Library of Congress Tour

         

             Day seven of our D.C. trip today. My mom and I spent the first few days in the capitol, rode the train up to Wilton, Connecticut to visit friends and head into N.Y.C. tomorrow.
            Wandering around the capitol on Memorial Day weekend, my mother and I walked into the Library of Congress as it was beginning to close. We peeked through closed doors, and I snapped pictures of the engraved quotes and the gilded dome. Wandering around down below the main hall, we got separated. As a searched around, a security officer with a rust colored beard walked after me calling, "Ma'am, where are you going?"
             "To grab my mom. She's somewhere down there."
             "I don't want you to get lost down here." So he came with me.
             But at the end of the long corridor revealed yet another maze of halls and no mother. I tried calling her cellphone while the guard strode back whispering into his radio. Seeing him become smaller and smaller back down the hall, I made a break for it and jogged down the next hall to look. Nothing. I felt hot and fighting mad as I turned around to walk back.
            There she came with the bearded guard at her side. I couldn't stay angry for too long because the officer escorted us down through a gold elevator and asked if we would like to see the library floor, usually off limits to tourists.
             "We'll see if any of my keys work," he said twisting into the lock.
              Click.
              We stepped onto the bright cream carpet and strained our necks towards the ceiling. The guard prattled on about being on duty during the shooting of the second National Treasure film with "Nick Cage overacting as usual."

              Libraries are amazing places. And I could write several paragraphs about why this is true, but it would be easier to convince you by simply walking you into the doors and leading you to the parallel shelves of musty old paper, glue and ink.
              Darcy gives Elizabeth an indirect complement when he exasperates Caroline Bingley by adding to her long list of qualifications for the accomplished woman saying, "And to all this she must yet add something more substantial: in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading." The following are a few quotes a took pictures of at the Library of Congress. I feel that Austen would concur.

 "The true university of these days is a collection of books."

"Reading maketh a full man [or woman]. Conference a ready man [or woman]. And writing an exact man [or woman]."

 "The chief glory of every people arises from its authors."

Waiting for the Sequel

           The most popular conversation to have with a recent graduate begins something like this, "So the million dollar question is what's next?" I know this now from experience. And I've become quite polished at responding, "I have no idea!"

            Answering the question "what next?" has proved less terrifying than I made it out to sound all semester. Though I still don't have a satisfactory response, or even any plan at all, life keeps moving, and I'm still breathing--despite the fact that I have no papers due and no presentations to practice. I feel a little bit like clothes hanging in the closet, fresh and waiting for the next outing.

 

         As far as the Pride and Prejudice project, things seem to be at a similar junction wondering "Now what?" My capstone was completed with along with the end of school. I had so much fun speaking during the presentation, that I want to keep working with it, although in a different format, perhaps less academic.   

  101 pages when it was all said and done. 

        This week's post has become a mixture of metaphors and pictorial media. My life, at the moment, feels a bit like the ending of a novel. Everything with school was tied up in a neat little conclusion and laid to rest. That sounds a bit morbid. Don't worry, no one has died. But it's different than just a new chapter because chapters are full of suspense and leave you on a cliff so that you turn directly to the next. It's more like the ending of a book, or a section, and I'm waiting for the sequel to come out and hoping it doesn't disappoint. The first book was so good that part of me wonders if the author can top it. I have a feeling He can.

 

People

       "We are very proud and we are very prejudiced," read the graduation card. Another gift came in the form of A Jane Austen Devotional--yes this does exist. 

 

        Saturday, I graduated from college. And the most wonderful part was the host of family and friends there to share in the excitement and joy. Writing one million thank you notes tonight, I realized how incredible it is that people need people.
        Even the intrepid and independent Miss Bennet requires relationship. Elizabeth is dependent on her close friendships with Jane and Charlotte. She thrives on conversation with her father, Darcy, Wickham, etc. She receives the help and support of Aunt and Uncle Gardiner.
        All this to note that relationships pull us through the trial and difficulty and rejoice with us in the happy endings and new beginnings.

Rain

        

           She sat inside and watched the rain rat-a-tat-tat against the thin window pain. The parched dust smeared in muddy tears as the water splattered onto the ground. It seemed more like a Christmas finals week than five days before summer break. But the rain felt so good.
          Woosh! Sheets of water poured out of the grey sky which was one big cloud. it drew her out the door and into the midst as blessings showered, drenching through her long hair and down her arms. The fresh water trickled off her finger tips. She lifted her head up and opened her mouth smiling.
          I feel like that. Just sitting, soaking in incredible blessings until your skin has absorbed so much it can't any more and the gifts go spilling right off of you. The power of massive amounts of water is disguised by the tiny droplets which package it. But in the midst of the beautiful shower, the boom of thunder and the stormy air are still frightening.
          Though I haven't done any dancing in the rain this week (although it is a regular tradition on campus, enacted my freshman year), it has poured. Hot Santa Ana winds scorched the earth as the sun beat merrily last week. But the clouds arrived over the weekend with a different plan in mind. And the rain is how my life feels currently, on multiple levels.
          The rain is sad, tears washing the earth. It makes me want to curl in a ball under a blanket to hibernate. In the same way, life is bittersweet. A beautiful ending into an expanse of unknown which makes me want to hide under the covers. If it can't see me, maybe it will go away. Doubtful.
          Rain storms prove frightening. The distant rolling boom resounds in the air. The dark skies cover slick roads. The pouring water drenches my clothes, and there are no windshield wipers to clear my wet eyes.
          But rain is wondrous. The earth cracks and bleeds for it. Like microscopic presents pouring from the air, it acts as Santa Claus for the plants. Like rain, God has been pouring out other blessings on top of me. I sit with my eyes closed and my palms facing up and soak in the overwhelming tide of goodness.
          The forecast predicts an end to the shower--an end to this short but oh so sweet season. That frightens me too.