Suddenly, it's September, and I've been gone for months and months.
I'm back at school. The leaves are beginning to change. I'm doing new things but thinking old things, and some days, my brain feels like spaghetti.
I spent my summer working at a camp. My days were full of Band-aids and hugs and a lot of laughter, and sometimes some timeouts, but I loved it. Even though those kids could run me down like a race car.
I was ready, really ready, to get back to school in August. To keep myself on my toes, I changed things up with my major and shuffled my class schedule like a pack of playing cards, but now I'm safely tucked back into college days. Life is normal again.
......Well......
If you don't count the 2:30 AM fire drills, the girls shouting down the hall, coffee and piano music, sock monkey footie pajamas, late nights every night, poetry, excursions to far-off cigar shops, meddling in one another's love lives and forgetting the papaya rotting in the fridge, lost socks and bobby pins and where did I put my binder, vanishing car keys and oh my goodness how will I finish this in time, I have no money, let's stay up all night studying and smoking--or we could just go take a walk.......
And it's so good to be home.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Thoughts on the Dance Floor
On Sunday nights, the university sponsors swing dancing in the student union. The music blares, the doors are flung open, and couples hit the floor.
I will give it to the guys there--they do their best. They go out of their way to make sure that no girl is without a partner, that each one is comfortable and enjoying herself. It's witnessing things like that--the best and most attractive dancer in the room inviting a shy, bespectacled freshman girl out onto the dance floor--that make me think, I like nice men.
It's something I increasingly take for granted, chivalrous men. After all, I go to a small, conservative, Christian university where old-school values are still going strong. There are all sorts of people here, of course, but for the most part, the men are beautiful.
There's something really cool about men, well, being men.
So I think--shouldn't I take it for granted?
Shouldn't this be our standard, this manly, courteous, gentle, thoughtful kind of man?
So, swing dancing.
I headed over to the student union late last night, never expecting to get roped into dancing. When I got there, I found a friend of mine--we'll call him John--standing on the sidelines and watching the action. On seeing me, his face brightened and he bounded over, holding out his hand.
I said, "Huh?"
Then his intention grew clear: I was to go out onto the floor with him, amid the couple twirling in graceful circles like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and dance.
Don't get me wrong. I like to dance. I would even say that I'm a decent dancer. Growing up, I took a lot of dance lessons, mostly ballroom stuff, but it's all been filed away in my memory now. I do not like looking silly, and as I didn't know what I was doing, I pretty soon found myself being forcibly bereft of my wallet and coat and carried onto the dance floor. I probably fought a little, but I'm five foot two, and no match for two guys.
John said, "Take some risks. It's an adventure."
So I shut up. And just a side note--to John, who will never read this blog post--you are a fantastic leader. You relaxed me, you helped me follow and made me laugh. It was lovely.
I was enjoying it in spite of myself, if I ignored the couples around us who were, quite literally, flying through the air. When the dance was over, John kissed my hand (!!) and left me. A moment later he was spinning fearlessly with another partner.
Someone else asked me to dance. It was different, dancing with a total stranger (OK, not a stranger. We actually met last semester during a Pittsburgh ministry, but he didn't remember, so I didn't remind him). There was a lot more talking than twirling. When the song was over, he said, "May I have another dance? I'm really enjoying talking to you."
Whoa.
And even though I fumbled, he kept me laughing. When I left at 11:30, I still couldn't banish my smile. The exercise had done me good, and I felt flushed walking out into the chilly evening.
I know people say chivalry is dead. A lot of them even say good riddance. I get it. I do. At the same time, I think we've lost so much by doing away with that courtesy, that measure of respect for one another. There I was, standing uncomfortably on the sidelines with my clumsy shoes and my shambled heart, and the attention of these two boys--one a friend, the other a (semi-)stranger--made me feel feminine and pretty. And I even had fun.
This is why we treasure the princes of fairy tales and fall in love with story heroes. To those boys who dare to be chivalrous, thank you. You don't know how much we girls ache for real men.
I will give it to the guys there--they do their best. They go out of their way to make sure that no girl is without a partner, that each one is comfortable and enjoying herself. It's witnessing things like that--the best and most attractive dancer in the room inviting a shy, bespectacled freshman girl out onto the dance floor--that make me think, I like nice men.
It's something I increasingly take for granted, chivalrous men. After all, I go to a small, conservative, Christian university where old-school values are still going strong. There are all sorts of people here, of course, but for the most part, the men are beautiful.
