Well, maybe not quite. But I'm on my way.
I had my newspaper practicum class last night. When I heard about this class, I thought maybe we would learn about writing for a few weeks and then towards the end of the semester maybe write something that we could put in the school paper. I was ready to sit at a desk and take notes for an hour.
Instead I found myself standing in the tiny newspaper office, accepting an assignment on the upcoming Behrend Alumni weekend. Head still reeling from what I had signed up for, an editor threw an old edition of the school paper at me and told me to read it, because then I would know how to write. Class dismissed.
On one hand it's scary. I've never had anything of mine in any kind of paper before. I've never interviewed anyone before. They didn't even give me an angle, I have to come up with my own story. I mean, I still walk out of my dorm and spin foolishly until I figure out which way my next class is, I'm still trying to learn how to survive day by day here. And if I blow this, I have a professor and a room full of upperclassmen editors to answer to. Oh, and I have less than a week to finish it.
On the other hand, it's wonderful. For the first time since I arrived at college, someone is already assuming that I am an intelligent, capable adult. I have to turn almost nothing into a 500 word newspaper article. I'm already building a portfolio. I'm responsible for finding who I need to, making an appointment, and asking them the right questions. I then have a to write something clear, accurate, and at least a little bit interesting. And then whatever I crank out will be published, in black and white, with my name attached to it, and people will read it.
I wish I could explain what this has done to my life here at college. Until now, everything has felt fragmented and out of place. My days haven't been strung together, they just kind of float aimlessly around while I try in vain to peg everything down. I was a nameless student drifting around a big, new and strange campus. But now I have a name and I have a voice in this place. People are counting on me and I belong to something. When the paper comes out I will hold it and say, this wouldn't have been the same if it weren't for me.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
"Horses? How novel!"
OK. So some of my classes are boring and painful, like English and Math. And some are very interesting, like Earth science (even though the professor is a die-hard global warming doomsayer) and Comparitive Religon. And then there is Intro to Political Science. It's a fascinating class in a read it and learn it yourself kind of way. The professor is insane, but that just makes it really fun.
Today, for example, she was talking about how she had one of her classes last year act out part of Plato's Republic. Turns out there is a basement in her building where the theatre stores all of the old props from previous plays. And she says,
"There is some really great stuff down there, in perfect condition, and not even that securely locked up. If you wanted a practically new, 12-person dining set for free, for example, there is a big grate in the woman's bathroom just down the hall. Now if you take a tire iron you can pull out the grate and descend into the basement, it's all right there. That's what my class did for thier costumes last year, anyways. I don't really want to do it again, so I'm just going to befriend the theatre department and then ask for the key. You know, to the door."
I almost died.
Mmm, another insight to life at Behrend. I have two essays to write and a little under 100 pages to read tonight (but 30 of them are Plato, so they should count for about five times as much.) And I've climbed 288 stairs, and it's only 2:30.
And I'm out of milk.
Today, for example, she was talking about how she had one of her classes last year act out part of Plato's Republic. Turns out there is a basement in her building where the theatre stores all of the old props from previous plays. And she says,
"There is some really great stuff down there, in perfect condition, and not even that securely locked up. If you wanted a practically new, 12-person dining set for free, for example, there is a big grate in the woman's bathroom just down the hall. Now if you take a tire iron you can pull out the grate and descend into the basement, it's all right there. That's what my class did for thier costumes last year, anyways. I don't really want to do it again, so I'm just going to befriend the theatre department and then ask for the key. You know, to the door."
I almost died.
Mmm, another insight to life at Behrend. I have two essays to write and a little under 100 pages to read tonight (but 30 of them are Plato, so they should count for about five times as much.) And I've climbed 288 stairs, and it's only 2:30.
And I'm out of milk.
Monday, August 27, 2007
My first college class!
English 015, M W F 9:00-10:00.
We sat down, and wrote out our names, majors, hometowns, intrests, and something special about us. Then we got the syllabus, and a diagnostic essay took up the rest of the class. We recieved our first assignment and left.
I got back to my room and sat down to do the assignment; read the intro and respond to it. The whole idea was that this book would provide templates for each of our essays. It's set up like this.
"Of course some object that_______________. Although I concede that ___________, I still maintain that ___________."
