College Thoughts and Occurrences

THE VIEW FROM MY DORM ROOM

Okay, first of all - I LOVE this view. It looks out over the sidewalk that leads into the dorm. It reminds me of how in "Anne of Green Gables" (movie, I mean. For some reason, I never read the books.) there was a nosy lady who lived by the crossroads and would sit on her porch and watch everyone who went by. She knew when people were leaving and where they left to. I'm not saying I'm nosy or anything, but it's neat to have a view of the entry way to Troxel. The view is lovely, and it's nice to look out the window and see people and not cows (though I kind of miss the cows.)

COLLEGE CLASSES: HALF THE CHALLENGE IS FINDING THEM

Chemistry was good today . . . when I finally got to class. The classroom was at the end of a hallway and a paper with the class number was tacked on the wall, so I figured I was in the right place. It was only after I sat down in the very front row, volunteered to pass out syllabi (but I never looked at them), sat down again and looked at the powerpoint that I realized I was in a Biology class. Yeah. "Pretty stupid" wouldn't cover how I felt. Anyhoo, I got to the right classroom in time to hear Dr. Ahmad's class introduction which included a . . . .

TUTORIAL ON HOW TO PRONOUNCE "AHMAD"
If people had been pronouncing my name incorrectly for over half a century, I'd probably be giving them a tutorial on it, too. It is not "A -mad." It is "Ah-mad." While he was born and educated in India, his name is of Arabic origin. There are two types of "h" sounds, and the "h" sound in "Ahmad" is an "h" sound made with the throat.

THIS CAMPUS IS INSANELY EASY TO GET LOST IN
While trekking about campus, I am never without my handy-dandy yellow campus map. Four years from now, I will be using this map to get to my Finals. I think I should get it laminated.

MISCELLANEOUS
My Bio. lab had better be interesting; it's nearly three hours long. One of the lightbulbs in the bathroom doesn't work. The pigeon nest on the ledge has two baby pigeons in it. My critical thinking course doesn't start 'till Wednesday, so I have the rest of the day offf. I only know of two places to eat on campus. I need to stop blogging and get back to studying.

Thoughts on College as it Looms Closer than Ever Before

This is what I see right before I go to sleep (of course, the lights are out then).

Let me tell you something. I've looked at this wall for years but most particularly at a certain time for the past four years. Since High School started, on one night before school starts, I find myself facing this wall and considering the future. It's my annual moment to assess where I am, what's going to happen, and how I feel about it. Three years ago, I looked at this wall and cried. The sudden reality of college and my brother leaving and my life changing forever had dawned on me; however, I felt that I still had four years, plenty of time, before that would happen. Two years ago, I looked at that wall and felt a little more resigned towards the future. I don't recall crying, but I wasn't entirely at ease. Last year, I looked at that wall and couldn't believe that time had passed so quickly, that in one short year, it would arrive - college. Tonight, for the last time, I will look at that wall and consider the future. This is what I will think: It's finally here. It's no longer four years away; it's four days away.

This is odd, isn't it? Me, the school-lover, dreading college? It's just that I expect college to be hard, and right now I have no way to measure my skills up to its difficulty level. I need it to hit me so that I can hit back and see what we're both made of. Until then, I can only worry about how challenging it will be, and I can acclimate to the endings and the beginnings. I've never thought of myself as someone who didn't like change, but now I think I am. I'm waiting 'till the joy of new beginnings overcomes the sorrow of endings.

Don't worry. In a fortnight, I'll be blogging about how wonderful college is and how great and sunny my existence is turning out to be.
Until then, I'm here. Staring at a wall in the dark.



Yes, I do sleep with at least five stuffed animals on my bed (Eeyore, Mousse the moose, Winston the mouse, Chocolate the lab., and Harold the hippo). . . . . what? . . . . stop giving me that look.

The eyes that blink . . .

"Human beings do not live forever, Reuven. We live less than the time it takes to blink an eye, if we measure our lives against eternity. So it may be asked what value is there to a human life.There is so much pain in the world. What does it mean to have to suffer so much if our lives are nothing more than the blink of an eye?" He paused again, his eyes misty now, then went on. "I learned a long time ago, Reuven, that a blink of an eye in itself is nothing. But the eye that blinks, that is something. A span of life is nothing. But the man who lives that span, he is something. He can fill that tiny span with meaning, so its quality is immeasurable though its quantity may be insignificant. Do you understand what I am saying? A man must fill his life with meaning, meaning is not automatically given to life.It is hard work to fill one's life with meaning. That I do not think you understand yet. A life filled with meaning is worthy of rest. I want to be worthy of rest when I am no longer here. Do you understand what I am saying?"

-my favorite passage from "The Chosen," by Chaim Potok

Coffee and Time: Things Worth Wasting

Have you ever read "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn"? You haven't? That's okay. Most people I know haven't. Anyhoo, it's basically a story about this poor family growing up in 1930s Brooklyn, New York. Even though they're very poor, the mother lets her son and daughter pour their coffee down the drain, even if they haven't finished it all. When her sisters protest this, she replies that it's good to be able to waste something because it allows you the luxury of feeling that you can waste it.

I feel that way in my life sometimes. When I'm saturated with dates and projects and deadlines, when I have no time to spare, I find myself taking 15 min., or even an hour, to paint, to blow bubbles, to walk, to doodle, to straighten my bookshelves, to write a letter, to embroider a hankerchief, or to goof off. I don't have time to waste, but I waste it anyway because I want to feel like I do have the luxury of being able to waste time. It keeps me sane (I think).

Anyhoo - today, I had things to study, read, send, finish, and take care of. So what did I do? I poked, danced around, twirled about, and relished in bubbles. My mind is back to an equilibrium between happy, fanciful nonsense and cruel, unbelievably amazing reality. I think I can accomplish everything tomorrow.

Everyone should keep bubbles with them.