There's something really cool about men, well, being men.
So I think--shouldn't I take it for granted?
Shouldn't this be our standard, this manly, courteous, gentle, thoughtful kind of man?
So, swing dancing.
I headed over to the student union late last night, never expecting to get roped into dancing. When I got there, I found a friend of mine--we'll call him John--standing on the sidelines and watching the action. On seeing me, his face brightened and he bounded over, holding out his hand.
I said, "Huh?"
Then his intention grew clear: I was to go out onto the floor with him, amid the couple twirling in graceful circles like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, and dance.
Don't get me wrong. I like to dance. I would even say that I'm a decent dancer. Growing up, I took a lot of dance lessons, mostly ballroom stuff, but it's all been filed away in my memory now. I do not like looking silly, and as I didn't know what I was doing, I pretty soon found myself being forcibly bereft of my wallet and coat and carried onto the dance floor. I probably fought a little, but I'm five foot two, and no match for two guys.
John said, "Take some risks. It's an adventure."
So I shut up. And just a side note--to John, who will never read this blog post--you are a fantastic leader. You relaxed me, you helped me follow and made me laugh. It was lovely.
I was enjoying it in spite of myself, if I ignored the couples around us who were, quite literally, flying through the air. When the dance was over, John kissed my hand (!!) and left me. A moment later he was spinning fearlessly with another partner.
Someone else asked me to dance. It was different, dancing with a total stranger (OK, not a stranger. We actually met last semester during a Pittsburgh ministry, but he didn't remember, so I didn't remind him). There was a lot more talking than twirling. When the song was over, he said, "May I have another dance? I'm really enjoying talking to you."
Whoa.
And even though I fumbled, he kept me laughing. When I left at 11:30, I still couldn't banish my smile. The exercise had done me good, and I felt flushed walking out into the chilly evening.
I know people say chivalry is dead. A lot of them even say good riddance. I get it. I do. At the same time, I think we've lost so much by doing away with that courtesy, that measure of respect for one another. There I was, standing uncomfortably on the sidelines with my clumsy shoes and my shambled heart, and the attention of these two boys--one a friend, the other a (semi-)stranger--made me feel feminine and pretty. And I even had fun.
This is why we treasure the princes of fairy tales and fall in love with story heroes. To those boys who dare to be chivalrous, thank you. You don't know how much we girls ache for real men.
Saturday, February 23, 2013
The Creature that Wanders the Halls
You know the look that people in the student union coffee shop give you?
That someone-left a paper-late look, that I-know-this-is-your-third-cup-of-coffee-today look?
I got that this week. I shrank beneath it, murmured a thanks so soft and ashamed it could have been mistaken for a cough, and escaped.
If I learned a difficult lesson from that night, it was to never venture back into the land of caffeine. Then my brain catches up, and I think, Maybe you should rethink that double major.
Goodbye for now, coffee cup. I know we will meet again.
Up until now, I've never been able to track down anything that really gives me a jolt. It's possible I reached some level of homeostasis from too many years of black tea. Then, last weekend, my friend Joe asked me to run to the cafe and get him a coffee.
Perchance I should have learned my lesson there. I should have told him to get his own dang cup of coffee.
(Just kidding. If I remember correctly, I offered to treat.)
Then he uttered the fateful words, "Tell them to add a shot of espresso."
The words stayed in my mind, and Wednesday night, when I walked over to get something before starting my paper, I thought I'd try it.
At 2:30 AM, when I decided to take a break from writing my conclusion, I wandered the halls of the dorm, pondering the sleeping breaths of my 300 fellow residents. Across the piazza, the windows of Louis Hall were dark. That was eerie.
But in the wee hours, nothing. No sound. No rustle. No boys bursting into one another's rooms to yell and wrestle. No shouts from the lobby. No girls calling to one another for hairpins, homework help, clothes, advice. None of the myriad of other sounds that constantly echo down the halls at college.
I was a ghost, just the slip of a spirit, made corporeal by coffee.
Because I could, I did a couple of pirouettes down the eerie halls. Maybe, I thought, I should do some jumping jacks. I had a teacher in high school who hauled us up for jumping jacks whenever he sensed the class was mentally less than present. Just the thought of moving that much after only dregs of sleep and too much coffee made my stomach roil.
I wandered on, caught, like Hamlet's father, in my caffeine purgatory.
At long last, I snatched four and a half desperate hours of sleep and thought, never again.
