home again home again jiggity jig
So it's been a while, lj. Sorry 'bout that -- the holidays, and all. You understand.
For this past week I was visiting my brother and his wife with my other brothers down in South Carolina. The 70 degree weather on my birthday and New Year's made a nice change from the snowy and frigid temps this time typically brings. The drive down on the twenty-eighth took seventeen hours and two cars (eighteen if you count the hour it took to fill Meg's tires with air) and the drive up on the third took around fifteen in one car.
The whole five days we spent in SC feel somewhat dream-like and all mashed into one long experience of video games, football, and beer. I mixed myself a drink on New Year's that prompted an immediate flashback to junior year at Wells when Heather would mix something delightful out of every fruit juice available, and mix in some liquor as well. I think it was the combination of cranberry, orange, and pineapple juices what did it. I'm sure the Vodka didn't hurt, either. And the memory left me considering a conversation I had one time with Kristin. "These are going to be the best years of our lives," I'd said. "I hope not!" she'd replied -- "I've got a lot of life left to live, and I hope it only gets better!"
In some ways we were both right. I've never been as close to anybody as I was those years at Wells, and there are times I miss the ease and tightness of friendship, the freedoms that come from living in the bubble, and the thrill at scheduling classes and looking forward to learning something new. But I don't miss being a student, and I don't miss the feigned independence, and I certainly do not miss the pressures of grad school that followed. I'm not sure I'd say this time of my life is better than college, but I'm not sure I'd say it was worse, either. It's simply different and I'm different. More grown-up, I guess.
To everything there is a season, and though my season now is more isolated and much lonelier, it is the time for it, and I need it to grow, and I'm ready for it.
I've been reading a bit lately, and I'll have to start keeping a new list in the right column for books read in 2011. I ended out the year by reading The Phoenix and the Carpet by E. Nesbit and transitioned into the new year with The Railway Children, also by E. Nesbit. The ending of this second made me cry -- I'm still a sucker for happy endings.
I began the introduction to Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (they're both collected in the edition I'm reading), and it was a little too academic for my tastes. It shocked me back into the reality that there's another way to read books, totally separate from enjoyment, but still enjoyable all the same (to some), and I grew dizzy from the quotations and affirmations that "this" means "that" and Carroll was big on math and logic and nonsense. And, truthfully, the theories and quotes used to support them seemed disjoint enough to me to model this same nonsense. But then again, I told myself, it's been a while since I was a "student" and I'm sure if I worked hard enough, I could buy into it. But for now, I don't especially want to be a smart reader. I just want to read.
Does this make me a horrible person? I wonder.
Anyway, as soon as I came home, I rediscovered all the books I'd gotten for Christmas and hadn't brought with me to South Carolina, and I abandoned Alice for the nonce and picked up Dream instead. From some time last night through 'til some time this morning, I've already devoured the first three volumes of The Sandman series. It's as dark and twisted and gothic as I'd hoped, without feeling outright gothic. Morpheus looks too much like Gaiman to be coincidence -- surely I'm not the only one who's noticed this, right?
And again, it reminds me of Wells and who we were and who I was and how I was and where I am now. This makes it sound like I'm always reminiscing, but I'm not. It's more like an instant infusion of everything Wells was -- a sudden surge of emotion developed over four years brought back for a breath -- and then everything's normal again. A friendly momentary reminder, if you will.
I've made a grocery list this morning of things to buy to stock up the fridge and the pantry. The doc gave me a 1500 calorie pamphlet about a month ago, and I figure now that the holidays and birthdays are over, and since there's a little space of time before classes and the bustle of life return, it's a decent time to set things in motion. I'm notorious for beginning things and then forgetting to carry them through, but perhaps this time will be different (a ponderance oft uttered in vain this time of year, I'm sure).
...It's funny how the small details of living can make you lazy about the important details of life...
Anyway. It's long past time for a shower, and I need to balance my checkbook before I head out for groceries. I should stop by the bank for quarters so I can do laundry, but chances are I'll put that errand off a little longer. I'd also meant to mention that I'm about 80% certain I've a new neighbor upstairs. I'm also about 95% certain this new neighbor both snores quite loudly and has a dog. I heard the rhythmic breathing at 2AM when I awoke, unable to sleep, and so started on the second Sandman volume. I can also hear the clicking toenails of an animal dashing about upstairs, like it's taking itself for a walk in the only space it can. I've heard barking twice.