My first class in higher education, and I get fill-in-the-blank essays! I just sat down and wrote a fill. in. the. blank. essay. I cannot wrap my mind around this. I just spent all of last year learning how to write outside of triangle-block-block-trainagle format. I've just learned how to be an independent, clear-thinking writer.
And I'm writing fill in the blank essays! I just wrote an essay about how much I hate the templates, in the template form. The irony is so beautiful. It's like taking an art class, finding your style and becoming confident in it, and then something flings a color-by-number book at you.
Oh well. I need a 3.3 GPA for my major, and this class will help me get it. I just hope I can actually learn something in the other ones.
We sat down, and wrote out our names, majors, hometowns, intrests, and something special about us. Then we got the syllabus, and a diagnostic essay took up the rest of the class. We recieved our first assignment and left.
I got back to my room and sat down to do the assignment; read the intro and respond to it. The whole idea was that this book would provide templates for each of our essays. It's set up like this.
"Of course some object that_______________. Although I concede that ___________, I still maintain that ___________."
My first class in higher education, and I get fill-in-the-blank essays! I just sat down and wrote a fill. in. the. blank. essay. I cannot wrap my mind around this. I just spent all of last year learning how to write outside of triangle-block-block-trainagle format. I've just learned how to be an independent, clear-thinking writer.
And I'm writing fill in the blank essays! I just wrote an essay about how much I hate the templates, in the template form. The irony is so beautiful. It's like taking an art class, finding your style and becoming confident in it, and then something flings a color-by-number book at you.
Oh well. I need a 3.3 GPA for my major, and this class will help me get it. I just hope I can actually learn something in the other ones.
Friday, August 24, 2007
College = Summer Camp
I'm not kidding. The similarities are uncanny. Your family unloads your luggage in the 90+ degree weather, into your tiny, un-air conditioned room. You spend the better part of the day unpacking and organizing and cramming. Then your family leaves and you feel roughly ten years old and three feet tall. You eat with strangers, and then go to a couple of forced, sit and roast while we explain obvious rules kind of gatherings. Throw in a bad comedian and an awkward shower with flip flops on.
On a serious note, I like my room. It's new and clean and bright and not too cramped. And it has a great big window. It's just so hard to believe that I'll be living here for one year. It seems like after a week I'll pack up and go home. I haven't really talked to my neighboors - everyone is hot and exhausted and finishing unpacking. I'm sure I'll meet more people tomorrow than I can keep straight.
Tomorrow is a bunch of mandatory, repsonsible drinking, repsonsible sex, this is how you do laundry kind of meetings. I need to buy milk and get an ID card for my keychain, and pick up my textbooks. I can't wait until classes start - I don't really like not having anything to do. It'll be easier to make friends when I have classes and clubs and studying and a life.
Too tired to see straight anymore. I'll keep you posted on all of the horrific ice-breakers they make us do.
On a serious note, I like my room. It's new and clean and bright and not too cramped. And it has a great big window. It's just so hard to believe that I'll be living here for one year. It seems like after a week I'll pack up and go home. I haven't really talked to my neighboors - everyone is hot and exhausted and finishing unpacking. I'm sure I'll meet more people tomorrow than I can keep straight.
Tomorrow is a bunch of mandatory, repsonsible drinking, repsonsible sex, this is how you do laundry kind of meetings. I need to buy milk and get an ID card for my keychain, and pick up my textbooks. I can't wait until classes start - I don't really like not having anything to do. It'll be easier to make friends when I have classes and clubs and studying and a life.
Too tired to see straight anymore. I'll keep you posted on all of the horrific ice-breakers they make us do.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Quotes
"Are you anxious?"
"I am going forth into an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untired heart."
"Life is short and the world is wide."
"And don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's gone?"
"When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like squirrels from the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we will shiver cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don;t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in."
"And I'm free. Free falling."
"Nobody understands anyone 18, including those who are 18."
"Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, with open arms and open eyes."
"My favorite thing is to go where I've never been."
"You show me a girl with both feet planted firmly on the ground, and I'll show you a girl who can't get her pants on."
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."
"So take a shower, shine your shoes. You got no time to lose. You re young men, you must be living."
"I am going forth into an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untired heart."
"Life is short and the world is wide."
