think we've ever come so close to calling it quits, not even in the midst of figuring out how to manage a relationship in college during freshman year. Suddenly a cornerstone of your relationship can be wiped away with one blast of dynamite and then you find yourself back at square one. It doesn't have to mean that it's the end- but lots of work is in store if you keep going. We decided to keep going, and we'll rebuild. Right now we're just relieved that despite everything, we're still together. I adore this boy and he's pretty smitten with me, so I'm pretty sure you haven't seen the last of us yet.

At least my parents got their money's worth

Triple overtime = extra hour or so of gametime. Most cost-effective game all year :-)

I can't help but be happy for Navy. I can vaguely imagine the ecstasy of joy they must be in right now, and if we had to lose like that, I'm glad it was to a team and school I respect and admire. Way to go guys.

The worst part of the game was the booing by the student section (and probably other parts of the stadium too) of Coach Weis after the game. For at least this season, he's our coach, and I support him as much as I support the team. What do I know about football to argue his play calls? There are many legitimate criticisms to be made, I'm sure, but as a member of the student body, not a sports analyst, I refuse to boo anyone on my team. Whether or not he should be replaced is not my call to make, and I don't feel any better about our season by laying all the blame on him and casting him out for not doing a better job. I stand by my team, coaching staff included, and let the people who know best make the decisions. I don't think they care what my expert opinion is anyway.

A Day for Celebrating

My family is here. I just drank sparkling grape juice champagne with my boyfriend to celebrate our two year anniversary today. Life is good, and I am very tired.

Makeup Complaints Issues

(Possibly the most shallow post of my life lies ahead. Just a warning)

Makeup and I are not friends, and never have been. This is bad, because I have a theory that Notre Dame girls were taught from age 5 how to apply eyeliner. Maybe it's a legacy thing. Even girls who come to class in PJs or sweats make time for their morning makeup ritual. Now me, on the other hand- I consistently find myself in a cycle of experiment-- daily application-- disillusionment--- disgust. No matter how hard I try to break the cycle, I just can't seem to discover how to successfully integrate makeup into my life.

To start off with, I have a lot working against me. Pale skin + shadowed, recessed eyes = my eye makeup easily looks gothic. I wear mostly brown, not black mascara and eyeliner, but even the thinnest of eyeliner lines and the sparest of mascara coats cause problems. Also, I have so many lines under my eyes (it's a genetic thing- my mom gave me my eye shape) that inevitably eyeliner and mascara dust settles in the creases under my eyes, leaving me looking haggard and exhausted by an hour after application. When wearing eye makeup, I have to remember to frequently check these under-eye creases for makeup debris and wipe it off, although that also wipes off my concealer which must be reapplied, etc etc. I keep trying, though, because I love how most redheads make their eyes look gorgeous against their pretty pale faces.

Another major issue is patience. I am much more dedicated to sleep than looks. I will not sacrifice fifteen minutes of sleep for a morning cleansing face scrub/ multilayer makeup application. My makeup routine, when it exists, is quick eye makeup and tinted lip balm. I don't own foundation (why wear makeup that matches the color of your skin?) and my facial cleansers sit dusty and unused, even the one with "morning burst beads" that claim to wake you up as you lather. Essentially, my dedication level is low.

Final major complaint: I feel so much more tired when I wear eye makeup, because I can't rub my eyes. My eyes get all dry and all I want to do is close them for a long time. I rub my makeup off pretty quickly because staying awake in class trumps looks.

I've read online makeup guides. I've had my makeup done professionally (once... years ago), and I've watched friends who know what they're doing. I have a bulging makeup bag. And still, I find myself at war with makeup. It's a love-hate relationship, because it knows that I need it to look "nice" by social standards, and professors, etc appreciate it when you look nice. And of course I'd like to be able to handle makeup well. But I think that until I commit to making time for a makeup routine in the morning, it's not going to work. Maybe all of that cleansing and foundation and crap is necessary. And let's face it, I'm not THAT motivated. Sleep is so much more important. I will continue to be the frumpy-looking hoodie, jeans, and clogs girl, but I will have fifteen more minutes of sleep. I win.

Next time: my relationship with my hair, and why I am not just the makeupless girl, but also the pony-tail-sporting-non-long-silky-hair girl.
Just kidding. I won't put you through the torture of a post like this again for a while. :-)

New goal for November:
One (hopefully well-thought out) blog post a day.

This is part of my ongoing flip out less, love life more campaign. Shazaam.

In other news: my family is driving up to spend a whole weekend with me. *happily shifts weight from foot to foot while smiling extra big*

Also: a baby sheep is a sheepling. Awwww.

Lots of colons were harmed in the making of this blog entry. Not organs, punctuation marks.

Furthermore

I just figured out what classes I still need to take to graduate with a double major in political science and peace studies and a minor in Catholic social tradition. Guess what- out of the 25 class slots I have left (5 semesters at 5 classes/semester), only 17 or 18 have to be filled by requirements, depending on if I take another summer service class like I did last summer. I could go abroad for a semester and not take anything in any of my fields of study, and still have two free classes to spare. HUGE happy face. I love AP credit- I bypassed all those pesky university requirements that way.

Fall Break

The university (wisely) allows its students a week off after midterms week. I think that they didn't do this in the past, and there were mass suicides from stress, so they figured a week off is necessary for students to regroup (read: sleep). I couldn't agree more. I elected to stay on campus for fall break instead of traveling home, which has turned out to be one of my more brilliant ideas. Let me count the ways:

• I share the campus with perhaps twelve other students. I seriously doubt that there is another living soul in my dorm right now.
• Food for the week cost $15. Much cheaper than plane tickets. Just so no one worries about me starving to death, campus eateries (but not dining halls) are still open for limited hours every day.
• I didn't set an alarm clock last night. That hasn't happened in at least a year. Do you have any idea how beautiful it is to wake up when your body wants to, instead of your schedule?
  
• In my day off today, I watched lots of TV online (how have I missed out on how awesome Heroes is?) and enjoyed the peace and quiet. I got a little bit of work done, but I decided to spend most of my time chilling out.
• The rest of the week I intend to Get Things Done, such as summer program apps, study abroad apps, a couple of papers, research, and a couple books.
• Joey called tonight from D.C., where he's traveling with a class on Religion and Politics. He had gotten up early and spent most of his day at the Holocaust Museum, and as we talked he was rushing to the Jefferson Memorial. I perhaps envied him the company of like-minded friends, but definitely not the schedule. Hanging out in my room all day in PJs was exactly what the doctor ordered. I rush around all day in ordinary life; break life should be relaxed.
• When my family called last night, I didn't have to cut the conversation short because of some paper deadline or event. I can't remember the last time that's happened either.

I say all of this realizing that this time next semester, spring break, I will be in Germany, Poland, and the Czech Republic with a class on the Holocaust, keeping even crazier hours than I do during school. I won't have a break next semester (but I will have one heck of a trip). Thusly, I'm living it up while I have the chance. Yes, I said thusly.

Mind Fog

Story of my morning:
Skip class A to finish insane paper for class B. Finish paper, travel to classroom building to print said paper. Arrive at class B 15 minutes early; wait in hallway for previous class to let out. Girl from class B rushes past into theoretically occupied classroom. Realize that class B starts at 11, not 11:30, making me 15 minutes late instead of 15 minutes early.

Moral of the story:
My paper's done. Midterms week is over. Normal life can resume.

