Sunshine on a rocky ledge

I went climbing outdoors today for the first time. I love it. A couple of guys I recently met graciously agreed to teach me, so we headed out to some rocks on the edge of the ocean and went bouldering for the afternoon. It was great. There really aren't words.

Stress vs. Rest

Yesterday I realized that I've really settled in. The realization was triggered when I found myself dancing the polka in the kitchen with one of my roommates and enthusiastically belting out "I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy" at the same time. God is so good to me. He's given me rest in so many ways; sometimes I feel guilty because of the absurd abundance in my life. I hope that this stage is preparation for something; I pray that at some point in my life I'll serve a purpose other than to sit around, study, and attempt to entertain Kim. The question I have to ask is this: is it wrong for me to enjoy life so much? Am I culpable for having such an easy time of it? Is the lack of strife in my life a sign of God's blessing or a sign that I'm simply not encountering reality? Is it possible to be at rest without being complacent?
I suspect that the work will start building up in about two weeks and I won't have time to ask these questions anymore, so if you've got any answers, hit me quick.

Argh

I have no patience for people who refuse to deal with reality.

Maybe I'm one of those people.

Rambling

I'm writing from a new refuge, a large room with angled walls and tiny, arched windows. A narrow, curling staircase leads from the second floor up to the attic that I share with my lovable roommates; this out-of-the-wayness of the space, combined with an abundance of unusual corners and curious nooks, gives me the feeling that I'm Anne of Windy Poplars, or perhaps a less confined Rapunzel, sending secret messages from my eyrie to the ones I love.

This is the last day before school begins in earnest: the introductions were covered last week and tomorrow is the day the hammer falls. There's a saying in law school, old but true (or so I'm told), that in the first year they scare you to death, in the second year they work you to death, and in the third year they bore you to death. The description of first year was fairly accurate; we'll see whether the cliche holds true for second year as well.

I find that I've lost the habit of settling into a place. My things are strewn around the room, not because I like chaos but because I'm beginning to feel that it's hardly worth taking the time to find a place for anything. In a few months, it will all go back into the suitcases and boxes and move with me to the next place. If I plan on remaining a nomad for a few more years I'm going to have to get rid of some of my books.