"And don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got til it's gone?"
"When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like squirrels from the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we will shiver cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don;t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in."
"And I'm free. Free falling."
"Nobody understands anyone 18, including those who are 18."
"Whatever tomorrow brings, I'll be there, with open arms and open eyes."
"My favorite thing is to go where I've never been."
"You show me a girl with both feet planted firmly on the ground, and I'll show you a girl who can't get her pants on."
"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."
"So take a shower, shine your shoes. You got no time to lose. You re young men, you must be living."
Monday, August 20, 2007
100th Post!
I didn't spend anytime packing yesterday!
After church, I picked up Lindsay. We went to the school to swing and catch up on the past year, going over the highlights and the best stories. Then we drove out to the lake, and walked the pier. The sun was warm and the air was cool and the sky was blue, blue, blue. Everyone had their sailboats out for one last time. I decided that I wanted enough money someday for a bright red sailboat, a navy blue cableknit sweater and khaki shorts. I would sail it down the East coast and back, and the local paper would write a story on me. Still haven't decided on a name for my boat, though. We walked the beach in bare feet and enjoyed the fresh air instead of the usual, polluted stink. We inspected the old, empty train station and watched some beach volleyball.
I got us thoroughly lost on the way home. I missed my exit and we had to crack open my mapbook and navigate our way down isolated country roads back to familiar territory. On the way back we passed a sweet corn stand and I pulled a U-turn and squealed over to the dirt pull-off. We paid the very bored kid who was running the stand (and had a mysterious southern drawl) to finally return home a half an hour later than planned. But with dinner we had the most phenomenal corn on the cob anyone could remember eating.
After she left, I went with my family to Coldstone Creamery. I had homemade chocolate ice cream with massive chunks of cookie dough mixed in; it was incredible. Tonight continues the summer farewell with a local baseball game birthday celebration. Provided, of course, that the weather gives up this noncomital drizzling nonsense.
It's a week full of last things. Last Sundays as a regular at my church, last visits until the holidays, last minute paperwork. Last beach trips and ice cream runs for the year, last time I'll see something until I unpack it into my dormroom. Last day at training camp, last swim in my pool. Last nights in my own bed, last mornings with a toaster, last drives in my own car for a while. Everything changes soon. And it's a little bit sad, but it's also good and exciting.
Oh. So this is bittersweet.
After church, I picked up Lindsay. We went to the school to swing and catch up on the past year, going over the highlights and the best stories. Then we drove out to the lake, and walked the pier. The sun was warm and the air was cool and the sky was blue, blue, blue. Everyone had their sailboats out for one last time. I decided that I wanted enough money someday for a bright red sailboat, a navy blue cableknit sweater and khaki shorts. I would sail it down the East coast and back, and the local paper would write a story on me. Still haven't decided on a name for my boat, though. We walked the beach in bare feet and enjoyed the fresh air instead of the usual, polluted stink. We inspected the old, empty train station and watched some beach volleyball.
I got us thoroughly lost on the way home. I missed my exit and we had to crack open my mapbook and navigate our way down isolated country roads back to familiar territory. On the way back we passed a sweet corn stand and I pulled a U-turn and squealed over to the dirt pull-off. We paid the very bored kid who was running the stand (and had a mysterious southern drawl) to finally return home a half an hour later than planned. But with dinner we had the most phenomenal corn on the cob anyone could remember eating.
After she left, I went with my family to Coldstone Creamery. I had homemade chocolate ice cream with massive chunks of cookie dough mixed in; it was incredible. Tonight continues the summer farewell with a local baseball game birthday celebration. Provided, of course, that the weather gives up this noncomital drizzling nonsense.
It's a week full of last things. Last Sundays as a regular at my church, last visits until the holidays, last minute paperwork. Last beach trips and ice cream runs for the year, last time I'll see something until I unpack it into my dormroom. Last day at training camp, last swim in my pool. Last nights in my own bed, last mornings with a toaster, last drives in my own car for a while. Everything changes soon. And it's a little bit sad, but it's also good and exciting.