But I can hear it, that sniggering voice, the jolt of caffeine in my veins.
"Don't wait up," it says. "I'll be back soon."
That someone-left a paper-late look, that I-know-this-is-your-third-cup-of-coffee-today look?
I got that this week. I shrank beneath it, murmured a thanks so soft and ashamed it could have been mistaken for a cough, and escaped.
If I learned a difficult lesson from that night, it was to never venture back into the land of caffeine. Then my brain catches up, and I think, Maybe you should rethink that double major.
Goodbye for now, coffee cup. I know we will meet again.
Up until now, I've never been able to track down anything that really gives me a jolt. It's possible I reached some level of homeostasis from too many years of black tea. Then, last weekend, my friend Joe asked me to run to the cafe and get him a coffee.
Perchance I should have learned my lesson there. I should have told him to get his own dang cup of coffee.
(Just kidding. If I remember correctly, I offered to treat.)
Then he uttered the fateful words, "Tell them to add a shot of espresso."
The words stayed in my mind, and Wednesday night, when I walked over to get something before starting my paper, I thought I'd try it.
At 2:30 AM, when I decided to take a break from writing my conclusion, I wandered the halls of the dorm, pondering the sleeping breaths of my 300 fellow residents. Across the piazza, the windows of Louis Hall were dark. That was eerie.
But in the wee hours, nothing. No sound. No rustle. No boys bursting into one another's rooms to yell and wrestle. No shouts from the lobby. No girls calling to one another for hairpins, homework help, clothes, advice. None of the myriad of other sounds that constantly echo down the halls at college.
I was a ghost, just the slip of a spirit, made corporeal by coffee.
Because I could, I did a couple of pirouettes down the eerie halls. Maybe, I thought, I should do some jumping jacks. I had a teacher in high school who hauled us up for jumping jacks whenever he sensed the class was mentally less than present. Just the thought of moving that much after only dregs of sleep and too much coffee made my stomach roil.
I wandered on, caught, like Hamlet's father, in my caffeine purgatory.
At long last, I snatched four and a half desperate hours of sleep and thought, never again.
But I can hear it, that sniggering voice, the jolt of caffeine in my veins.
"Don't wait up," it says. "I'll be back soon."
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
December Musings
Allow me a moment.
IT'S THE END OF THE SEMESTER.
Unbelievable. I've made it to winter break, and my days were full to the last minute. After trekking up the icy hill to my Friday morning-final (ahhh, Steubie, how I love you), I spent the next few hours gathering luggage, cleaning, and bidding farewell. It's hard to believe how the semester seems simultaneously to have flown.....
....and yet gone soooo slooooowly.
I hopped on a plane in Pittsburgh and by 7:00 was happy in the 60-degree weather of North Carolina.
Luxuriously, I took the weekend to adjust, recover from finals (that is, come down from my caffeine high), and (ahhhh!) sleep in. Then Monday arrived, and I grew restless.....
.....I'm missing stuff like this:
*Sigh* So I'm out. With lots and lotsa free time. Keeping my fingers crossed that it turns into lots of writing time.
Merry Christmas to all you lovely people, Happy Holidays, and have a lovely vacation. I think we all deserve it, don't you? :)
IT'S THE END OF THE SEMESTER.
Unbelievable. I've made it to winter break, and my days were full to the last minute. After trekking up the icy hill to my Friday morning-final (ahhh, Steubie, how I love you), I spent the next few hours gathering luggage, cleaning, and bidding farewell. It's hard to believe how the semester seems simultaneously to have flown.....
....and yet gone soooo slooooowly.
I hopped on a plane in Pittsburgh and by 7:00 was happy in the 60-degree weather of North Carolina.
Luxuriously, I took the weekend to adjust, recover from finals (that is, come down from my caffeine high), and (ahhhh!) sleep in. Then Monday arrived, and I grew restless.....
I puttered around. Made breakfast and wrestled our all-too-frisky kitten. Leafed through my class notes. Skyped with a friend. Having nothing to do felt weirder than weird.
And at last, I found myself turning my computer on, clicking through my documents. Opening one. And writing until I had five rough chapters.
Writing for the first time in months was awesome. Words flowed, for a while. Then my old routine set in: cudgeling my brains, frowning at the computer. But even the frustration felt good.
