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| Having no desire to commence in a moment more of social interaction, superficial bonding, or small talk, I have determined to remain in Beaver Falls Coffee and Tea Co. until I am asked to leave, while listening to music and utilizing the free wifi. Though college orientation may indeed be beneficial for alleviating directional disorientation, I have determined that it is otherwise social suicide for anyone with the slightest hint of introversion. The purpose of college orientation seems to be to bond with one's fellow classmates, become well acquainted with rules and regulations, and to be so preoccupied as to not dwell upon thoughts of home. It is like being branded and herded as cattle--names and majors grouped without consideration of our possession of souls. Nevertheless, I believe I defeated such horrors to an extent by meeting other individuals with similar opinions and conversing with them about things of more substance than one's home town, major, and class schedule. Moreover, despite my being a chronic introvert, I managed to enjoy dining in Pittsburgh and sailing along the Allegheny. I also have remained exceedingly optimistic about my days of academia which I intend to spend at Geneva College
...and have hopes to revive this blog of mine in the process. | | |
| There are some who claim to be generally anti-social, who relish the fantasy of solitude, who like nothing more than to read or write therein. Nevertheless, there are even such persons who may, in actuality, find comfort in a crowd. Of course, this comfort is not likely to be found within the crowd of a family picnic or church gathering, but one of the city or the ocean in the summer. Living in an apartment in a small city or large town, as well as a college campus may afford such comforts as well. Within these and other reasonably large populations there are likely to be such small luxuries as wireless internet access and coffee shops, along with the benefits of various gifts each person has been given. Ultimately, the weight of one's own well being does not rest entirely upon oneself. In such a manner, one is able to be social without the supposed horror of being personable, and thus retains sanity which is provided by human interaction without breeching that coveted "comfort zone." For instance, imagine a person sitting in a Starbucks on Broadway and Reade sipping a mocha and reading a novel while surrounded by the ceaseless drone of conversation and blenders. These supposed buzzing distractions, of course, prove no hinderance whatsoever in transporting this person to Paris via Victor Hugo, or perhaps Hemingway, for it is not at all distracting, but a comfort to know that if something of an emergency were to occur, someone would undeniably make mention of it, and all while not directly involving this person. There is minimal social commitment on the part of this person in this scenario. Someone may of course happen to ask for an unoccupied chair, or in a slight frenzy spill their extra hot americano, however even with these potentialities, there is always that greater hope of solitude within the crowd. What's more, even if these, or other, circumstances of living transpire, though it may not involve this person directly, it provides brain stimuli without more exertion than what existance in that place at that time requires. Solitude within solitude, after all, is a bit more complex, a bit less interesting, and much more effort. When a person is completely alone, not only must he prevent himself from going mad, but also provide his own food for thought... all while contemplating things such as, "I suppose if I don't do that [fill in task], it's not going to ever be done." There's no way of "diffusing the responsibility" or "shifting the blame." There's also, perhaps, no wireless and no more than regular coffee with half and half. Imagine, again, this said person quite alone in the middle of no where, fields and semi-large bodies of water all around. Again, this person is engrossed by a novel. However, just as the person has placed the floor cushions just so, brewed the coffee, illumined the room, grabbed a throw, and, of course, the book, begins to sit and discovers that there is, after all, company to be had, manifest in a gushingly green arachnid. Though the one benefit of being unaccompanied by other humans in this situation is the license to scream as horrifyingly as necessary, doing so only further proves the alarming extent of this form of solitude... | | |
| I suppose that bit of sarcasm ought to suffice for a few years. It was rather cathartic, however I did happen to have a few good times and meet a few extraordinary people. Reflecting on such things should provide a bit of balance. (I believe this qualifies as copying Allison--they say it's the best sort of flattery.)
(Kaitlyn, Karen, Anne, Nikki, Natalie, Charis, Annie, me)
(Kaitlyn, Becca, Natalie, Karen, Molly... at Coldstone!)
To begin with, I was given two roommates--Annie and Natalie. Unlike the majority of roommates, we did nearly everything together--ate together, walked to classes together, studied together, cried together (okay, I cried, they were victim to it). Though we shared very few things in common, we are all lit majors which covers a multitude of sins. What's more, though we certainly disagreed on theological issues, we were certainly equally passionate about them, which provided excellent conversation [-nal arguments]. I don't know that I can adequately summarize the three of us in anything less than a novel. Nevertheless, I'll suffice it to say, I have never laughed so thoroughly nor so often, and that was while under a considerable amount of stress.
   
   
 
There were also the lovely ladies who lived above--Kaitlyn, Karen, Allison, and Rachel. Life would been rather dreadful without them. Whether a quick--sincere--"hey, how are you doing?", long, amusing chat, a solution to printer emergencies, or a place to crash...I have those four to thank--and ever so much. I also have Kaitlyn to thank for my getting around to visiting Beans and the Belfry. 
     
Phil is the first person to have managed to convince me that I am not completely abnormal, he being normal, and charmingly so. He was so kind as to drive me to Ketoctin whenever I happened to be at school on the weekends and share in theology class rantings and tolerate my all too frequent gtalk messages.
   