Oh. So this is bittersweet.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
A Week Full Of Last Things
The other day I piled every single article of clothing in possesion in a heap on my floor. This heap was as high as my waist and about six feet in circumference. I spent an hour dividing those clothes into the following piles: garbage, whites, darks, jeans, sweats, gentles, and that funny pile full of things not quite denim but too heavy to wash with the t-shirts and skirts, like capris and jackets. The two garbage bags went into the trash, and I began the laundry cycle. I got half washed and folded that day - enough to fill my dresser.
So, today I will resume laundry and get everything packed away, either into a fall or a winter tote. Then I'll have to go through my desk, throw out or store all of the old stuff and pack up everything I need. I'll have to weed out my book and journal collection - I can only bring half. Finally I'll go through everthing I have bought or received recently and pack all of that up. Lastly I'll take down everything on my walls that I want to bring, pictures, my calander, my flag, and tons of other little stuff.
I'm hoping I can get the majority of packing done today. I still need some computer stuff, all of my toiletries, and finish leftover paperwork. I also have to figure out my phone payment system and get the mail-in rebate sent in.
I also have to see Lindsay while she's home, and celebrate Stacy's birthday with a Muckdog's game. I have to go to Bill's training camp with Nate, and get my family to Coldstone Creamery, as they've never been. I should wash my car and my dog before I go, and do some research on the Penn State football team as well as Pittsburgh. I need to get to Lugia's and my favorite swingset to watch the sun set.
I'm waiting to get anxious. I'm not really, yet. I wonder if I will be...
So, today I will resume laundry and get everything packed away, either into a fall or a winter tote. Then I'll have to go through my desk, throw out or store all of the old stuff and pack up everything I need. I'll have to weed out my book and journal collection - I can only bring half. Finally I'll go through everthing I have bought or received recently and pack all of that up. Lastly I'll take down everything on my walls that I want to bring, pictures, my calander, my flag, and tons of other little stuff.
I'm hoping I can get the majority of packing done today. I still need some computer stuff, all of my toiletries, and finish leftover paperwork. I also have to figure out my phone payment system and get the mail-in rebate sent in.
I also have to see Lindsay while she's home, and celebrate Stacy's birthday with a Muckdog's game. I have to go to Bill's training camp with Nate, and get my family to Coldstone Creamery, as they've never been. I should wash my car and my dog before I go, and do some research on the Penn State football team as well as Pittsburgh. I need to get to Lugia's and my favorite swingset to watch the sun set.
I'm waiting to get anxious. I'm not really, yet. I wonder if I will be...
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Glamour my foot
I'm slowly coming to the realization that being a grown-up is not all that glamorous.
Take getting ready for college. The big moving-out, you're an adult for real now, time to get your life together event. For whatever reason I've always envisioned sitting in my sunny room, loading magically laundered and folded clothing into new, shiney totes while my friends flop around my room and keep me company. Or carefully assembing new school supplies into boxes, dressed in sweats and listening to music in a very mature and independent way; perhaps eating chocolates and drinking wine. Or shopping cheerfully with mom buying bedding and pillows and fancy pens and new clothes, throwing the new items carelessly over our shoulders into infinte shopping carts and whipping out my magic debit card to pay.
Well guess what. Moving is stressful. I spent ten hours straight shopping Thursday of last week. And not "Oh, look at these great towels," shopping but "Why the @%$& can I not find a purse-sized umrella that works properly?" Shopping when you finally stop for dinner at 7:00 and can't make another decision to save your life and want to just tell the server to surprise you. And how do you get all of your clothes clean for packing and still have clothes to wear the few days before your move? Why is a lock for a Macbook hard to find? How do laptop locks work, anyways? And do you kow how much NOT fun it is to spend money that you've put in agonizing hours to earn? Buy a bathrobe and you're going "This is 3 hours of work..." and a little piece of you dies.
I have a notepad by my bed so that when I remember things at night I can write them down and then maybe fall asleep again. My to-do list just gets longer and longer becuase I only have evenings and weekends to get all of it done. I have to be in bed by at least 11:00 or the following 8 hours of work are just to painful to bear. I overslept a half hour today. I woke up with my alarm blaring and my face burried in my brand-spanking new, $30 (including cover) body pillow. The clock said 6:37 and I mumbled angry nothings while I flung clothes onto myself and braced for a long, dull day without a shower in it. Not all that better than high school, really.
OK. I need to quit procrastinating and get to my list.
