Life as We Know It is About to End

            Falling asleep last night, I realized that I'd forgotten to write. Yikes! I'm not really sure what to tell about other than the terrifyingly fantastic new that it will all be over next week. I printed out my Pride and Prejudice paper over the weekend and just held it. Like a child that had recently struggled out of a womb and into the light of day, the 100 pages rested fresh and beautiful in my arms.
          While my roommate practiced introducing herself in Hungarian (part of a linguistic assignment), I finished up my last essay for the year and sat breathing. Endings and I share such a bizarre relationship. For the most part, school now seems like an out-of-body phenomenon as things march to the great conflagration of the end. In a matter of hours between falling asleep and waking up at home, the whirlwind of events signifying the end promises to halt to a profound nothingness the next morning. This radical and inevitable shift scares me most.
          But life beyond school has proved absolutely fantastic lately. I've been seeing the grace of alternative narratives (a fancy term I learned in Communication 100 to describe making positive assumptions or granting people the benefit of the doubt). Somewhat like Elizabeth, my critical mind jumps to an explanation for other people's behavior which is more often than not a judgement about their characters. I was pondering how to handle one situation when God said, "Hey, that's my job." Too often, I subconsciously act as though I am the savior of the world commissioned to figure out everyone else. Praise God that I am not--people are weird.
        If you read most of my recent posts, you might assume that Armageddon is nigh and the world is about to end. Honestly, it feels a bit like that. But life continues for millions of college graduates every year, and it promises to move forward for this one too.

"It's never not gotten done before."

         I purposefully postponed this week's post one day in anticipation of relating to you the spectacular views of last night's sky during the peak of April's much anticipated Lyrid Meteor shower.
         However, it's now a day later, and I have no such romantic tale to tell you.
         At school, a foggy sky blocked the heavenlies save for the pale filmy light of the moon above the clouds. So we drove up the hill to try to find clear sky. But the fog moved with us, and we resorted to counting headlights instead of shooting stars. The final score was 84.5 cars moving up the grade and 29.5 headed down. (The half was from a car that turned into a house on the middle of the hill. Don't ask me why I like half cars and half puppies and halves in general so much.)
        Despite the slight disappointment, we had fun laughing and nibbling on chocolate.
        In other news, life as I've known it for the last three years is rapidly winding. The promise that the homework has never not gotten done before is proving true for the last time as assignments are turned in and my life has begun to slow down to a lovely little pace of editing and eating, working and sleeping.
       The project which has dominated my existence for the last 3.5 months is essentially finished--Praise the Lord! My senior project class took its final quiz this morning and learned that our presentations will be held in, drum-roll please...the computer lab? Oh well, at least there will be a computer on which to show our power points.
       Well, this is all the news I can come up with for tonight.

23 Classes To Go and the Cult of Romance

     

           As of today, the blog has collected its 1,001st hit. From this we can infer that either my mom and I are getting really good at typing in the address or that a few other folks in the universe have found it too--which is exciting.
           Also occurring today is the four weeks till graduation mark. This afternoon, I counted 23 more classes to attend before the semester ends.
          In other news, a terrible attack struck the Boston Marathon this morning, and the Lyrid meteor shower begins tomorrow.
          On an entirely different note....
          In sociology class a couple of weeks ago, my professor mentioned a study by Elaine Tyler May called Great Expectations: Marriage and Divorce in Post-Victorian America. May attributes the 2,000 percent rise in divorce rates from the late 19th to early 20th centuries to the cult of romance. Prior to the advent of media, grounds for divorce cited abuse or failure to fulfill the duty of a partner. Only after the Victorians did the possibility of divorce over "irreconcilable differences" first surfaced. Prior to these expectations of romance and personal fulfillment in marriage, couples didn't fall out of love.
          My professor pointed out that people still believe in marriage because most remarry faulting the previous partner, not the institution, for their discontent. This reminded me of a TED talk by Jenna McCarthy (not to be confused with actress Jenny McCarthy). She pointed out that when couples see a romantic movie--where the banter is carefully scripted and things are blissfully concluded before the credits roll--, they often leave the theater feeling discontented with their comparatively boring existence which includes diapers, incessant channel flipping and crock-pot dinners that didn't appear on screen. In contrast, when a couple watches a blood and guts action flick, they return home feeling more than satisfied with their quiet, cozy little life in which no one is running from dinosaurs or dodging jagged spears around every corner.
         As much as we think we want it to be, life is not a fairy tale where Mr. Darcy will eventually learn how to say the perfect words and Elizabeth is carried to a wealthy estate where dust doesn't land and servants would clean if it did.
         Fiction is wonderful, but dreams can also be dangerous. Not to be a glass half empty kind of gal, but dealing in reality can also help stifle discontent.
         As the end of my undergrad looms in just a month, I can sense the dissatisfaction that will invariably hit like a tidal wave two days after commencement. When it is finally over, I'll miss school and romanticize the adventures of the past three years.
         In preparation for the aggrandizement, I've notified my friends still laboring under the weight of college courses and internships to call me and complain about the lack of sleep, lack of showers and other stresses. And then I'll be reminded of how grateful I am to have my freedom and my boring but wonderful little life.