Peace & Quiet

Open letter to academia

Honored faculty:

I came to college to learn. I take classes on things I want to learn about. Thus, I do not appreciate it when you make it physically impossible for me to learn. You assign readings and papers as if yours is the only class I'm enrolled in. What purpose can it possibly serve to snow me under with an enormous workload? It only makes me rush through each assignment, looking for what I'll need to know for a paper or a test. I forget what I read as quickly as I read it. The problem is not with me: the grand majority of my waking day is spent either in class or preparing for the following day's classes. I don't drink, so don't blame it on that, and I work nearly as hard on weekends as I do during the week. I can play your game; my 3.98 GPA attests to that. I make the grades, but don't fool yourselves that you're teaching me anything. What ticking clock are you running against? Why push so hard to get through so much? I would learn so much more if you gave me the time to think about what you're having me read. You say that if you were easier on your students then none of us would do the work. Well, as it is, none of us can do the work. I don't understand what you're trying to prove here. At this point in our lives, at this institution of higher learning, I don't understand how the argument I'm still getting for why things are the way they are is that the worst students need it to be this way. Hello, there are no bad students here. There might be slacking students, but intelligence is not lacking. Why not do something truly revolutionary and give us time to actually understand a piece, to discuss it and question its assumptions? Then we might remember something about it this time next year. I'm not learning; I'm walking miles on a treadmill and getting nowhere. My parents are not paying you 40k a year so that I can hate going to class.

Much love, Laura

Story of a Purdue Game

Fortunately for readers, this story does not capture the 6:15 wakeup call or the 7AM bus boarding. The bus trip isn't covered either, because the photographer was asleep. Nor did she document the incredibly rude Purdue fans she encountered before the game, because they are not worthy of space on her blog. That might have been slightly harsh. And she was too busy wolfing down her brat to provide photo evidence of that. Instead, we begin with the game, which took place in a even more out of the way part of Indiana than where her university lives.

Gooo Irish!















We sat almost on the top row beneath the Jumbotron. Yay shade. I still managed to get sunburned. Weirdest coincidence ever: one of my roommates from last year was sitting in the row in front of us. Go figure.




















LOOK at our positive yardage. Oh man, I was so happy. If my Irish could just play a whole game like they played in the second half, we would be good to go. Bring it, Duke. Anyway, I loved the game. Forward motion, Irish fans; forward motion.

Post-game, we embarked on a mission to find tasty liquid for our parched throats. Usually for college students this refers to alcohol; for us it means Starbucks. We're so cool. Purdue's Student Union building is not. Fortunately for them, we still found our Starbucks.




















"You cannot see me, I am a ninja!"

This would be when we were waiting for the bus to move to take us back to ND. Joey was trying (and failing) to make a ninja mask out of his sweatshirt.






















Much better. We got back to school by 7PM- that's 12 hours of football awayness. Shweet. Upon getting back to my dorm, we refused to move another inch and elected to experience ordered-in restaurant food for the first time in our college careers. Due to our incredible luck, we ended up ordering the best Mexican food I've ever had this far north, and it gave southern places a run for their money too. We capped off the day with, what else, a football movie- We Are Marshall. Apparently Marshall is a college, not a high school. Who knew? (Answer: Everyone on the planet but me). Good times.

YAY

I would just like to share that for the first time this semester, I actually came out of a class feeling excited and like I had learned something. And- better yet- I felt like I would keep learning for the rest of the semester. I'm even excited about starting my research paper for said class!

Yessss. The love of learning has returned. You had me worried for a second there, buddy.

Story of a Sunday

3 AM: Bedtime.

10 AM: Wake up. Roll over and go back to sleep.

11 AM: Finally up and moving. Check email and create to-do list of homework for the week.

11:45 AM: Finish putzing around on the internet and straighten room.

Noon: Wakeup call to still-sleeping boyfriend, as requested. Foiled by lack of TMobile cell phone service on campus, especially in boyfriend's far-flung nearly off-campus residence hall. Give up after 5 tries; commence homework.

12:30 PM: Consumption of yogurt and cereal.

1 PM: Call from mother, et al. Discover that father's presentation to the entirety of church was awesome. Big smile.

1:30 PM: Put laundry in washer; return to homework.

2 PM: Put laundry in dryer; continue homework. Give in to the distraction of roommate watching FIFA world cup quarterfinals.

2:30 PM: Boyfriend calls around this time; promises to show up soon. Happiness that he has not been struck down by the plague, but was merely sleeping.

3 PM: Pull laundry out of dryer; fold; gather homework materials. Depart with boyfriend for that grungy site of studying and caffeine consumption, the student center.

3:15 PM: Begin agonizing over take home test for grad school class. Involves writing three "essays" in a total of 500 words. That's approximately 166.67 words per question. Great anxiety over proper wording; must be simple yet accurate.

6 PM: Dinner and a break from essay writing.

7 PM: Transfer study materials to a silent third floor classroom; continue agonizing essay writing.

9 PM: Bathroom break. Classroom containing laptop, cellphone, ID, keys, books, etc is locked upon return. Momentary extreme fear and desperate searching for building manager. Manager kindly unlocks door.

9:05 PM: Break to write a whiny, but hopefully somewhat humorous blog post.

I think I understand ritual suicide now

Don't say anything about the game. Just don't. When the highlight of my gameday experience is that the manager of the bar gave me a coke on the house, there are serious problems.

Joey and I are off to go get Chickfila at the local mall and cover up our pain with yummy food. I think it's a good strategy.

Oh college

Well, it turns out that it really is as crazy as I remember it being. I'd kinda forgotten (blocked the memory?) how it feels to work hard but always be behind. Like how I'm disregarding studying for my practice Spanish test right now. Of course, the night is young, the test is just a practice, and it's my only class tomorrow. But even if I were super crazy industrious and had studied all afternoon, there would still be thank you notes from my birthday to write, about seven letters that need writing, photos to print and send to far-off friends, and of course the mountainload of weekend homework to get started on. To all of this, I say: meh.

Besides the general complaining about classes = too much work, I have two major issues thus far this semester. I can't talk about the first one because various ND people read this and feelings might get hurt. But issue #2 is that I spend literally all of my time engaged in theoretical debates about abstract things. If I'm not in class "learning," I'm reading or writing so that I can further "learn." Or else working for a campus group in support of more abstract principles, or working for spending money so that I have the freedom to support the campus groups. I just spend my summer learning way more than I could ever learn in a classroom while at the same time knowing I was making a difference. It is almost unbearably frustrating to sit in lectures (/read books/write papers, etc) about things like how to make peace and how to love God when I could be out there ACTUALLY DOING IT, and probably learning a lot more. Part of it is selfish- I miss the feeling of being sure I was doing something positive. But it's also that I feel like I was unjustly placed in remedial algebra; this pace is just too slow for me. I know I can learn much more necessary, powerful lessons while working towards actual justice.

At this point, my mother is wondering why she's paying 47k a year for me to complain about the education I'm getting. It's just that learning theory is nothing like learning by doing. C'mon Mom- you learned more in a week of rounds in med school than you did in a year of textbook learning.

There are ways of coping. I'm planning on making time very soon for community service in South Bend. I'm reorganizing my priorities about campus groups and probably backing off on my involvement in a few. I'm involved in several groups that entail huge beginning of the year commitments from me, and I've been swamped handling that. My mom casually offered to fly me back to where I spent my summer for fall break; I'm thinking about it. If nothing else, this is a lesson in patience and growing where I'm planted. Not all of us can pull a Kristin and follow our passions (referring to my going-to-be roomie for this year who dropped out of school and is now a Dominican sister in Michigan).