Stupid list.
Take getting ready for college. The big moving-out, you're an adult for real now, time to get your life together event. For whatever reason I've always envisioned sitting in my sunny room, loading magically laundered and folded clothing into new, shiney totes while my friends flop around my room and keep me company. Or carefully assembing new school supplies into boxes, dressed in sweats and listening to music in a very mature and independent way; perhaps eating chocolates and drinking wine. Or shopping cheerfully with mom buying bedding and pillows and fancy pens and new clothes, throwing the new items carelessly over our shoulders into infinte shopping carts and whipping out my magic debit card to pay.
Well guess what. Moving is stressful. I spent ten hours straight shopping Thursday of last week. And not "Oh, look at these great towels," shopping but "Why the @%$& can I not find a purse-sized umrella that works properly?" Shopping when you finally stop for dinner at 7:00 and can't make another decision to save your life and want to just tell the server to surprise you. And how do you get all of your clothes clean for packing and still have clothes to wear the few days before your move? Why is a lock for a Macbook hard to find? How do laptop locks work, anyways? And do you kow how much NOT fun it is to spend money that you've put in agonizing hours to earn? Buy a bathrobe and you're going "This is 3 hours of work..." and a little piece of you dies.
I have a notepad by my bed so that when I remember things at night I can write them down and then maybe fall asleep again. My to-do list just gets longer and longer becuase I only have evenings and weekends to get all of it done. I have to be in bed by at least 11:00 or the following 8 hours of work are just to painful to bear. I overslept a half hour today. I woke up with my alarm blaring and my face burried in my brand-spanking new, $30 (including cover) body pillow. The clock said 6:37 and I mumbled angry nothings while I flung clothes onto myself and braced for a long, dull day without a shower in it. Not all that better than high school, really.
OK. I need to quit procrastinating and get to my list.
Stupid list.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Love.
"Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails."
1 Corinthians 13: 7-8a.
I have a new favorite Bible verse.
1 Corinthians 13: 7-8a.
I have a new favorite Bible verse.
Friday, August 10, 2007
Preseason football
I have missed football. A couple months after the Superbowl I missed it painfully, consciously. I would sit on the couch on Sunday afternoons, staring into space, longing. During the fall I would kill myself on Saturdays so long as I had my Sundays free. Curl up with a blanket and popcorn and my sweat pants and I would just revel in the sport for hours.
After a while the bite went away. Like when you lose a leg but get used to your wheelchair. OK, so I exagerate, but you know what I mean. And now, preseason has begun, and my leg is back! And I'm running and jumping and doing cartwheels.
Slowly it's all coming back. Manning Peyton audibles. JP Losman scrambles. The Bills have lost McGahee but we have the A-Train. Tony Romo is showing up to play. I remember things like fumbles in the endzone and hail mary's thrown down the field in desperation. The pressure when a quarterback is thrwing out of the end zone, when a kicker decides the score. 50-yard rushes and one-handed catches. Bad beer commercials, the referee's silly socks, the yellow flag, the crunching sound when two brick walls of human beings collide. The clean, new uniforms, the dirtier, rowdier fans. Coaches prowling the sidelines, muttering into their headsets, screaming at players and refs alike.
And the anticipation. Who will be the suprise team, what talent is yet undiscovered? What name will achieve fame and glory? Everyone is playing to earn their place; the hits are hard and the stakes are high. Every single time the ball is snapped, players jump off the line like thier livlihoods depend on it - and it does.
I am falling madly in love with football all over again.
After a while the bite went away. Like when you lose a leg but get used to your wheelchair. OK, so I exagerate, but you know what I mean. And now, preseason has begun, and my leg is back! And I'm running and jumping and doing cartwheels.
Slowly it's all coming back. Manning Peyton audibles. JP Losman scrambles. The Bills have lost McGahee but we have the A-Train. Tony Romo is showing up to play. I remember things like fumbles in the endzone and hail mary's thrown down the field in desperation. The pressure when a quarterback is thrwing out of the end zone, when a kicker decides the score. 50-yard rushes and one-handed catches. Bad beer commercials, the referee's silly socks, the yellow flag, the crunching sound when two brick walls of human beings collide. The clean, new uniforms, the dirtier, rowdier fans. Coaches prowling the sidelines, muttering into their headsets, screaming at players and refs alike.