33 Days Till Graduation

Beginning work on my capstone presentation. I'm so excited about this!

23.5 Dogs and an Annoying Amount of Alliteration

        This spring seems to have reached the mental breakdown stage of the semester. So it seemed fitting to shirk all homework and drive to Balboa Park yesterday afternoon. The park boasts plant-watching, artifact-watching and people-watching--something for everyone. Its treasure include:

•  multiple museums
•  pavement performers
• awesome architecture 
• gorgeous gardens, 
• lovely lawns 
• people 
• and dogs

 My roommate and I wandered about counting dogs. Before driving home we counted 23.5--we could not decide if a fluffy toy breed qualified as a rat or a dog, hence the fraction.

In front of one of the Shakespearean theaters which are a part of the park's Old Globe Theatre.

          The strolling and the puppies proved a refreshing rest. The satisfaction from walking and wandering reminded me of Elizabeth's preference for traveling on foot. She shocks the Bingley part when traversing the three miles through the mud. She escapes Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine by canvassing the wilderness at Rosings Park. The women is eventually proposed to on a country road ramble. All of which (especially that last bit) leads me to believe in the benefits of pedestrianism.
        
           More than walking, I think the underlying value of rest is tantamount to the pleasure derived from parks, puppies and being a pedestrian. (Excuse me for the excessive alliteration in this post. I ought to go pen a poem.) 

          Beyond Balboa Park, I spent the entire day breaking from book and papers (drat! Couldn't think of a work or essays that starts with a b). I also slept and painted and read--not textbooks!

Painting Cherry Trees--watercolors on a Sunday afternoon.

                 God created us to rest, so it shouldn't be surprising that we require it. But it still amazes me how different and ready to live I feel after intentionally breaking from the business.

                In conclusion, everyone needs a great park designed for walking attached to their Regency estate. And until then, we can make use of the public ones where plenty of puppies are happy to greet you.

Feeling Like a Fool

Elizabeth Bennet springs from the pages of Austen’s novel as a confidant woman of grace and poise as well as wit and will. Perhaps we esteem her so much because she combines both brains and elegance. She may have a few humiliating moments, but she is socially adept.

I, on the other hand, have more to learn in this respect. On the scale of awkwardness, I sometimes identify more with Mary and Lydia—maybe Kitty on a good day. Today presented a prime example.

Working my afternoon shift in the college library, I was approached by a young man trying to print a paper. The toner in the printer beeped warningly at me, so I hopped to the back room for a new ink cartridge.

Tearing off the cardboard and plastic wrappers, I examined the cap which appeared different than usual. Gleaning from my vast knowledge of copy machinery (cough under breath), I then proceeded to pull this strange cap off. Poof! Black inky dust everywhere. On the carpet, on the printer, on my feet, on my dress, on my arms and on my scarf.

“Wow,” came the whispered exclamation of my audience of students waiting to print. I pressed the cap back on the tube and trotted to the backroom coated in clinging ebony dust.

Reflecting on this recent experience in which a copy machine played a messy prank on me, I compiled a rather short list of difficulties inhibiting the practice of graceful behavior in the present age.

1.      Copy machines.

2.      The impossibility of wearing classy clothing because of the danger of said violent copy machines. 

3.      The fact that women nowadays work in establishments co-inhabited by corrupted and dangerous electronics of various shapes and sizes and delinquent tendencies.

And so ends my woeful tale of this Monday.