In other news, Joey and I are going to the Purdue game. We have tickets and the student union is sponsoring a bus. We wanted to go to Michigan, but they ran out of tickets as we waited. It's ok, though, we have a plan. Last year we went to Michigan State and this year we're going to Purdue. That means if we go to USC next year and Michigan our senior year, we'll hit one of our four major rivals each year. I guess we're leaving out Boston College, but I don't feel the competitive urge to annihilate their team like I do for the four others. We're going to pretend that it's ok for peace studies majors to feel that way.

Also, having a starbucks on campus is very very bad. I broke my addiction this summer because no starbucks was in walking distance, but I have dramatically relapsed. It's bad.

Finally, for Linda- I've loved the 3 episodes of West Wing that I've had time to watch. I wish they had subtitles though! It takes so much attention to keep up with the episode.

Tada! The newest member of the Knights of Columbus. Congrats kiddo.

In Support

Win or lose, I love my Irish.

Soon, maybe not this season, but soon, the team that is struggling so much right now is going to be brilliant, and no one will doubt us. But until then, I'm not leaving any games early or switching the channel in the third quarter, and I will still scream myself hoarse at every game. Bring it, Irish.

Long Overdue

Cool stuff I got for my birthday that I was totally not expecting:
A surprise dinner party, for a total of 14 super cool people, at my house, orchestrated by my parents
TWO kinds of cake for said party
A letter from my best friend growing up, who hasn't talked to me in five years
A letter from one of my favorite teachers, who I also haven't heard from in five years
TWO purses that I like- and anyone who knows me knows it's very dangerous to try to guess what purse I will like. I'm picky. Now I have FOUR PURSES! What the crap? Soon I will have to change purses daily.
One of those nifty moleskine notebooks from Borders- I've always wanted one, and never bought it for myself.
The West Wing, Season 7- also my parents. I'd never seen WW before, but it's intriguing.
Sidewalk chalk, play dough, and a puzzle from one of my favorite ND people
My favoritest Romero quote ever as the Daily Quiet eMoment that I get emailed every day ("We can not do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that...") [Sorry if that quote's off, I'm going from memory]
And lots more stuff. But these were the super-awesome things I want to remember.


In other news, I'm back at ND, second day of classes, somewhat in over my head, but coping. I'm thinking deep breaths and happy thoughts. (Saying deep breaths to myself is more calming than actually taking deep breaths. It's weird).

My little brother, part two

Mom: Have you gotten any calls from any well-wishers today?

Me: No, no phone calls.

Mom: Oh.

Mark: Go get your cell phone!

(a minute later, my cell phone buzzes)

Mark (over home phone): Hi Laurie, happy birthday!


That kind of cuteness is going to be very dangerous for some nice little girl someday.

My little brother, ladies and gentlemen

Me: (to the cat, who had just bitten my ankle) Yeow, Jasmine, that hurt!

Mark: She doesn't care. All she cares about is a steady food supply. (pause) She's like the Native Americans.

Me: ??! (yes, I made that exact noise.)

New edition of Murphy's Law

Whenever you set aside a day for getting several things accomplished, inevitably nothing will get done.


Harrumph.

Hitting Snooze

I use my cell phone instead of my alarm clock to wake me up in the morning. It may seem weird, but if I use my alarm clock, I know exactly where the button is to turn off the alarm- not just snooze, mind you, but off. If I use my cell phone, I can hit a button on the side of the phone to make the thing snooze. To turn off the alarm, I have to go through the effort of opening the phone (which then shines a light in my face) and finding the right button to push.

So far, so good. But recently I've developed a nasty habit of not even consciously realizing that I'm ignoring my alarm. If it's out of reach, I wake up for a moment then fall back asleep almost instantly, and my family can tell you that this alarm is loud. If it's within reach, I grab it and hold it in my hand as I fall back asleep, unconsciously pushing the snooze button on the side until the poor alarm gives up after an hour or so. Then I end up waking up at 1PM instead of 9AM (as happened today). It doesn't seem to matter how much sleep I've had, and I always wake up not remembering doing any of this.

Any ideas? I'm going back to school next week, where a full night's sleep is a luxury and 8:30 classes come early. Sad face.

Home again, home again

Neat links. My type-A personality particularly loves the Schoolhouse 2 app; I promptly made course folders for this semester and I've enjoyed messing around with the various assignment/task/scheduling features. Fun stuff.

In other words, I'm back from the beach. It was a grand adventure and a good refresher course in Relaxing 101. Joey's uncles were excellent and generous hosts and Joey and I enjoyed peace and quiet together.

Today I headed up to Mark's school for Mass, carefully sitting on the other side of the church from him so as not to embarrass him. Fie on tweenhood. I saw a few teachers who are still there from the days that I ruled the school, which was nice. Mark and I went out for Coldstone ice cream after school. Despite his whiny and sometimes selfish moods, he's really turning out to be a good kid. When he's not upset about something, he's very compassionate and attentive to the feelings of others. Since when does my little brother offer to celebrate my birthday this weekend by doing whatever I want to do? He's a good listener and does what he can to help fix others' problems. And as it turned out, I made myself so invisible at Mass that he didn't even know I was there until later, so he wasn't avoiding me. He makes me feel old when he acts so grown up.

A song that spoke to me today...

All in all it's just another day now
You're falling down; what you gonna do?
Standing on top of the world tonight
No ones looking back at you.

Stand tall
It's going on, It's going on
It's gonna be just fine
You're holding on, holding on today

Lifehouse has its moments of brilliance. Music can either help me get through something or make it worse, but it's definitely a big source of solace and wisdom. Is anyone else like that, or am I just weird?

Insomnia

Why is it that when one most needs to sleep, one is most awake? There's a trick to making yourself sleep when you need to that I've never quite learned. I think it's a doctor thing. My parents are out in two seconds. Must have been med school.

I've spent most of this week hanging out with various people and quietly ignoring the less desirable tasks that need to be done before I go back to school. I wrote a few pages of my paper and read some of the first chapter of a required book, but my efforts have been rather half-hearted. My room remains in a state of total disrepair and disorganization; I have even less motivation to bother about that. The reality of all of this will likely come crashing down on me when I get home on Tuesday, but until then, I intend to enjoy Florida beaches and the company of my boyfriend and his uncles. Yay for disregarding responsibility! But is it really disregarding when I know that I will take care of it later? I'm way too type-A to really disregard responsibility. I just fool myself for a while and pretend to.

This week, in my blissful and willful ignorance of duties, I went to lunch with a woman from my parents' office and a woman from church, Pat and Carma, both of whom are delightful and fascinating people. I ate yummy pizza with Matt and Joey, which Matt paid for after we griped too much about not having summer jobs (oops and hehe). Joey and I hung out with his Life Teen friends and played a monumental game of Apples to Apples. Joey's parents cooked an amazing dinner and invited me to partake of their feast, after which the infamous Taboo team of Joey, Eric, and I destroyed the opposition team of Meghan and Mr & Mrs Grone. Tonight Mom and I met up with some Girl Scout friends for our traditional Olive Garden yearly dinner and pirate-themed birthday party (for three of the four women present). Joey and I also deeply enjoyed Grumpy Old Men, a hilarious gem of a movie that I had somehow never seen. Mark (under my supervision) made a peanut butter pie, and then we served it to my parents' prayer group. Hurray for relaxing and spending time with friends. Maybe that counts as a responsibility too. :-)

Ok, bed time. Theoretically, Joey is picking me up for our road trip at 9 tomorrow morning. Heh, heh. Hopefully we'll leave before noon and make it to the beach when it's still light outside. The beauty of our trips is we are such relaxed go-with-the-flow travelers, and we always end up having a good time. Note to self: treasure these last few days of freedom. When I get home, it will be all about getting ready to go back to school, and as much as I'm looking forward to it, vacation does have its perks.