And the anticipation. Who will be the suprise team, what talent is yet undiscovered? What name will achieve fame and glory? Everyone is playing to earn their place; the hits are hard and the stakes are high. Every single time the ball is snapped, players jump off the line like thier livlihoods depend on it - and it does.
I am falling madly in love with football all over again.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
I am ready
I move out in 20 days.
It's a strange thing. I've never moved out before. Then again, it's something nearly everyone does. So it can't be that bad, right? Besides, I'm ready. That's such a vague statement, "I'm ready." This is how I know I am ready.
I used to feel panicky about it. Every once in a while, something would trigger the panic, some statement or realization. And then it felt like I was caught in a massive, grey tornado, moving too quickly and too loudly. Not knowing which way was up or down or foward or backward. Watching the things I loved the most being ripped away from me and flung who knows where. And all I would be able to do for a few moments was to stand still, hang on to something, and concentrate on breathing. It's very hard to breathe inside of a tornado.
This happened for the last time at the beach with Mel and her family. I had set up the beach as the barrier between me and change. After that vacation, Mel would leave, and more friends would follow, I would start working 40 hours per week, and I knew that school would hit me like a brick wall soon after. Fortunately, the beach has a certain timeless quality. Minutes, hours, days drift by and no one bothers to keep track. Until. Until the second to last day, Ange mentioned that Mel had three Sundays left at home. And that brought on the tornado. It was the biggest and blackest of them all, and while everyone else was lazing in the sand, I lay face down on my towel, fists cluthing the fabric under me. For a few minutes I thought about breathing. When I had re-learned how to do that, I grabbed my journal and anchored myself as well as I could. It worked a little bit. The center of the storm had widened, and I could see that day and the day after. But if I looked any further, all I could see was blank, dark, walls of wind.
I spent the afternoon staving off the tornado. It required a lot of moving around, a lot of half-thinking about things. When a real storm cloud gathered over our house, I volunteered to run down to the beach and rescue the towels. No one wants to pack soggy, heavy towels. I left the house full of people and laughter and love, and walked outside. My fright was juxtopsed in the thick wind and grey sky. My tornado closed in again, and I turned to the only constant thing I have. I told God that I couldn't do it if it was a trade-off. I couldn't go foward if it meant leaving everything I cherished behind. I explained that it felt like the end of that week was the beginning of the end of everything that I loved.
When I reached the beach, a herd of kids were running along the water and shouting. Adults were standing and pointing out to sea. I saw a grey back with a fin slide up out of the water, just beyond the sandbar, and then glide back in. It reemerged a few feet down the beach, and disappeared again. I had never before in my life seen a dolphin. But ever since my parents at Myrtle Beach, I must have been 3 or 4 or something, had told me that they had woken up early and saw a whole group of dolphins, I have wanted to. I smiled for the first time all day. After I watched it progress out of sight, I gathered the towels into a heap and began to walk back to the house. I talked again to the constant thing. I thanked Him for showing me a dolphin after all this time, in the middle of my panic. And then my tornado broke into a million pieces and all I could feel was sun.
New words, warmer and more solid than my own thoughts, said, "Rachel, I've given you wonderful things your whole life. What makes you think I should stop now? Your future is full of love, even more love than you have today. More love than you can imagine for yourself. I promise. More love." Then a warm and solid chuckle that clearly said; have some faith, you crazy girl.
Usually I don't go for the whole finding God in the wind thing. But then I remembered that we had a washer and dryer in the house, and I looked at the heap of sandy towels in my arms, and the rain started to fall and I just laughed at myself. I've also noticed that the tornado hasn't been back. I now know that the future does not belong to me. But my future does not belong to blank, dark wind, either. This is why I am ready: I do not feel like my life is being dragged out of my grasping hands. I gave my future to God, and He put great and wonderful things into it. Now all I have to do is go after the life that He has made for me.
It's a strange thing. I've never moved out before. Then again, it's something nearly everyone does. So it can't be that bad, right? Besides, I'm ready. That's such a vague statement, "I'm ready." This is how I know I am ready.
