Too Busy to be Bored
My dear, God has such a sense of humor. For the last few weeks I have been complaining that my life lacks challenges. Well! Let the simple one observe my story and become wise, for I am plunged suddenly (and I mean suddenly, as in "over the last 48 hours") in mediam rerum (into the middle of things). I will explain.
Somewhere about the beginning of last week, four different stories which I have been working on for one to six years, depending on the story, suddenly coalesced into a single story. All at once I have a massive narrative on my hands, which is complete in plot and beautiful in form, but which will require much more labor than I really want to contemplate. This thing has five hundred pages worth of potential, at least. Should I write it? Can I not write it?
Last night, I finally found a name for the fiction and poetry publication that Dr. Hake and I have been discussing for about a month. This afternoon, I sent him my proposal for the publication, to be sent through appropriate faculty channels. It is entirely possible that I shall find myself editor in chief of that publication by Spring Break. Ay-yi-yi....
On top of all regular schoolwork, I have two book reports to give this week (and dare not think of next week, which includes two papers, a set of DQ's, and a Geometry exam).
RA applications are coming up. Term papers are coming up. Major decisions are coming up (do I want a degree in History as well as Literature, or not?). SUMMMER is beginning to become an object of thought. It looks as though I will be employed once more this summer in writing Latin grammars, and need to brush up my lingua Latinae, but that is only the tip of the iceberg. Montana. Yellowstone. Conferences (Ohio? PA? Mass Hope? NC?). Switching back to my CLC caregroup (which, by the way, only entails a complete switchover of relational circles). Practicum. Do I want to choose a writing mentor and work on poetry or a novel next semester? Am I ready to write a novel?
Oh golly, pleasure reading alone! I have a booklist as long as my arm, and most of it is theology/philosophy/history/literature! Which reminds me that I still have to write my miniature treatise on why "poetic" is a misunderstood adjective as applied to literature, and, per last night's conversation with Sarah, I have to hammer out a philosophy of Christian friendships and the transience or intransience thereof...which reminds me that I was working on an analysis of courtship as a pre-matrimonial model...which reminds me that I wanted to write on the artificiality of environment in higher education institutions (aka "college")...which reminds me that I need to finish my worldview construction on the Christian family and its primacy...
Which reminds me that my little brother called me last night, in tears, to say that his beagle has died, and to ask me what is Latin for "in loving memory"? Oh, my beloved Danya, I am so sorry...
You see how life beats a rhythm between the abstract and the concrete, the universal and the particular? In heaven God reigns, and on earth my Danya's beagle has died. In the Capitol sits a Legislature, and at PHC I need to sit down with Daddy to do my taxes. I was wrong to think that life begins after college. Life is much too robust a thing to wait while I prepare for it; it laps around my very desk, and laughs at all my efforts to meet it with skill. Thanks be to God, it forces me to be utterly dependent on grace.
Da mi, Domine, scire et intellegere, sed super eas res, amare. Amavisti me, ergo, doce me amare te.... et amare tuos populos. Et da mi felicitas in Christo, qui est mea vita.
Don't mistake me, my dear.... I am so very glad to be alive in this rich, bewildering profusion of opportunity and choice--opportunity to glorify God, choice to choose his will.
Somewhere about the beginning of last week, four different stories which I have been working on for one to six years, depending on the story, suddenly coalesced into a single story. All at once I have a massive narrative on my hands, which is complete in plot and beautiful in form, but which will require much more labor than I really want to contemplate. This thing has five hundred pages worth of potential, at least. Should I write it? Can I not write it?
Last night, I finally found a name for the fiction and poetry publication that Dr. Hake and I have been discussing for about a month. This afternoon, I sent him my proposal for the publication, to be sent through appropriate faculty channels. It is entirely possible that I shall find myself editor in chief of that publication by Spring Break. Ay-yi-yi....
On top of all regular schoolwork, I have two book reports to give this week (and dare not think of next week, which includes two papers, a set of DQ's, and a Geometry exam).
RA applications are coming up. Term papers are coming up. Major decisions are coming up (do I want a degree in History as well as Literature, or not?). SUMMMER is beginning to become an object of thought. It looks as though I will be employed once more this summer in writing Latin grammars, and need to brush up my lingua Latinae, but that is only the tip of the iceberg. Montana. Yellowstone. Conferences (Ohio? PA? Mass Hope? NC?). Switching back to my CLC caregroup (which, by the way, only entails a complete switchover of relational circles). Practicum. Do I want to choose a writing mentor and work on poetry or a novel next semester? Am I ready to write a novel?
Oh golly, pleasure reading alone! I have a booklist as long as my arm, and most of it is theology/philosophy/history/literature! Which reminds me that I still have to write my miniature treatise on why "poetic" is a misunderstood adjective as applied to literature, and, per last night's conversation with Sarah, I have to hammer out a philosophy of Christian friendships and the transience or intransience thereof...which reminds me that I was working on an analysis of courtship as a pre-matrimonial model...which reminds me that I wanted to write on the artificiality of environment in higher education institutions (aka "college")...which reminds me that I need to finish my worldview construction on the Christian family and its primacy...
Which reminds me that my little brother called me last night, in tears, to say that his beagle has died, and to ask me what is Latin for "in loving memory"? Oh, my beloved Danya, I am so sorry...
You see how life beats a rhythm between the abstract and the concrete, the universal and the particular? In heaven God reigns, and on earth my Danya's beagle has died. In the Capitol sits a Legislature, and at PHC I need to sit down with Daddy to do my taxes. I was wrong to think that life begins after college. Life is much too robust a thing to wait while I prepare for it; it laps around my very desk, and laughs at all my efforts to meet it with skill. Thanks be to God, it forces me to be utterly dependent on grace.
Da mi, Domine, scire et intellegere, sed super eas res, amare. Amavisti me, ergo, doce me amare te.... et amare tuos populos. Et da mi felicitas in Christo, qui est mea vita.
Don't mistake me, my dear.... I am so very glad to be alive in this rich, bewildering profusion of opportunity and choice--opportunity to glorify God, choice to choose his will.
posted by Praelucor at 3:04 PM
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