Mmm

More for Maria than anyone else:
While picking up the fixings for a peanut butter pie I'm about to make with Mark at the grocery store, I stopped by that coffee house that has become so well-liked by certain members of my church. I am now sipping a nice frozen mocha, and I agree, mmm. The guy behind the counter was nice too. Basically, I'm just affirming that you guys have good taste. :-)

Awesomeness

Dailylit.com

Pick a book and subscribe to the RSS feed, and they send you a short segment (takes about 5 minutes to read) as often as you like, for free. I would never pick up some of the classics on the site during the year, but in these bite-sized portions they become much more manageable. I'm reading The Hound of the Baskervilles first. :-)

Random observation about myself, for future reference:
I crave security and safety, but I do crazy and silly things. I just sent a long email to someone who used to be a big part of my life, but we haven't spoken in five years. I asked if he wanted to go get coffee and catch up. Where the heck did that come from? Other examples: going to school 12 hours away, my summer service program, encouraging my family to run out to the beach amid a thunderstorm.
Official conclusion: My mind makes no sense. If I were an android, my positronic net would be fused and I would have exploded by now.

Concentrated Summer

My normally several-month-long summer has been condensed into four weeks (at least the part involving family, high school friends, and stuff like that). I feel like the all-the-rage concentrated detergent bottles. Use half the liquid for the same kick. Anyway...

My family returned home today after three days at the beach. Perhaps it wasn't as extravagant as some years (blame Notre Dame, not me...) but at least I feel like I've fulfilled my Quality Time Quotient for a while, something that is often hard to do in the craziness of being home. Wanting to spend time with everyone makes it hard to be home sometimes. We walked/ran on the beach, avoided getting sunburned (most of the time), ate seafood and pizza and fudge, drank "fancy coffee," browsed shops in the village, read our books, watched lots of Star Trek episodes, and in general did our best to chill out.

We also almost got killed in a nasty thunderstorm... fortunately no one was electrocuted. We had just arrived Monday afternoon, and we of course had to go see the beach as soon as we got our stuff in the room... so we walked out, ignoring the drizzle that was increasing to a steady rain. It was about a two minute walk to the beach, past the pool and under trees. We made it to the beach, took note of the large and angry-looking storm clouds behind us, and hunkered under one of those metal-framed pop-up canopies some wiser family had abandoned. We were pretty much soaked and the beach was deserted. The choice was to try to make it back to the condo thing, through the rain now coming in sheets, towards the quickly-approaching lightning, or hope that it would blow over our heads momentarily. We stuck it out, playing it brave for Mark, with Dad chancing touching the metal frame once in a while to keep the canopy on the ground. It was pretty much incredible, especially because no one got hurt. Good times.

I've been busy trying to catch up with my high school friends too. Margy, Liana, and I met for Chickfila lunching goodness, and I saved Christine from agonizing over the finals for her summer classes at UGA by whisking her away for a picnic and free outdoor movie in downtown Decatur. The picnic was great, as were the desperately competitive rounds of Taboo between the two of us and Joey and Dan; the movie got viciously rained out (I seem to be getting soaked in freak storms a lot lately). We took refuge at Dan's house and watched Batman instead. I am now deeply in need of my Akeelah and the Bee fix, however; my family won't watch it with me. I was so psyched to see it and have been sadly disappointed. Takers?

Tonight brought some much-needed room-cleaning time. I never unpacked my college stuff when I came home in May, I just packed out of boxes for my summer. Now I have college stuff and summer suitcases to unpack and organize. I went through most of the "random stuff" boxes tonight, sorting out stuff that doesn't need to come back to school with me, and putting the re-packed boxes out of the way downstairs. The process inevitably involved sorting through the books-to-read-or-reread box, and now I'm shifting from foot to foot in anticipation of the books I want to read. I'm leaving about half at home. I should leave them all. I didn't read a single book for fun during last school year (breaks don't count). But how sad is a bookshelf full of just mandatory reading? I think my soul at least needs the promise of non-academic books. And now that I have accomplished one goal for the night (writing a mondo-huge and disjointed blog post (yes, my to-do list actually says those very words)) I think I'm going to indulge my insatiable written-word craving.

One last thing: I'm reading Snow Flower and the Secret Fan on the high recommendation of many people, and I have to ask of those who've read it, what's with all the hype? I'm not impressed, but I'm holding out for that kick-butt chapter that makes it all worthwhile.

Displacement

My program/class this summer assigned a book by Henri Nouwen and others called Compassion. At times I cursed this book for the way it explained service, because it claims that service is only truly possible if we first have a deep relationship with God. I would agree that it helps, that it keeps you from serving for the sake of serving and points you towards what you're called to do, but I would argue that simply because I have the faith of a rather desperate agnostic does not mean that I can't serve and offer compassion.

Sorry for ranting. There were parts of the book that spoke to me, and one was the chapter on displacement. It started by talking about voluntary displacement- the times in our lives that we decide to make ourselves uncomfortable in order to reach out to others. My eight weeks of service was the most radical voluntary displacement I have ever done. The first part of this chapter has you ready to move to Calcutta and work with Mother Teresa's nuns, so passionate is its speech. But then comes the catch: involuntary displacement, the ways in which we struggle in our ordinary lives that we have no control over, are also calls from God.

"If voluntary displacement is such a central theme in the life of Christ and his followers, must we not begin by displacing ourselves? Probably not. Rather, we must begin to identify in our own lives where displacement is already occurring... Our first and most difficult task... is to allow these actual displacements to become places where we can hear God's call... In and through this recognition a conversion can take place, a conversion from involuntary displacement leading to resentment, bitterness, resignation, and apathy, to voluntary displacement that can become an expression of discipleship. We do not have to go after crosses, but we have to take up the crosses that have been ours all along" (Nouwen, et al. 70-71).

I both love and hate that sort of uncomfortable wincing that comes with realizing how blind you've been. The mantra in the back of my mind since I've been home has been, "I don't want to be here, I want to go back." I am being uncomfortably and involuntarily displaced, and I naturally rebel against that. But that's not the healthy and moral thing to do, is it? Thanks for your questions in your comment on my last post, Maria- they made me think.

Also, I've started a site, mostly for my own use, to collect and organize the nifty bits of wisdom I keep finding all over the place. I have recently fallen in love with the label function of Blogger. Yay! http://wisdomcrumbs.blogspot.com/

Last but not least- a big, happy, grateful, public thank you to Miss Linda, Mr. Jeff, Annie, and Chloe for letting Mark and I crash at their place last night. It was my parents' 25th wedding anniversary yesterday, and we tried to let them have the house to themselves. Of course, rather than go quietly, they brought the cake I had made them and champagne over to Linda's house to share before going home for the night, but what can you do. They're where I get my stubbornness from, but also my life, so I can't be too disgruntled.

Peace be with everyone :-)

The best of friends have a knack of gently showing you the error of your ways, without actually coming out and saying that you're misguided. Or maybe it's the love of a friend that fills you with enough love for yourself that you can see yourself more clearly. Regardless, I had a long conversation with my ex-goingtobe-roomie-currently-entering-theDominicans last night, and I might have my head on straight now. My love belongs to everyone around me because it's within me to give it. Love might have been more easy to offer at Bethany, where we talked immediately about real things, but love can still be offered in listening to someone talk about such seemingly-pointless things as Harry Potter. Time to start applying what I learned instead of spending all my time missing a place I can't go back to any time soon. Thanks, whoever reads this, for not just saying that to my face- I wouldn't have understood yet.