Of course, last semester Jared was the one sentenced to taking me along to church. He's a fairly decent person as well--even if he does go along with credo baptism. :-p
   
Molly and Noelle were my lit class buddies-- that is, if it hadn't been for lit class, there is a good chance that we would not have become friends. I wish that I had more time to spend with them-- the little that we did manage to chat, they proved themselves nothing but sweet and intelligent.
   
Lily! Lily is simply amazing and needs to visit soon because we didn't hang enough at school.
  
Beautiful Becca--always full of compliments; always the most fashionable... and normal in the good sense of the word--bestower of chocolate ice cream.
   
Becca also had a lovely roommate, Jessica--one of the most diligent students I have ever encountered. I had the pleasure of talking to her quite often.
   
Nikki and Charis were my neighbors, and those of the most wonderful sort. I remember them along with smiles and tea cups and all things lovely.
    
Kyle and I sat through 8am Latin together, yet somehow such a connotation did not dissuade him from asking me to the Liberty Ball, where he was so gracious as to actually dance with me (I having never actually danced much previously).
 
Ben somehow managed to eat with us quite often, now that I think of it. Ben is very fun to talk to... until he makes his signature, abrupt exit. hehe. He had me pegged on the first day as "reticent."
Rachel and Brittany and Justin bandaged my stupidity (in the form of a-bit-more-than-scraped knee), as I lay unconscious on the ground after having fallen upon gravel in attempts to avoid tumbling down a grassy hill.
 
Max and Allison, are, of course a package deal, therefore Max was around a bit. Due to being a fellow redhead, having the most memorable introduction out of everyone at school, and being in several of my classes... there seems need for noting him, Allison permitting.
Most sincere thanks to all of you-- I shall (do) miss you--your conversation, trips to Market Street and Starbucks and Panera, talking 'til 3:00am with 8:00am classes the next day, listening to music (driving simply to do so...rather loudly), complaining about assignments and various other things, walking (in the ice and snow...in the dark...on the highway), discussing theology, assuming that everyone possesses a certain level of intelligence, worship at Ketoctin, singing every day in chorale, wraps from the dining hall (more the excitement which they entailed...perhaps undeservedly)--very, very much. (please visit!!!) | | |
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After having spent several months at one rather small place, one would think that upon leaving one would happen to think of that life on occasion. I certainly anticipated that I would think of PHC. However, I've merely had a nightmare involving Latin which was not all that much more horrifying than the actual class. Perhaps it was such a concentrated whirlwind that I've not yet digested it to the extent of possessing the ability to ponder it. Perhaps life here at home is simply pleasantly full. Or, perhaps, I've experienced so very many changes within the past year or so, that I've not yet caught up with myself. I would argue that all have a bit of relevance.
Last semester is a frightening thing. Though on many levels it seemed immeasurably better than the first, I'm quite sure that was only because at the end of most days I would digest all of my troubles with a toffee chip marketccino while listening to my whole new world of music which I had previously forbade myself to become attached. What I didn't realize is that I was only living to survive the next assignment. Having been one who once felt slighted and disappointed over ninety-nine percents and shed tears with any less, the experience not only humbled me to the earth, but buried me beneath it. Furthermore, not only was I not focused on Christ--I wasn't really focused on anything at all. I did learn a few things. I learned how to keep myself from blushing so much--after all, perpetual embarrassment would make that quite a bother. I learned that writing, whether for exams or essays, doesn't require weeks of dedicated study, my soul, or a witty title--getting it in on time is what matters, and since daily assignments are barely achievable, the faster the method of finishing a paper, the better. I learned that approaching things "from a biblical perspective" is not always necessary and simply an addendum--how could it be intrinsic if we can't really know the truth... what I say is true isn't what you say is true and since we're all believers it's better not to cause factions and avoid dwelling on the specifics...they're really not all that important. I learned that peers are the only ones who really understand what you're going through and without them school is not bearable. I learned that ideals are impractical. I learned that I am illogical. I learned that if you cannot speak Latin fluently, you're simply not an intelligent person. I learned that theology may be taught by one who holds to no theology. I learned that Calvin was not a five point calvinist. I learned that excessive opinion positing and long tangents of confidence in class denote intelligence--that's up there with Latin. I learned that snobs are truly better than you... me. I learned that you can prove Christ's resurrection to an unbeliever if you simply have sufficient evidence. I learned that if you don't begin the day with chapel, you don't have enough warm fuzzies to get you through the day. If you would like any more of such extraordinary wisdom... I'm sure I could manage to dig up a bit more. They say sarcasm is repressed anger...
All of that concluded with me passing out... twice.
Fortunately, I'm home now (as of a week ago), officially withdrawn from PHC, looking forward to Geneva, and enjoying the summer. Thus far I've been to Chicago, worked--like crazy--on my apartment, taken several spins around the neighborhood on the bicycle built for two, tutored my brother, raided IKEA, been transported to France via Hemingway, earned the title of chef, visited my lovely cousin Ali, had a mocha at Beans, assembled three bookshelves, meandered about a semi-antique shop, watched three movies, and eaten a bowl of cherries. I'm looking for a job, too. Otherwise my computer has yet to be fixed, so if anyone happens to be capable of re-imaging computers...
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"...
Lately I haven't been myself at all
It's heavy on my mind
I'm dreaming again
Like I've always been
And way down low
I know
..."
-Norah Jones | | |
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