Love and Books

On chilly days when I'm beginning to remember just how cold winter is going to be, I love to make myself a cup of tea, wrap up in sweaters and slippers and blankets, and curl up by a heater. Ginger tea is especially good because (a) it warms me up, (b) there's a new yoga pose on each box, and (c) there are little fortune-cookie type sayings attached to each bag. Today's cup of gingery goodness informed me that "Where there is love, there is no question". Now, far be it from me to question the deep wisdom of a teamaker who has spent years perfecting her Sun Salutations, but... no questions? Really? Let's look into that. What if I were to love a guy who's totally unsuited to me? What if I loved a guy my parents hated? What if I loved a guy who didn't love me? Wouldn't there be a lot of questions in those situations? I can't imagine that there wouldn't be at least a little internal strife. I recognize that I'm pretty ignorant when it comes to love, and there's lots I don't know, but all of the knowledge I've gleaned seems to indicate that love tends to complicate things, not simplify them.

Just a thought.


And now for something completely different...

I love the written word. Love it. Passionately. When I was a kid, I spent most of my time reading. I preferred books to people. To my shame, that's the truth. I still love to read, so much so that I don't usually let myself start a new book during the semester because I know I won't get any work done until the book is finished. Sadly, this passion doesn't extend to legal cases and academic writing. I'm beginning to wonder whether some strange process beginning in late undergrad or professional school and intensifying throughout Master's and PhD programs kills people's ability to write interesting and comprehensible stuff. Judges, professors, law students, and government workers are some of the worst writers I've ever encountered. It's truly depressing that this is the world I might end up in.

I think I'm going to start writing stories. My roommate has pointed out that I come up with tons of bizarre and wildly improbable explanations for pretty much everything that happens to us in the course of the day. I think what she's implying is that I should stop pestering her with absurd suggestions for why someone hasn't called (for example, "he's probably secretly got a harem in Lichtenstein and is busy trying to keep the peace among his seven wives and 54 kids") and find another way of exorcising the possibilities (and impossibilities) that are constantly running through my head. Someone else recently encouraged me to harness those creative energies and take writing more seriously. I think I will. I'll keep you all updated.

Bloom

Nance wandered through the halls of possibility and found herself in a dark corner. She was afraid of these people who spoke of what they did not know and gossipped about things that had yet to be. She feared that they would speak something into being before it had time to grow into the world; that, premature and undeveloped, it would die of fright and exposure at the first careless word.

I have been one acquainted with the night

Robert Frost's writing is so lovely.

I love being up at night when everyone else is asleep and the house is still.

I watched The Science of Sleep tonight with some new friends and totally loved it. If you've got an open mind and want to brim over with happiness, I recommend it.

Life is so good and interesting and exciting.

On another note, I need to get a lot of schoolwork done and I think I'll need supernatural help to gather my wits, get my self-control going and get it done, so pray for me!

Praise God for small things... and not so small...

Celebrate! I've finally let go of a fixation that's been dragging me down for ages. It's wonderful to wake up to the fact that no matter how much I wish for something, that doesn't make it true. It's even more wonderful to realize that the world is better as it is. The truth really does set us free. God is so good in helping us to grow up and move on.

My song of the week is "Jackie Jackson" by Franz Ferdinand. It's hilarious. Go to http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/collective/watchandlisten#playlist to hear it.

I am a bad blogger, and that's the truth. In my defence, I spent 6 days away from the computer over Thanksgiving. Instead of checking my email and doing homework, I spent time hanging out with my family and wandering aimlessly through airports. On that note, the Person of the Week is Sarah, who works for my dad and books my tickets. She manages to upgrade my tickets to business class about 75% of the time. It's wonderful.

As for stuff I've been thinking about lately, there's so much that it's hard to know where to begin. I've been thinking a lot about poverty and inequality and the things I take for granted in society that aren't necessarily necessary or good. And I've been thinking about how we as people (or maybe it's just me) tend to think of other people as means rather than ends: objects that we use or get rid of in order to reach our goals rather than persons who deserve to be known, loved and served in and of themselves. So many things that I hate in our world stem directly from this problem: prostitution, pornography, abortions, rape, child abuse, and (on the less intense but still heartbreaking end of things) broken relationships, people stuck in jobs for which they're completely unsuited, jealousy, impatience, coldness and lack of unity. But how do you build a society based on love and respect? It's pretty hard to enforce.

I need to go to bed... more later.