Paradoxes

It's been much more rough transitioning back into real life than I thought. How could I have figured out a good deal about how to find and be peace at a homeless shelter, and not be able to do the same at home, where I am supposed to feel the most loved and secure? Why is life so much more complicated and even unhappy here than in a place of constant chaos and trauma? I knew it would be hard to go, but I had no idea it would be so hard to come home. Despite the chaos and the sometimes overwhelming despair, the place that I spent my summer was also full of unconditional love that accepted you and what you had to offer. I was allowed to be me and grow at my own pace, offering as much love as I could as I learned. No one ever disapproved of me (at least, they never made me feel that way). My family and friends here are mostly the same loving, awesome people, but it feels like they're trying to love someone who's not here. I'm still me, but I left a big piece of my heart in New York and I'm just not sure how to be happy or fulfilled without it.

Base Camp

After a half hour delay, my plane took off without mishap from Rochester's cute little airport at around 6 PM last night, depositing me back in Atlanta along with two very full suitcases and a backpack. Thus far in my transition back into real life I am still thoroughly overwhelmed. My first surprise was remembering what it's like to be deeply loved. My family and my boyfriend were waiting for me at the Atlanta airport, and it took me a good fifteen minutes to get used to the idea that they had loved me and missed me so much that they wanted to hug and kiss me. I loved deeply and found a lot of love in Rochester, seeing as they weren't family, it was, of course, different. I hadn't even really noticed how genuine unconditional love had simply been missing from my life for the last eight weeks. I've never been without both family and boyfriend at the same time for any extended length of time, if that makes this more comprehensible. I had just forgotten what it's like, to be loved in this way. I don't think I stopped to consider what I was expecting for them to do when I got home, but the hugs and kisses and huge smiles genuinely surprised me and overwhelmed me.

Of course, some things I have adjusted to easily. I slept well in my bed last night, and I took a shower this morning without flipflops on my feet. I ate a sandwich for lunch that my dad made me last night, just like when I was growing up. I went by my church and my parents' office and saw several familiar faces. And the other things will come in time. I have a month to re-adjust to life outside of a homeless shelter. Tonight I'm going to On the Deck, a kind of Catholic youth group for college kids in Atlanta. It will be nice to be with kids my own age again and do "normal" things like eat burgers and talk about majors. There are several important holidays coming up (birthdays and anniversaries) that will keep me busy too. That's the key right now, keeping busy. Then I don't think about how my friends are doing back in Rochester, and for right now, I can't handle thinking about them too much.

The house (in Rochester) is closing for two weeks to do repairs and stuff, as it does every year. I'm hoping and praying that they all had a place to go and that the transition is going smoothly. The silence is oppressive- I'm all alone in my house right now. I haven't been all alone in a building in a long time. I miss their voices and laughter and constant requests. I'll get used to this nagging ache eventually, but it's going to take some time before I really feel at home in my own house.

The middle of the bridge

I have a childhood memory, or maybe just a strong memory from a dream, of standing on the middle of a bridge over a river that formed a state line, one foot in each state. I'm kind of like that now. I've been here for about four weeks, and I have about four weeks to go. "Here," by the way, is a Catholic Worker House in upstate NY. I'm living and spending most of my days serving here, in the somewhat odd position of a staff member without much authority or her own shifts.

It's been wonderful so far. I have learned so much here about so many things, including a lot of insights into myself. It's incredible. I'm journaling as much as I can so I won't miss anything, and I know that I'll also come to understand more stuff when I get home and have some time to reflect. There are ups and downs and big bundles of crises that make us think the house is just falling apart, but there are also a lot of ways to learn peace and patience. Most of the time, when thinking about the house, I just sit back and marvel. It's incredible (I know, I've already used this sentence once in this paragraph, but it is so true). I know I'm not getting into enough detail now to satisfy anyone, but I'm still in the middle of it and truly stepping back to analyze where I'm at is hard. Basically: nobody worry about me, my summer is beautiful.

The times that it's difficult to be here are not what I thought they would be. I was all worried about missing friends and family and special events back home. I was a little homesick at first, especially my first day when the prospect of eight weeks in a strange city where I didn't know a soul was just a lot to handle. But really, that wore off pretty fast. What's been hardest has been learning how to balance being compassionate with protecting myself. Everyone, during my first week, told me to remember to give myself free time away from the house or I would burn out. But it's also all to easy to isolate myself and not let myself be present with these women through their pain. How much easier it is to read a book at night than to listen with full attention to the difficulties our guests have faced during their days. At first I was writing letters, reading, and journaling every night. Now I try to make time for journaling before falling into bed. My time belongs to them while I'm here. I take my breaks when I know that I've become too self-centered on my own inner problems to be able to be fully attentive to them. It's a continual struggle to be passionately compassionate. To listen with all of my mind and heart is the greatest gift I can give these women who are so often sidelined and quietly ignored.

So that's where I am. I won't lie, I will enjoy being home in an environment that is much more secure and supporting than being here, but I wouldn't leave here until I have to for the world, and I will cry when it's time to say goodbye. I am home in such an irrevocable way. I hope everyone is doing well and taking care of themselves! Love you guys.

With Donna, the awesome/insane/brilliant lady who directs this place with the rest of the staff, at a hermitage near a Benedictine monastery about 2 hours away.

I'm off for my eight weeks of service learning in the morning. Happy summer, everyone! I'll be back in July.

Notes from my perch on the eve of final exams week

In one week, I will be home and done with a year of college. In two weeks, I will be in New York and starting a whole new adventure.

This is supposed to evoke feelings of excitement.

I'm ready to leave, but not ready for eight weeks of service. Mostly, I am worried about missing things. I knew some things would have to be missed: my brother's twelfth birthday, my pastor's fortieth anniversary of being a priest, and the ordination of my favorite seminarian. Now I'm also missing the last Gold Award ceremony for my circle of Girl Scout friends and a weekend in Charleston with high school friends.

Blasted Facebook. The invites will continue to come in for events. Pictures will be posted from things I never even knew were happening.

I have a jealousy problem. I know this. Being left out, then finding out about it later, always hurts. Facebook is excellent at showing me, as soon as I log in, photos of my friends out together. Inevitably, I end up questioning my priorities. If I had gone to more club meetings instead of studying, would they have invited me? What if I had been more present instead of needing to leave to go to bed on time? Have I been too preoccupied? It's hopeless, really, and kind of absurd. Facebook photos are going to cause me to slowly die from stress.

Fortunately, I will limit my online time this summer as much as possible. The way to reach me will be through the house's phone if it's urgent, or letters if it's not. Cell phone voicemail and email will be checked max of once a week. I'm looking forward to the freedom. I just hope it won't be too lonely.

So I'm waiting outside of my Spanish classroom to take my oral final. I've stared at my notes for too long and they're starting to run together. The caffeine at my side isn't helping much. Today's something of a marathon for me- almost worse than finals. After I take my oral exam, I turn in a term paper for my next class (International Relations). Then I have a break to eat. In English, I'm giving a presentation instead of turning in a term paper. My partner and I have sort of written a skit/ conversation between two characters from works we've read this semester. I'm Emi from Tropic of Orange, if that helps anyone. Should be interesting. Then I'm turning in a semester-long project in my last class, Peace Studies.

But it's all good (prepare yourself for mushiness) because tonight I will be swept off my feet and taken to some exciting dining location. Yes, my dears, today my boyfriend and I have been together for eighteen months. Life is beautiful.