I used to feel panicky about it. Every once in a while, something would trigger the panic, some statement or realization. And then it felt like I was caught in a massive, grey tornado, moving too quickly and too loudly. Not knowing which way was up or down or foward or backward. Watching the things I loved the most being ripped away from me and flung who knows where. And all I would be able to do for a few moments was to stand still, hang on to something, and concentrate on breathing. It's very hard to breathe inside of a tornado.
This happened for the last time at the beach with Mel and her family. I had set up the beach as the barrier between me and change. After that vacation, Mel would leave, and more friends would follow, I would start working 40 hours per week, and I knew that school would hit me like a brick wall soon after. Fortunately, the beach has a certain timeless quality. Minutes, hours, days drift by and no one bothers to keep track. Until. Until the second to last day, Ange mentioned that Mel had three Sundays left at home. And that brought on the tornado. It was the biggest and blackest of them all, and while everyone else was lazing in the sand, I lay face down on my towel, fists cluthing the fabric under me. For a few minutes I thought about breathing. When I had re-learned how to do that, I grabbed my journal and anchored myself as well as I could. It worked a little bit. The center of the storm had widened, and I could see that day and the day after. But if I looked any further, all I could see was blank, dark, walls of wind.
I spent the afternoon staving off the tornado. It required a lot of moving around, a lot of half-thinking about things. When a real storm cloud gathered over our house, I volunteered to run down to the beach and rescue the towels. No one wants to pack soggy, heavy towels. I left the house full of people and laughter and love, and walked outside. My fright was juxtopsed in the thick wind and grey sky. My tornado closed in again, and I turned to the only constant thing I have. I told God that I couldn't do it if it was a trade-off. I couldn't go foward if it meant leaving everything I cherished behind. I explained that it felt like the end of that week was the beginning of the end of everything that I loved.
When I reached the beach, a herd of kids were running along the water and shouting. Adults were standing and pointing out to sea. I saw a grey back with a fin slide up out of the water, just beyond the sandbar, and then glide back in. It reemerged a few feet down the beach, and disappeared again. I had never before in my life seen a dolphin. But ever since my parents at Myrtle Beach, I must have been 3 or 4 or something, had told me that they had woken up early and saw a whole group of dolphins, I have wanted to. I smiled for the first time all day. After I watched it progress out of sight, I gathered the towels into a heap and began to walk back to the house. I talked again to the constant thing. I thanked Him for showing me a dolphin after all this time, in the middle of my panic. And then my tornado broke into a million pieces and all I could feel was sun.
New words, warmer and more solid than my own thoughts, said, "Rachel, I've given you wonderful things your whole life. What makes you think I should stop now? Your future is full of love, even more love than you have today. More love than you can imagine for yourself. I promise. More love." Then a warm and solid chuckle that clearly said; have some faith, you crazy girl.
Usually I don't go for the whole finding God in the wind thing. But then I remembered that we had a washer and dryer in the house, and I looked at the heap of sandy towels in my arms, and the rain started to fall and I just laughed at myself. I've also noticed that the tornado hasn't been back. I now know that the future does not belong to me. But my future does not belong to blank, dark wind, either. This is why I am ready: I do not feel like my life is being dragged out of my grasping hands. I gave my future to God, and He put great and wonderful things into it. Now all I have to do is go after the life that He has made for me.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
A Poem Worth Memorizing -
Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the muse;
Nothing refuse.
'Tis a brave master,
Let it have scope,
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope;
High and more high,
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent;
But 'tis a god,
Knows its own path,
And the outlets of the sky.
'Tis not for the mean,
It requireth courage stout,
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending;
Such 'twill reward,
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.
Leave all for love;—
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, for ever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.
Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
Vague shadow of surmise,
Flits across her bosom young
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free,
Do not thou detain a hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.
Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Tho' her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.
~Emerson
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the muse;
Nothing refuse.
'Tis a brave master,
Let it have scope,
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope;
High and more high,
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent;
But 'tis a god,
Knows its own path,
And the outlets of the sky.
'Tis not for the mean,
It requireth courage stout,
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending;
Such 'twill reward,
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.
Leave all for love;—
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, for ever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.
Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
Vague shadow of surmise,
Flits across her bosom young
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free,
Do not thou detain a hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.
Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Tho' her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.
~Emerson
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