I'm supposed to be doing my homework. I have a paper due tomorrow. I long paper, on a difficult topic. I have research to do for another assignment. I must escape all distraction. I turned off my Broadway play list because it was too likely to make me want to dance and sing along. I avoided my acquaintances, especially the ones who look like they might become friends. I hid in the most sparsely populated floor of the library; the third floor, far from the computers, far from the librarians and the printers and the DVDs. I sat down down the aisle from a clock so I won't be late for my next class. I worked very hard for about an hour. Then I looked over my shoulder. How did I end up next to this particular aisle?
Drat! Three shelves full of book bindings all bearing the name "C. S. Lewis."
Did I tell you that I had to buy no less than sixteen books for school this semester? Many of them are novels, which is kind of nice. The bottom line is that I have NO time for pleasure reading.
It's no good. All those lovely words full of truth and stories and humor and Christian common sense. They are all deceptively thin books. A collection of essays on stories. That can't be too demanding, right?
So I dive right in. The intro by someone, oh enviable person, who knew Lewis personally has me totally hooked by his short biographical summary. I've read Lewis' story so many times, you would think I could skip this part. I'm very detached until we get to the part where Tolkien shows up.
I don't know who I love more; Tolkien for being God's messenger to Lewis, or Lewis for demanding a story of Tolkien. It's probably a good thing that I don't know where they keep his books. (As I type this, I'm listening to the Return of the King Soundtrack. The Dark Tower just fell and the Eagles are carrying Frodo and Sam back to safety. Rene Flemming is singing. *Sigh*)
I sure hope I can pull myself out long enough to finish my paper. It's time for lunch.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Solitary Hobbits
As most of you know, my family usually celebrates Bilbo and Fordo's birthday on the weekend closest to September 22nd. There is a magnificent feast, many guests, much dancing, reading of Tolkien's books, movie watching, lively conversation, but mostly just eating.
So here I was all by my self on the weekend before Sep. 22nd without my hobbity family who usually does all of the cooking. I managed to find something to make my evening festive. I had to raid the library for Tolkien books, since mine would not have survived the journey.
I watched the theatrical version of Fellowship of the Rings all the way through (except for interruptions from my family who wanted to chat with me over the Internet) for the first time since the year it came out. Still a really good movie, even though they slaughtered some things. Some of the Moria scenes, the balrog in particular, and the Arogonath are wonderfully done. Watching by myself allowed me to be very involved and present to the movie (except for when my family kept calling me), which was nice.
Tuesdays are my hardest days this semester. I have a morning class and only brief breaks till I get done at 9:30. I was despairing of finding time to celebrate properly on the actual day of Bilbo's birthday. Luckily I found a friend who understood, more or less, and another girl who had never read them but wanted to know what we were so excited about. We will corrupt her yet. *evil laugh* My family sent me a box with cookies and my elven cloak in it that arrived that day. So I got to wear my cloak and share some hobbity cookies. I read Bilbo's speech and a few other little scenes. We were in the main cafeteria, so it was not as nice as a private party would have been, but it was sufficient and I didn't feel lonely.
God looks out for me, even in the silly little things.
So here I was all by my self on the weekend before Sep. 22nd without my hobbity family who usually does all of the cooking. I managed to find something to make my evening festive. I had to raid the library for Tolkien books, since mine would not have survived the journey.
I watched the theatrical version of Fellowship of the Rings all the way through (except for interruptions from my family who wanted to chat with me over the Internet) for the first time since the year it came out. Still a really good movie, even though they slaughtered some things. Some of the Moria scenes, the balrog in particular, and the Arogonath are wonderfully done. Watching by myself allowed me to be very involved and present to the movie (except for when my family kept calling me), which was nice.Tuesdays are my hardest days this semester. I have a morning class and only brief breaks till I get done at 9:30. I was despairing of finding time to celebrate properly on the actual day of Bilbo's birthday. Luckily I found a friend who understood, more or less, and another girl who had never read them but wanted to know what we were so excited about. We will corrupt her yet. *evil laugh* My family sent me a box with cookies and my elven cloak in it that arrived that day. So I got to wear my cloak and share some hobbity cookies. I read Bilbo's speech and a few other little scenes. We were in the main cafeteria, so it was not as nice as a private party would have been, but it was sufficient and I didn't feel lonely.