Just Thoughts

Things like projects, papers, and finals are pulling at the edge of my attention, but I'm too far away to settle down to that. Little things preoccupy me- did you know that preocupado means "worried" in Spanish? So maybe little things worry me. Confusion and trepidation and something like silent hysteria. Maybe it's because I'm finishing my first year of college in two weeks, and who knows what that means. Maybe I feel no wiser or stronger or in touch with myself. Maybe someone from my past wrote something just the right way to make me think back and sigh. Maybe I can't get the sound of the shuffling of an old man's feet out of my head. He moved his cane an inch, then his feet, step-step. Maybe I'm thinking of the thunderstorm that broke furiously five minutes later, and wondering if he made it to shelter. Maybe I'm thinking that in three weeks I'll be in New York, and good grief what was I thinking. Maybe I'm thinking of the robin perching on the handlebars of a bike yesterday, singing with all its might and breaking my heart. Maybe I think too much.

Why does life so often feel like something to get through? If I just write these papers, finish these projects and presentations, study for these finals, pack this stuff, drive this car back home, then I'll have time to actually live. But I never have the time.

Yay Spring.

Gun Control

A blog I follow posted a rather moving argument for more gun control today, here. On this topic, I have three things to say that summarize my feelings:

1. I'm not sure where I stand on using the current VT situation to further political agendas. On one hand, it feels irreverent. On the other, it makes sense to use the public outcry to get reforms that have needed to happen for a while.
2. Rather than making an argument for more gun control based on statistics, I will merely say that the scariest moment in my life thus far was when I was in 5th grade, and a shooting occurred at a high school near my house. I went to grade school 30+ minutes away from home, so I was in no danger, but thanks to the widespread policy of educational institutions to not tell their kids what's going on, I lived in complete terror all day, not knowing if the shooter had been caught. My parents' office was very close by the school, as was my house where my beloved babysitter/adopted 3rd grandmother and baby brother were. When my mom came to pick me up from school at the end of the day, I sobbed and sobbed out of relief. I'll never forget that feeling of desperate fear. Better gun control could have kept a gun out of that kid's hands.
3. Joey, and other boyfriends I might have in the future, have been/will be strictly informed that should they marry me, they will not, under any circumstances, be allowed to keep a gun in my house. I made this decision the day after the shooting when I was in 5th grade.
   

Peace Studies Professor George Lopez: Class, what happened between 1950 and 1960?

Class: um...

PSPGL: BABIES!!!

I love peace studies.

So here's a thought: I'm going to try to write a blog entry in which I don't go on about my busy-ness and commitments. Because really, one can only do that for so long before it gets really irritating, and I think I passed that point a few months ago.

Instead, I'm stealing a blog idea from my blogging friend Tia over at Living Deliberately, who today wrote about simple pleasures. I thought about her attention to simple pleasures while going about my business today, and it improved my mood dramatically.

Simple pleasures I noted today:

• Paved, not carpeted, sidewalks. My job at the music department involves dragging around a huge lime green suitcase full of recording equipment, and it really is much easier to pull it on pavement than carpeting. Well done whoever came up with that idea.
• Raisins- they are really very delightful little morsels. I'm a fan. Also good for keeping up blood sugar in the middle of the day.
  
• Deserted student center lounges on Saturday nights. It makes me happy to feel like I have my own space.
• Thick gloves in chilly wind. I'm not a fan of numbness.
• The "change language" option on Blogger. Tonight I switched my language to Spanish, put my latest composition for Spanish class in an entry, and ran a spell check. Very helpful in finding where I missed accent marks.
  
• A website that provides links to places where tv shows and movies have been uploaded to the internet. I finally got around to watching Breakfast at Tiffany's- what a crazy, heartwarming, adorable movie.

Feel free to join me- we could all use more causes for cheerfulness :-)

Geez.

I guess I have been pretty awful about taking time to write here. I'm not dead (Linda, O Leaver of Desperate-Sounding Comments, you should know that, you saw me last week). I am, however, exceedingly busy. This semester doesn't feel worse than last semester work-wise, but it is. Hello, real college classes with real college finals (i.e. cumulative and no study guides). I'm also working, not a lot, but some, and those hours have to come from somewhere.

Next semester isn't looking much easier, but I think that's good. I was elected Membership Chair for Right to Life, so I'll have all sorts of officer duties and things. I made it on the Experiential Learning Council, so I'll be helping with the service learning seminars through the Center for Social Concerns (I went on one over Christmas, the Urban Plunge, and I'll be going on one this summer called the Summer Service Learning Program). I have declared a PoliSci major and a Catholic Social Tradition minor, with a Peace Studies supplementary major to follow as soon as I get the form signed. I'm official, as it were. All of that is in preparation for course registration, which is turning out to be quite the headache as no one can agree if I'm currently a sophomore or a freshman. Silly bureaucracy. I applied for a grad-research-in-undergrad sort of program through the Kellogg Institute for International Studies, and I'm hoping that I get into that. I'd work with one of the fellows next year on his research and then do research of my own, eventually writing a thesis. I'm also going to keep my job at the Music Department through next semester, with the hope that, if I got into this research program, eventually that would become my work-study. I also want to get back involved in Amnesty International and maybe take swing dancing lessons. I'm still deciding whether I want to work with Take Ten, a conflict resolution education program in area schools, next semester, but I've enjoyed it this semester. I also need to decide if I want to work with leading some of the freshman programs through campus ministry that I've been involved in this year, such as freshman retreats and freshman peer leaders. Lots to do, not enough hours.

That's where I am. Crazy, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities popping up all around me all the time. Good times.

English class exercises

My English teacher wants us to write one crisp, descriptive, "shining" paragraph about our lives every day for the next five days. Here is my first one; I might post the others as I write them. This one is about a violence-prevention program I teach to middle schoolers called Take Ten.


My face furrows in a frown in the midst of a lecture on Carl Shmitt (he was a Nazi, you know, but his logic is everywhere in the speeches of the most unlikely politicians). I have let my thoughts escape the classroom and dwell upon the events looming in my schedule. A commitment has just resurfaced in my memory, and I grieve for the time that it will consume. I perform time management calculus in my head. Because of the lost three hours, my homework load will anchor me to my desk and keep me from another lecture I had hoped to attend tonight, on a topic far more interesting to me than political theory. But there is no escaping it; my afternoon is destined to be spent in a room full of children, trying to read, sing, and laugh my way into their hearts, so that they might accept the message I have to offer. I want to show them (not tell them) that no matter what their role models might do, engaging in violence and intolerance is no way to live a life (after all, we only have one life to live). My frown now is directed at the clock, whose hands are keeping me from giggles and shouts, proudly-held jaws and folded arms.

My second "living will"

The first was when I agreed to put the "donate organs" icon on my driver's license. The second, which I just electronically "signed", says this:

"I hereby declare that should I die as a result of a violent crime, I request that the person or persons found guilty of homicide for my killing not be subject to or put in jeopardy of the death penalty under any circumstances, no matter how heinous their crime or how much I may have suffered."

The fuller version is here.

Want to sign too?

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Honey, I'm home

I feel moderately guilty that I'm not going on a mission trip to Appalachia (like my friends Alicia and Kristi) or Guatemala (like my friend Michael) or on a class-based/ educational trip to Rome (like John) or London (like Christine). Instead, I am home, sitting in my chair in my room. I intend to relax, see friends, get a lot of course reading done, and spend excessive amounts of time doing what I want, when I want. Selfish? Maybe. But also good for the soul. And in the absence of the funds necessary for the adventures my friends are having, this was probably my best choice of spring break plans.

So this is what being a peace studies kid means

I rarely cry in movies. When I do, it's just a tear or two escaping my eyes.

