Vague Philosophical Musings on Fall Semester 2010

Post finals, post packing and traveling, sitting at the kitchen table in a slower paced section of lifestyles it is easy to gloss the semester into “a learning experience” and move on without actually learning anything. What was demonstrable, if anything, in the last semester, that should be carried foward for furture reference? 

1.   One will mess up, and one will make the same mistakes multiple times: No, that is not my excuse for habitual burnout. But, I do think it is necessary that we give ourselves some grace in the penance department. That was a lot of religious rhetoric in one sentence and it is probably in misuse; someone can chew me out for that later. The mistakes are, in essence, the same, but there are leaves of difference that can be found, and those are often signs of growth, of change.

2.   Let’s break that down a bit more—one will mess up. Hi, me llamo Not Perfect. Cannot be, will never be anything but a human being. Call it Total Depravity or Human Stupidity Syndrome or What Makes Life Interesting, it is an inevitable reality.

3.   The Reaction is What Matters. It has been established: we mess up. Now what? Or is it messing up? Everything comes down to a choice of movement. Rewriting past choices is not an option but moving is.

I think this, moving, is the most important bit of knowledge that has become more and more a reality to me in the last several years. I will never know what is next. I have already made the mistake of staking x, y, and z on these carefully laid, intricate, unattainable goals and plans, and now I’m in a state of dizzy confusion, blurry minded, now what?! Move. Quit sitting, wallowing, frazzling, just move. Forward or backward, up or down are quasi-irrelevant terms at this point. “Quasi” because sometimes there are informative tidbits called past-experience and because sometimes our perceptions of direction are completely skewed, but usually both. And, yes, it stinks now: I’ve messed up and all I can see are consequences. And looking back one can say: that was a horrid decision. But was it? All strings attached are somehow attached to the present, and would change that one mistake for the sake of retrospect? Most likely not. The mistake has been made and the options are to move or not to move. Move. 

Exam Week Edibles

I am firmly against the readily spewed rhetoric asserting that one eats crud during exams. Sorry.
Okay, so last night I did. And I regretted it after one piece of pizza.

But tonight was not gross. Exam week is end of the semester, so it does mean some creative mixing to use the why-did-I-buy-this and make last as long as possible the favorites, seeing as the purchasing period has passed until next semester, or in my case, next fall. That means use everything that cannot sit in storage over the next semester and summer.

Yeah, the photo quality stinks, I'll need to fix that before I go to Spain. Peas! Except, I'm not that excited about them. I bought them to ice my foot, and now I'm eating them. Yum. But yum when mixed with carrots (which I always, always have), brown rice, red onion, garlic, curry powder, and ginger powder in a skillet with water and oil (or butter, whatever is available). Delicioso! Of course potatoes would have been a lovely addition, but I can keep that in mind for next year.

The Persuasion of Lyme

[Working on an essay for The British Novel and reached a point regarding possibly one of my favorite paragraphs in Persuasion. Thought I'd share just for kicks.]
“. . . with the very beautiful line of cliffs stretching out to the east of town . . . [the] scenes in its neighbourhood, Charmouth, with its high grounds and extensive sweeps of country, and still more its sweet retired bay, backed by dark cliffs, where fragments of low rock among sands make it the happiest spot for watching the flow of the tide, for sitting in unwearied contemplation . . .” (89)
[My thoughts]: Lyme presents novelty to almost all involved, and it is a striking novelty, as evidenced by Austen’s attention to its description. The assertion that “a very strange stranger it must be, who does not see the charms in the immediate environs of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better” (89) is enough to suggest that the scenery persuades one to forget and lose oneself in the greater surrounding picture. Anne is persuaded.
[If anyone actually reads this and has read the book, favorite descriptions?]

The Big Brownie

Okay, so Grand Rapids is not as palatable as chocolate, or at least no with such frequency. But brownies and today have something in common.


Today we are getting are first sticking snow, our first real snow of the season, and I love it! I love the first snow because of the smell, the crispness of the air, and the likeness to the shaking of powdered sugar over brownies: when it is done gently and evenly, the brownie gradually disappears under a blanket of sugar (well, one typically stops before that). The first snow is so similar, and I can't help but get so excited.


Walking to class this morning, it was all I could do not to drop my back pack and go skuttling around in circles with my mouth open, tongue out, grinning like there's no tomorrow. I do miss California winters, the wet season, the lulling crisp and cleansing rains but in exchange for standing out in the first rain, bare-foot and silly, I stand out in the first sticking snow, just as delighted, as the shimmering flakes swirl and dance.

A Moment of Calm

Professors are cool. That reads sooo eloquently, doesn't it? But I do mean it.

Sunday evening, our CAS professor had the class over for a pre-Thanksgiving dinner. And it was wonderful. She has a fireplace in her home, a real, wood-burning fireplace. The paint in the room, the furniture, the trim were warm and welcoming. Homes are beautiful, beautiful places. We sat around the living room in an oblong circle, talked some, had some measures of silence, met her younger son (who was quite adorable), laughed, shared a sliver of life for a moment . . . it took me by surprise, the calm, the peace, the welcome, the feeling of home.

Jealousy

I admit, I am a glutton for punishment. I love my CAS class.
CAS: Communication Arts and Sciences.
CAS 101: Oral Rhetoric

Yeah, uh, speeches. So the concept of my loving the class and its contents seem a little contradictory. And it is, to an extent. I love the challenge. I love that it is familiar but new. I love that the professor is passionate about her teaching.

This is what gets me jazzed on subjects. When the subject is somehow familiar and new at once, and the professor/teacher/lecturer cares very much about the subject, about the students/audience, and pushes for a cohesive understanding of that subject, with perhaps the hope for genuine appreciation.

Anyway. Where does that jealousy element come into play? Our professor is going to a conference, so we don't have class next Monday. The conference is in San Francisco. !! I want to go to California. I sent her a list of to-dos (which is a joke as I've been in-in San Fran, what, twice?), the primary obligation being to watch the sun set into the ocean.

My ignorance of the area makes me want to do something there, to get to know San Fran. Is that weird or what? Me, want to get to know a city . . .

November Thoughts

This morning the sunrise was astounding. Not at first. At first I went to the field behind DeVos and decided that although watching the sunrise is more about the peace than the painting, this uneventful color scheme could be passed over for presentation preperation. Once the library had opened and I trucked up to the fifth floor, I looked east to see the sun peaking up, dripping with color.
It was all I could do to not run. I moved as quickly as my non running feet would take me back under the Beltline (all I wanted to do was take off my shoes and run, I was so excited), slipped off my flats, and moved up the hill to field bare-foot. It was gorgeous. I must have been there a half an hour, freezing my feet off until I finally bid goodbye to the horizon to clean up and head back to homework--but, oh! What a sight.
Mornings are best quiet. I suppose it isn't truly quiet with the Beltline roaring behind or Burton humming ahead, but there aren't voices. The birds chatter, squirrels fidget, the wind blows the switches of the willows, geese honk, but inside is a silent well of joy, of peace, of I think I can make it through this day after all.
Sunset was phenomenal also. Although I was constricted to the apartment and theology readings, from the sliding door the sky was permeated with pink . . .
Michigan has something I'm not used to, something that scared me at first, but something I have learned to love: a big sky. I can't imagine it bigger, but know it must be in the prarie states and parts of the south. The immensity is amplified by the distinction between land and sky (it cannot not mingle with any ocean) and the events that parade across daily. I'll miss this sky someday. For now, I'll just enjoy it. Mornings. Mornings in Michigan are the best part of November 2010 thus far.