Feet curled and swinging
It is swiftly becoming the case that my "Law and Literature" professor has exceeded the usual self-imposed constraints of the typical law school professor. Yesterday morning, Monday, I arrived early and we were slated that day to discuss In Cold Blood, which was to be the centerpiece of our unit on the "American Nightmare". From a long ago listed series of interests and music I liked listed in a student profile completed years ago, this professor ascertained that I sometimes enjoy listening to Franz Liszt and has, at the beginning of every class, waited as I pulled back my headphones to see if he might have heard the last snatches of La Campanella.
When it was just the two of us in that classroom, he mentioned he'd just finished a book, something relating to law and literature (of course), and that a previous book had tried to discern the difference between solitude and loneliness. I wondered whether or not he had secretly been watching me all through the taxing weekend that still dogged me, and continues to today. So many of a person's problems stem from his inability to sit in a room with himself. And I asked him, rather plaintively, if he had any solutions. Any ideas on how to cope. Enjoying the present, he suggested. So much energy is wasted worrying about the future, which seemed to be a direct response to what I'd said earlier about this being the very last time I'll likely be in an environment like this, able to write the word "student" on the line asking for profession.
He also noted that he enjoyed reminiscing on joyful moments in the past. That seemed, to him, a good use of one's time, a spiritually and mentally regenerative enterprise. I could do worse than follow his advice.
When it was just the two of us in that classroom, he mentioned he'd just finished a book, something relating to law and literature (of course), and that a previous book had tried to discern the difference between solitude and loneliness. I wondered whether or not he had secretly been watching me all through the taxing weekend that still dogged me, and continues to today. So many of a person's problems stem from his inability to sit in a room with himself. And I asked him, rather plaintively, if he had any solutions. Any ideas on how to cope. Enjoying the present, he suggested. So much energy is wasted worrying about the future, which seemed to be a direct response to what I'd said earlier about this being the very last time I'll likely be in an environment like this, able to write the word "student" on the line asking for profession.
He also noted that he enjoyed reminiscing on joyful moments in the past. That seemed, to him, a good use of one's time, a spiritually and mentally regenerative enterprise. I could do worse than follow his advice.