You don't look different, but you have changed
So yeah, Grand Rapids.
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What's sad is that this about sums up what I feel like I can say about the weekend. I basically could have left on Saturday without missing anything. It's not that it was bad--just disappointing, I guess. I saw less than half the people I wanted to see--some people went out of town, and I realized I had no way of contacting many of the others (which is most of you GR peoples on here, sorry). Neither of my profs were around, though at least I heard from Eicke before I went up. Precisely, at 11:06 PM on Thursday night.
*sigh* I dunno. I'm not sure how often I'll go out there anymore. There's not really much reason left. Don't get me wrong--I love everyone out there. But there's a certain point where taking this sort of trip starts feeling like a high school reunion--you might enjoy seeing people again, but you're ready for the night to be over so you can resume normalcy.
Then again, my attitude towards life has always tended towards the transient. I almost never get homesick, for example--my home is my pillow, wherever that may reside. Former homes virtually have no meaning anymore, especially when both location and person have changed independently.
You can notice this trend in books too--at least the decent ones. Take Lord of the Rings. Think of the awkward return to the Shire at the end of the movie version of Return of the King--the four hobbits sit there and stare at each other until the practical Sam, who never really mentally left the Shire in the first place, jumps up to propose to Rosie Cotton. Eventually we may surmise that Merry and Pippin also readapt to their environment--but Frodo, of course, still lives in the journey. He lost his purpose upon the destruction of the Ring, and it's easy to understand why he'd want to take the last boat out of Middle Earth--it's almost a wonder that the rest of 'em don't fight to go too.
It's like that in the book too--to a certain extent. But since evil has spread even as far as the Shire in it, it's easier to see how Sam, Merry, and Pippin can successfully (and quickly) reforge their identities and rejoin Shire society.
Or here's an exercise. Pretend you're Odysseus and you successfully make it home from Troy--but there are no suitors. You've got a wife whose faithfulness was without trial; a son--a twenty-year-old stranger, really--whose loyalty was untested. Certainly, the physical nostos--the physical homecoming--wouldn't have been so difficult. But the mutual sense of striving would have been gone. "Oh... you're back? That's nice, dear. Could you bring me something from the fridge?" And Odysseus would kick back and light a pipe and secretly wonder why he left Calypso in the first place. It's not that Penelope and Telemachus aren't glad to see you. But after the welcoming committee, it's back to business as usual.
In my own tiny way, that's sorta how I felt this weekend.
(How microcosmic, though! It reminds me of the old Newsboys song. Pardon me while I go off into Christian Tangentland, but how's it going to be when Jesus returns? "Oh, hey, J-Dawg, whazzup? Hay guyz, look, it's Buddy Christ!" Do we strive anymore? Are we anxiously awaiting His return? I know I'm not doing much of a job of it.)
The funny thing about all of this is that I was finally inspired--today--to finish actually filling out the application for grad school. Something about finally being ready to move on, maybe. I still have to write a statement of purpose and turn in a portfolio--I'll probably do that on Thursday, but still--it's funny what can motivate you to quit procrastinating, really.
...
...
What's sad is that this about sums up what I feel like I can say about the weekend. I basically could have left on Saturday without missing anything. It's not that it was bad--just disappointing, I guess. I saw less than half the people I wanted to see--some people went out of town, and I realized I had no way of contacting many of the others (which is most of you GR peoples on here, sorry). Neither of my profs were around, though at least I heard from Eicke before I went up. Precisely, at 11:06 PM on Thursday night.
*sigh* I dunno. I'm not sure how often I'll go out there anymore. There's not really much reason left. Don't get me wrong--I love everyone out there. But there's a certain point where taking this sort of trip starts feeling like a high school reunion--you might enjoy seeing people again, but you're ready for the night to be over so you can resume normalcy.
Then again, my attitude towards life has always tended towards the transient. I almost never get homesick, for example--my home is my pillow, wherever that may reside. Former homes virtually have no meaning anymore, especially when both location and person have changed independently.
You can notice this trend in books too--at least the decent ones. Take Lord of the Rings. Think of the awkward return to the Shire at the end of the movie version of Return of the King--the four hobbits sit there and stare at each other until the practical Sam, who never really mentally left the Shire in the first place, jumps up to propose to Rosie Cotton. Eventually we may surmise that Merry and Pippin also readapt to their environment--but Frodo, of course, still lives in the journey. He lost his purpose upon the destruction of the Ring, and it's easy to understand why he'd want to take the last boat out of Middle Earth--it's almost a wonder that the rest of 'em don't fight to go too.
It's like that in the book too--to a certain extent. But since evil has spread even as far as the Shire in it, it's easier to see how Sam, Merry, and Pippin can successfully (and quickly) reforge their identities and rejoin Shire society.
Or here's an exercise. Pretend you're Odysseus and you successfully make it home from Troy--but there are no suitors. You've got a wife whose faithfulness was without trial; a son--a twenty-year-old stranger, really--whose loyalty was untested. Certainly, the physical nostos--the physical homecoming--wouldn't have been so difficult. But the mutual sense of striving would have been gone. "Oh... you're back? That's nice, dear. Could you bring me something from the fridge?" And Odysseus would kick back and light a pipe and secretly wonder why he left Calypso in the first place. It's not that Penelope and Telemachus aren't glad to see you. But after the welcoming committee, it's back to business as usual.
In my own tiny way, that's sorta how I felt this weekend.
(How microcosmic, though! It reminds me of the old Newsboys song. Pardon me while I go off into Christian Tangentland, but how's it going to be when Jesus returns? "Oh, hey, J-Dawg, whazzup? Hay guyz, look, it's Buddy Christ!" Do we strive anymore? Are we anxiously awaiting His return? I know I'm not doing much of a job of it.)
The funny thing about all of this is that I was finally inspired--today--to finish actually filling out the application for grad school. Something about finally being ready to move on, maybe. I still have to write a statement of purpose and turn in a portfolio--I'll probably do that on Thursday, but still--it's funny what can motivate you to quit procrastinating, really.