God looks out for me, even in the silly little things.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Sun spots
I learned all about sun spots in astronomy class. But I still think of cats curled up on windowsills when I hear the phrase.
My window faces south. After looking at the Google map of East Grand Rapids for three months, I have a very good sense of direction in this neighborhood. I look out at a line of trees that block the view of the convent and the garden. Oh well... What's important is that the sun looks in at me. All day long in fact.
My bed is on the west side of the room. In the morning, at about 6:40 the sun starts making my curtains glow a bit. I turn over and go back to sleep. At about 7:40 he has managed to send real solid rays into my nightstand. I usually close the curtains - if they aren't already - to try and keep him out at this point. But I'm glad to see him at 8 when I actually have to get up. It's really a waste of perfectly good weekend hours to sleep any later than 8. The morning might be cold, but my windowsill is a warm little sun spot. My little bottle that I made in ceramics this spring sits there in the absents of a cat, looking all warm and cozy, if lacking a tail and whiskers. The marble apple that used to sit on Dada's desk never gets warm, but it shines and makes me think of Dada and home. Always a comforting feeling.
By the end of the day, the sun spot has spilled over my room and made the it kind of stuffy. I don't mind so much. Our hallway is cold. I don't know why, but it's never warm. Even when the setting sun comes stretching into the window at the west end. The rays make the ugly yellow carpet look almost attractive, but it never warms up. Maybe this is why no one is ever in the hall. It's kind of funny; the hall looks warm. It is lit it cozy yellow light and has a very (ugly) yellow carpet. But it never feels warm in any way. My dorm is just the opposite. It's bare and gray mostly, with some off white and brown. Very cold. But it's always warm, and it almost feels like home. I've managed to shake off the feeling of being in a place that doesn't belong to me.
I think I want a small plant. Something that likes sun and is easy to care for... or hard to kill. The sill looks very austere and bare. It would be nice to have something alive sitting between hard stone and hard baked clay. Something ought to be allowed to soak up that beautiful sunlight while not here to enjoy it. And I really need a rug.
My window faces south. After looking at the Google map of East Grand Rapids for three months, I have a very good sense of direction in this neighborhood. I look out at a line of trees that block the view of the convent and the garden. Oh well... What's important is that the sun looks in at me. All day long in fact.
My bed is on the west side of the room. In the morning, at about 6:40 the sun starts making my curtains glow a bit. I turn over and go back to sleep. At about 7:40 he has managed to send real solid rays into my nightstand. I usually close the curtains - if they aren't already - to try and keep him out at this point. But I'm glad to see him at 8 when I actually have to get up. It's really a waste of perfectly good weekend hours to sleep any later than 8. The morning might be cold, but my windowsill is a warm little sun spot. My little bottle that I made in ceramics this spring sits there in the absents of a cat, looking all warm and cozy, if lacking a tail and whiskers. The marble apple that used to sit on Dada's desk never gets warm, but it shines and makes me think of Dada and home. Always a comforting feeling.
By the end of the day, the sun spot has spilled over my room and made the it kind of stuffy. I don't mind so much. Our hallway is cold. I don't know why, but it's never warm. Even when the setting sun comes stretching into the window at the west end. The rays make the ugly yellow carpet look almost attractive, but it never warms up. Maybe this is why no one is ever in the hall. It's kind of funny; the hall looks warm. It is lit it cozy yellow light and has a very (ugly) yellow carpet. But it never feels warm in any way. My dorm is just the opposite. It's bare and gray mostly, with some off white and brown. Very cold. But it's always warm, and it almost feels like home. I've managed to shake off the feeling of being in a place that doesn't belong to me.
I think I want a small plant. Something that likes sun and is easy to care for... or hard to kill. The sill looks very austere and bare. It would be nice to have something alive sitting between hard stone and hard baked clay. Something ought to be allowed to soak up that beautiful sunlight while not here to enjoy it. And I really need a rug.
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