Tonight, I sobbed into my boyfriend's shoulder, not just once, but several times.

We went to go see Casino Royale. He'd seen it and liked it, I had heard it was a decent Bond movie. $3 a piece through the student union board. I'm so glad now that none of our friends could come with us.

Throughout the first 2/3rds of the movie, the violence seemed excessive, but I could handle it. I wasn't enjoying myself, per se, but I was still chuckling at the jokes. Then Bond gets captured. The torture scene was the most graphic one I had ever seen. Even now, it's replaying in my head, and I'm crying again. The way he slumped in the chair, the moans. The fact that he was naked and stripped of his dignity. I know he wasn't really being hurt. I didn't even like his character that much. But I just finished reading The Human Security Report 2005, which gives as detailed statistics as we know them about things like torture. It didn't bother me severely to read it- I was more just trying to get through the raw data to be able to use it in a paper. It's different to get a visual and audio representation of a little bit of the suffering you've been reading about for a semester.

Anyway, I lost it. I cried the hardest I've ever cried in a theater. And then I couldn't handle the rest of the violence in the movie, either, and it didn't help that the ending message was something along the lines of trust no one but yourself, love doesn't work as an alternative.

O God, hear my voice and grant our world your peace.
Hear my voice,
it is the voice of the victims of all wars and violence;

Hear my voice,
it is the voice of all children
who suffer when we put our faith in weapons and war;

Hear my voice,
for I speak for those in every country
and in every period of history
who do not want war and are ready to walk the road of peace;

O God, hear my voice and grant our world your peace.

Send us your Holy Spirit,
instil into the hearts of all people
the wisdom of peace,
the strength of justice
and the joy of fellowship

so that we may respond
to hatred with courage and love,
to injustice with dedication to truth,
to suffering and need
by the compassionate sharing of ourselves,
to war with the non-violence of Jesus,
who brings hope and peace.

O God, hear my voice
and grant our world your peace.

Amen.

from http://www.carmelite.com/prayer/peace.shtml

Whoa, I'm taking care of myself?

I was just thinking about my study habits recently. I'm in the midst of the craziness of midterms. At one point, I had two exams and three papers in three days, but now one of those papers has been moved to Monday. My schedule for the week now is Intl Relations exam Wednesday, Continental Poli Thought paper due Wednesday (already done), and Peace Studies paper due Wed (also done). I had a Spanish midterm this morning. Granted, I lucked out that my English paper isn't due until Monday (along with a Spanish composition and a major Peace Studies paper), but I'm actually on top of things. And I relaxed while working really hard, which is the amazing thing. I went to a basketball game and a concert on Saturday (both of which were fabulous!) and to a hockey game friday night. Since when do I give myself that much time off? Go me! Oh, and I worked 16.5 hours last week, so maybe I might start making money now!

Sometimes a pat on the back or two is necessary for sanity.

Ups and Downs

So the day started off very well with me getting a lot done and then Joey bringing me Chickfila for breakfast midway through the morning. He now has a trump card when I'm annoyed with him ("but I brought you Chickfila"). He had to brave two cab companies, both of which took advantage of him. But the food was good!

I've been working hard trying to get everything out of the way. I wanted to go to a basketball and a hockey game today, but I ended up just going to the bball game. I've got an extremely busy week ahead of me, so the more I can get ahead, the better.

I lost thirty bucks today, fresh from the ATM. I don't know how. I was more than a little unhappy, so much so that I missed the first ten minutes of the bball game to go back and look. It was really windy though, so any hope of no one picking it up was dashed by the fact that it would have been blown away. It's not that huge of a deal. I am pretty short on money right now, but seriously, it's not like I have to worry where my next meal is going to come from. I just hope that my $30 makes it to someone who needs it. P.S. the basketball game was awesome.

In other news, life is sometimes very difficult to bear with patience. You do everything right and you still end up in a bad place. Nothing can fix that. You deal and try to ignore it when it gets to be too much. Sometimes that's all there is left to do. In the end, you remind yourself that things will get better, people do care about you, and no one can take away your smile unless you let them. And on your way you go.

lenten thoughts

Lent doesn't start until Ash Wednesday, of course, but my lovely seasonal black book has already started as of yesterday. Every little (insert liturgical color) book starts off with a page urging you to examine your goals for the special Church season. Then the rest of the book has daily six-minute meditations on appropriate scripture for the season, plus a page of tidbits and trivia.

In thinking about my goals for Lent, the usual suspects came to mind. Give up Starbucks! (With, as my boyfriend pointed out, the ulterior motive of saving money). Give up chocolate! (with the ulterior motive of eating more healthily, which I need to do anyway). Joey is very good about pointing out the shortcomings in my shortcuts. So tonight I sat still for a bit and thought about Lenten goals for real. Let me tell a short story first so my thoughts make more sense.

Last Sunday I worked my first recital for the music department. The audience filed past me into the auditorium, taking a program each. One was an old man wrapped in many layers of mismatched winter gear. I couldn't figure out from looking at him if he was homeless or just a little eccentric. Another worker told me that he'd been warned that this guy comes to most, if not all, recitals.

The performer had ordered two vases of flowers, one for the stage next to her and one for the back table near the entrance. The man kindly took a program from me and continued on, but drew up short at the sight of the flowers. "Real flowers!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to bury his face in them, breathing deeply. The joy on his face was heartwarming, even if I was a bit shocked by his behavior.

While thinking quietly tonight, I realized, I want that kind of joy. The joy at things as simple as a vase of flowers in the middle of winter. Not only do I want it for myself, but I want to be able to transmit it to others. I struggle a lot with finding ways to love certain people in my life, especially when overt gestures of love are harshly criticized. The key, I concluded, is prayer. Prayer for them can only help our relationships, and prayer can deepen my appreciation of little gifts and ultimately lead to joy.

I tend to sideline prayer. In a life in which everything is mentally scheduled, prayer just doesn't make it very often into my daily routine. It's hard to find a spare moment, especially when I have the energy to focus. I also struggle with feeling fulfilled in prayer, like I'm holding a conversation with someone who loves me, not just a wall. So maybe I don't try because I don't want to feel so inadequate. I don't want to face nagging doubts about whether God is really there. It's much easier not to try.

But as I've seen, I miss out on so much without a good relationship with God. So, my Lenten goal is to try. Not to feel better, not to necessarily find joy, but just to try.

Happy things

Sometimes you just need to make a list of everything that's going right in your life to remind yourself that life really does rock.

• friends calling and text messaging to offer love and support
• a boyfriend who takes such good care of me
• Rector and RA who genuinely take an interest in my life and want to help
• lots more events during weekends on campus this semester- Ragtime, Chinese New Year Celebration, Brazilian carnival
• (slowly) learning how to dance and look good while doing it
• pierogi at the dining hall
  
• throwing my first party (dedicated to happiness and love, not drinking)
• feeling like the songs I'm playing for guitar class are actually sort of pretty
• having enough self-discipline to sleep at normal hours and not waste weekends sleeping
• lots of apples-to-apples playing
• random memories about special people in my life (Mr. Bird making fun of the afternoon announcements girl, who liked to yell into the microphone and scare him)
  
• singing the salve regina when no one's in my room
• feet of snow, and jumping in huge piles of it
• Joey finding a latin translation attributed to our deceased and dearly loved latin teacher on a polish website
• lovely pictures sent via cell phone from my mom
• quiet library space and time to get work done.

Yeah, life is good.

to be humble

I'm finding that humility leads to being trampled on and used, which makes me think that I've got the idea of humility wrong. How do you put others first while still taking care of yourself?