The piece I worked on is not one of my figment pieces; it's a novella I've had stashed away for several months. I don't know that it will be going on figment at any point. Right now, it's very personal, a foray into a new genre and a completely new style of writing that I'm not quite ready to share. However, I've also been working on my second draft of Default Sweater and wrestling a bit with Lilla and the Tower. I hit a tough spot with Lilla over the semester, where words weren't coming and the storyline felt tangled. My goal with the story was to go for a simpler writing style and short chapters, fairy tale-like, but I've found that even simple writing isn't always simple to write. Schoolwork caught up, and I took a break that stretched from days to months.
My goal for winter break (up 'til January 13) is to write at least ten chapters of Lilla. I will most likely be working on multiple things on the side--hopefully TDS will be back up soon, with some edits. I also have big plans for the sequel, as I keep promising! As of now, I have a storyline mapped out and am scribbling down ideas whenever they pop into my head. It's taking on a very fun tone and I'm dying to start. In planning, I'm amused at how much seems to be coming from the real world--real experiences, conversations, and people. With TDS, there were a few moments I included from my own life, like Erin's story of Gangster Day, or Willow House, which was inspired by my memories of Lake Messalonskee. Generally, though, I try to steer clear of "writing myself" into a story. I don't want to be writing an autobiography, and in this case, I really can't, since I'm much younger than Erin and don't quite obsess over first kisses (though she and I are fans of the same movies). Aside from a few things, Erin came purely from my imagination.
The sequel, though, seems to demand more. Because the protagonist is someone who, unlike Erin, has had a lot of experience with boys, stories, both from my own life and from others' lives, creep in. Midnight conversations with friends lead to musings about plot and character. New acquaintances contribute observations. The chivalry and kindness of boys on campus (as well as their boyish craziness) inspires me as I dive into writing another romance.
It's very fun. :)
Aside from this all, I'm missing college immensely. I know, I'm a freak. As pleasant it is not to have class.....and how fantastic it is not to be eating cafeteria food....
.....I'm missing stuff like this:
And this....
*Sigh* So I'm out. With lots and lotsa free time. Keeping my fingers crossed that it turns into lots of writing time.
Merry Christmas to all you lovely people, Happy Holidays, and have a lovely vacation. I think we all deserve it, don't you? :)
Thursday, November 8, 2012
November
I am a warm-weather child.
Living in Ohio has been such a new experience for me, especially as frost sets in. The leaves have long since fallen from the trees, and the world has grown winter-quiet.
Twice a week, I have a holy hour early in the morning.
I'm pretty sure that approximately 90% of the world has no idea what a holy hour is, so I'll explain. I go to one of the Cathlockiest of Catholic universities in the country, and we have Perpetual Adoration. This means that there is a chapel in which the Eucharist is kept, 24/7, which means that someone is there praying before it at every moment of the day. Even in the middle of the night.
Which means that twice a week, I drag myself out of bed in the wee hours, pull a jacket on, and set out across campus.
At the beginning of the school year, when the weather was September-fresh and I could slip out with only a sweater, it wasn't bad. Then it got colder, and I cringed and quaked and whined like a pouty little kid at having to leave my room.
Yet every now and then, while the bitter wind swirls around me and my bones jump with shivers, I'm struck by the raw beauty of winter.
Winter has no pretense. It is bare and immediate. It calls my heart with its silence.
It's November now, and my holy hours will get more difficult. The world is turning to ice, and in those moments just before I see the lamps outside the chapel entrance, when I experience only wind and darkness, I'm afraid.
And when I enter the chapel and am so welcomed, so loved, by the soft glow of candles and the beauty of the monstrance, I know that I can trek across an icy campus in the dark, that I can sacrifice hours of sleep, that I can kneel on a stone floor, dizzy with wishing for my far-away bed, because this is worth everything.
Living in Ohio has been such a new experience for me, especially as frost sets in. The leaves have long since fallen from the trees, and the world has grown winter-quiet.
Twice a week, I have a holy hour early in the morning.
I'm pretty sure that approximately 90% of the world has no idea what a holy hour is, so I'll explain. I go to one of the Cathlockiest of Catholic universities in the country, and we have Perpetual Adoration. This means that there is a chapel in which the Eucharist is kept, 24/7, which means that someone is there praying before it at every moment of the day. Even in the middle of the night.
Which means that twice a week, I drag myself out of bed in the wee hours, pull a jacket on, and set out across campus.
At the beginning of the school year, when the weather was September-fresh and I could slip out with only a sweater, it wasn't bad. Then it got colder, and I cringed and quaked and whined like a pouty little kid at having to leave my room.