For this past week I was visiting my brother and his wife with my other brothers down in South Carolina. The 70 degree weather on my birthday and New Year's made a nice change from the snowy and frigid temps this time typically brings. The drive down on the twenty-eighth took seventeen hours and two cars (eighteen if you count the hour it took to fill Meg's tires with air) and the drive up on the third took around fifteen in one car.
The whole five days we spent in SC feel somewhat dream-like and all mashed into one long experience of video games, football, and beer. I mixed myself a drink on New Year's that prompted an immediate flashback to junior year at Wells when Heather would mix something delightful out of every fruit juice available, and mix in some liquor as well. I think it was the combination of cranberry, orange, and pineapple juices what did it. I'm sure the Vodka didn't hurt, either. And the memory left me considering a conversation I had one time with Kristin. "These are going to be the best years of our lives," I'd said. "I hope not!" she'd replied -- "I've got a lot of life left to live, and I hope it only gets better!"
In some ways we were both right. I've never been as close to anybody as I was those years at Wells, and there are times I miss the ease and tightness of friendship, the freedoms that come from living in the bubble, and the thrill at scheduling classes and looking forward to learning something new. But I don't miss being a student, and I don't miss the feigned independence, and I certainly do not miss the pressures of grad school that followed. I'm not sure I'd say this time of my life is better than college, but I'm not sure I'd say it was worse, either. It's simply different and I'm different. More grown-up, I guess.
To everything there is a season, and though my season now is more isolated and much lonelier, it is the time for it, and I need it to grow, and I'm ready for it.
I've been reading a bit lately, and I'll have to start keeping a new list in the right column for books read in 2011. I ended out the year by reading The Phoenix and the Carpet by E. Nesbit and transitioned into the new year with The Railway Children, also by E. Nesbit. The ending of this second made me cry -- I'm still a sucker for happy endings.
I began the introduction to Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass (they're both collected in the edition I'm reading), and it was a little too academic for my tastes. It shocked me back into the reality that there's another way to read books, totally separate from enjoyment, but still enjoyable all the same (to some), and I grew dizzy from the quotations and affirmations that "this" means "that" and Carroll was big on math and logic and nonsense. And, truthfully, the theories and quotes used to support them seemed disjoint enough to me to model this same nonsense. But then again, I told myself, it's been a while since I was a "student" and I'm sure if I worked hard enough, I could buy into it. But for now, I don't especially want to be a smart reader. I just want to read.
Does this make me a horrible person? I wonder.
Anyway, as soon as I came home, I rediscovered all the books I'd gotten for Christmas and hadn't brought with me to South Carolina, and I abandoned Alice for the nonce and picked up Dream instead. From some time last night through 'til some time this morning, I've already devoured the first three volumes of The Sandman series. It's as dark and twisted and gothic as I'd hoped, without feeling outright gothic. Morpheus looks too much like Gaiman to be coincidence -- surely I'm not the only one who's noticed this, right?
And again, it reminds me of Wells and who we were and who I was and how I was and where I am now. This makes it sound like I'm always reminiscing, but I'm not. It's more like an instant infusion of everything Wells was -- a sudden surge of emotion developed over four years brought back for a breath -- and then everything's normal again. A friendly momentary reminder, if you will.
I've made a grocery list this morning of things to buy to stock up the fridge and the pantry. The doc gave me a 1500 calorie pamphlet about a month ago, and I figure now that the holidays and birthdays are over, and since there's a little space of time before classes and the bustle of life return, it's a decent time to set things in motion. I'm notorious for beginning things and then forgetting to carry them through, but perhaps this time will be different (a ponderance oft uttered in vain this time of year, I'm sure).
...It's funny how the small details of living can make you lazy about the important details of life...
Anyway. It's long past time for a shower, and I need to balance my checkbook before I head out for groceries. I should stop by the bank for quarters so I can do laundry, but chances are I'll put that errand off a little longer. I'd also meant to mention that I'm about 80% certain I've a new neighbor upstairs. I'm also about 95% certain this new neighbor both snores quite loudly and has a dog. I heard the rhythmic breathing at 2AM when I awoke, unable to sleep, and so started on the second Sandman volume. I can also hear the clicking toenails of an animal dashing about upstairs, like it's taking itself for a walk in the only space it can. I've heard barking twice.