Note to self

There is absolutely nothing wrong with me that a couple of hours spent with a good novel in a completely empty, quiet, softly lit dorm room won't cure.

More than anything, I miss my huge comfy Queen Anne-style reclining chair that I got for my seventeenth birthday. I also deeply miss the quiet and solitude of my room. It's so strange how you can be around tons of people and feel lonely, but be alone and feel complete. That was an emo thing to say.

I have my first Spanish test tomorrow, and no, I am not ready. I am also deathly afraid I will oversleep because I have been not sleeping well.

Spring break plans are still up in the air. My current favored plan is going to Chicago via train for the first weekend, hanging out with my favorite Northwestern girl, then swinging through a grocery store on my way back and holing up in my empty dorm, assuming I can find a job for the week on campus. There were jobs offered over fall break that paid pretty well. I need the money, and the time alone to do whatever I want (i.e. cross stitch and read happy books that aren't about running the world or war or dead babies) sounds pretty freaking amazing. We'll see.

Brr.

I got an email from my mom yesterday that read something like this: “You haven’t called and you aren’t even updating your blog. Are you ok?!” The answer (which, being a good daughter, I told her in a phone call last night) is that yes, I am ok, just taking “real” college classes for the first time (not intros) and that keeps me very, very busy, especially with everything else I’m doing on the side this semester. But it’s a good busy, really.

The weather is extremely cold- last night we watched WeatherBug, hoping that we would get up to a whole degree, not just .4 of one. But it’s definitely manageable. I can’t stand being outside much more than the 10-15 minutes it takes to get from building to building, but I can handle that. The weirdest part is when you’re outside, the mucous in your nose starts to freeze, and suddenly it feels like you have very huge boogers in your nose. It goes back to normal soon after getting back inside. I really thought the weather was going to be a lot worse that it has been so far. I was expecting feet of snow, driving wind all the time, and the rumored permacloud (solid cloud wall for months). We have a foot of snow and the natives here are like “wow, I can’t believe we got so much so fast! This hasn’t happened in years!” I mean, schools are cancelled, and have been for a few days. Oh. Ok. Maybe I overdid the worrying. There is also no permacloud to be seen. It’s about half cloudy and half sunny. The wind is bad when it’s here, but it’s not omnipresent.

Maybe I should be thanking God rather than complaining. Hmm.

Of course, Joey is coping much better than I am. Only Joey would complain, when it is literally 1 degree outside, that he got too hot on the way over from his dorm. Yes, in one degree weather, my boyfriend managed to be overdressed. Good grief.

The Dorm Formal Pictures

AAAHH

Life has been SO FREAKING BUSY lately, but maybe things are starting to settle into a routine for the semester? Just so that my loves back home won't think I've fallen off the face of the earth, here's what's going on in my life- maybe soon I can start posting something coherent again.

Friday I fell on the uber-slippery ice and smacked my tailbone, so I spent most of Friday afternoon/evening/night chilling on my futon trying to be comfortable. Joey even ordered in dinner for me. But the upside was I got to watch Mr. and Mrs. Smith instead of decorating the dorm for our spirit week, which was a pretty good tradeoff. I love my understanding RA.

Yesterday Joey and I attempted to navigate the public transportation system and get to Target, despite our respective injuries (his foot/shin has been having issues since the March). We ended up spending all of the morning and the first half of the afternoon on this endeavor. It was necessary, but it makes me really really want a car. I got Chick-fil-A at the mall to console myself. It worked.

Last night was my dorm's formal, which was infinitely better than the halloween dance and pretty much a blast. I'll try to get pictures up later. I looked decent considering my mom's best friend wasn't around to do my hair. The best part was that it snowed many inches last night before the dance started but after the plows had retired for the day, so we trekked over to the dance, which was held in a building about ten minutes away, with me wearing sweatpants under my dress, boots, and a parka and trying to keep my hem out of the snow. Good times.

Right now I'm holed up in the library doing homework. In between everything else, little of that has gotten done this weekend. Tonight I'm lectoring at our dorm's spirit week's closing Mass, at which the president of the university happens to be presiding. Apparently there's a wine and cheese reception to follow? I kid you not. They better have grape juice for us little ones.

I think that's everything. OH and I watched ND beat Villanova yesterday in men's basketball, which was ridiculously intense. Tomorrow night Joey and I start our Latin dancing class- I'm pretty excited. Ok, now maybe that's everything. Back to work. :-)

Hesburgh rocks the casbah

Tonight the extraordinary man known as Fr. Ted Hesburgh hung out in my dorm's chapel and shared a few stories and words of wisdom. My favorite:

"Yeah, they've got bright kids, but you're bright kids. Ok, they've got some stuff that we don't, I guess- like dope."
-Father Theodore Martin Hesburgh, on Harvard

The best part is, he has every right to say that because he worked there for a while as chairperson of the board of faculty or something like that. He's my hero.

Good grief, I misspelled the title of my last post.

I'm back (again)- this time from a long weekend in D.C.

Stories and details might be forthcoming if homework allows, of which there is currently a large amount. And by large, I mean ginourmous.

But the upside is, I just spent the weekend touring DC and protesting about a cause I believe in (the annual March for Life was yesterday) with some of the best friends I have at ND. Totally, completely, 100% worth it.

Committments thus far this semester

Subtitle: Not to impress anyone, but so I can look back on my insane self and laugh.

• 5 classes, plus P.E. (none are only freshman now. all were last semester. I just launched myself into real college classes)
• Take Ten- working in a local community learning center to teach violence-prevention and conflict-resolution techniques.
  
• Latin dancing class with Joseph.
• Freshman Peer Leaders Small Group (and occaisionally Big Group), Right to Life, Peace Fellowship, Four:7, and maybe Amnesty.
  
• Working 3 hours/ week in the music department, plus weekend events.
• Guitar II- an extra expense, but if I don't continue now, I'll lose what I've learned on the instrument all over again, and I WILL NOT take Guitar I again. Ew.
• Maybe photographing for Scholastic?
• And of course basketball games, hockey games, Chicago trips, and everything else that comes with being a ND student.
• Maybe I should make time for Joey and friends, too.

I'm scared and excited.

Very full weeks

So I know I haven't posted for over a week, and normally this is blasphemy, but I promise I've been super busy. Really. Early Wednesday I left for my Urban Plunge experience in Mobile, AL- an educational seminar on urban poverty in which I was exposed to just about every major charity in Mobile. I got back late Friday night, at which point I ditched my suitcase, threw my toiletry bag in my other suitcase, and took it with me camping near Rutledge, GA, arriving at our cabin around midnight. I hung out with my beautiful Girl Scout friends, then came home early Sunday morning to shower, wash clothes, and go to Mass. Mom repacked my stuff ingeniously such that all of my belongings and a sleeping bag fit into two bags. Then Dad and I were off to the airport, and the rest of the day Sunday was spent travelling back to Notre Dame. Today I bought my books, freaked out at the price tag, re-bought my books using many gift cards on Amazon.com, unpacked all of my stuff, caught up on email, watched Moulin Rouge, and made cappuccino cookie dough milkshakes.

Tomorrow classes start again. Fortunately I have only one class tomorrow, as my other one isn't meeting yet. But this one class happens to be known as Continental Political Thought, and it involves ten large books by authors like Weber, Nietzsche, and Marx. Plans for later in the week include more first classes, breaking it to my Monday professors that I won't be in class on Monday, and a trip to D.C. to walk in the March for Life, a huge abortion protest and rally.

I should probably be intimidated, but right now, I'm too tired.