Yet every now and then, while the bitter wind swirls around me and my bones jump with shivers, I'm struck by the raw beauty of winter.
Winter has no pretense. It is bare and immediate. It calls my heart with its silence.
It's November now, and my holy hours will get more difficult. The world is turning to ice, and in those moments just before I see the lamps outside the chapel entrance, when I experience only wind and darkness, I'm afraid.
And when I enter the chapel and am so welcomed, so loved, by the soft glow of candles and the beauty of the monstrance, I know that I can trek across an icy campus in the dark, that I can sacrifice hours of sleep, that I can kneel on a stone floor, dizzy with wishing for my far-away bed, because this is worth everything.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Reasons Why I am an Enfant Terrible (plus some news)
So, I need to own up to the fact that I've been a total brat. My bratness is not completely my fault, but to be honest, well, a few things have gotten away from me.
First off, deadlines and goals I set for myself. It's been a busy year, with lots of new things that demand my focus. I'm beyond being kept on my toes, I'm en pointe.
*snickers at her own joke*
But I can't make excuses, since I've been behind all year.
First of, my adventures in audioland. In March and April I did several posts talking about my research into audio book making, promising that I would be posting my resulting audio chapters within a few weeks. Well, time got away from me, and the next thing I knew, it was September. Oops.
So will I be posting Hearthsinger chapters? I honestly don't know. I hope that eventually I'll be able to share them, because I truly enjoyed researching and creating them. The cast was so much fun to work with and it was amazing to hear my own words spoken by other people. I'm sure I'll be posting more on the subject, since I'll (hopefully!) be making more forays into audioland.
Secondly, my disastrous ambition of finishing Lilla & the Tower by the end of the summer. It's still a dream I wish I could have accomplished, if I could turn back the weeks. Unfortunately, even vacation was a whirlwind this year. Lilla will definitely be continuing, but at this point, as far as writing goes, I have no plan. Currently, I'm working a few minutes a day on the second draft of TDS, tweaking some of its kinks and cutting a whole lot of words. It's a happy and painful process. I'm hoping that some Lilla time will sneak in there somewhere.
(On a happy note, I have a new blog! You may notice it's yellow. Like corn, maybe, or sunshine, or maple leaves in the fall, or perhaps some soft Sweater wool....)
And lastly, I had vague intentions of getting the TDS sequel up on my figment page right around now. Sadly, that won't be happening for a while, either, but the synopsis will be going up on my blog this week! As soon as it does, I'll post a little more about it and why I chose my new main character.
*exhales*
Things are hectic.
But good hectic.
Thank you for reading my hectic blog.
First off, deadlines and goals I set for myself. It's been a busy year, with lots of new things that demand my focus. I'm beyond being kept on my toes, I'm en pointe.
*snickers at her own joke*
But I can't make excuses, since I've been behind all year.
First of, my adventures in audioland. In March and April I did several posts talking about my research into audio book making, promising that I would be posting my resulting audio chapters within a few weeks. Well, time got away from me, and the next thing I knew, it was September. Oops.
So will I be posting Hearthsinger chapters? I honestly don't know. I hope that eventually I'll be able to share them, because I truly enjoyed researching and creating them. The cast was so much fun to work with and it was amazing to hear my own words spoken by other people. I'm sure I'll be posting more on the subject, since I'll (hopefully!) be making more forays into audioland.
Secondly, my disastrous ambition of finishing Lilla & the Tower by the end of the summer. It's still a dream I wish I could have accomplished, if I could turn back the weeks. Unfortunately, even vacation was a whirlwind this year. Lilla will definitely be continuing, but at this point, as far as writing goes, I have no plan. Currently, I'm working a few minutes a day on the second draft of TDS, tweaking some of its kinks and cutting a whole lot of words. It's a happy and painful process. I'm hoping that some Lilla time will sneak in there somewhere.
(On a happy note, I have a new blog! You may notice it's yellow. Like corn, maybe, or sunshine, or maple leaves in the fall, or perhaps some soft Sweater wool....)
And lastly, I had vague intentions of getting the TDS sequel up on my figment page right around now. Sadly, that won't be happening for a while, either, but the synopsis will be going up on my blog this week! As soon as it does, I'll post a little more about it and why I chose my new main character.
*exhales*
Things are hectic.
But good hectic.
Thank you for reading my hectic blog.
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