Thursday, May 31, 2012
About Me
Have I posted this tumblr yet? I am a little obsessed since I am an INTJ (my Myers-Briggs type) and so it basically describes me. Especially the bits about sarcasm and emotions. If you want to understand the insides of my head and heart, peruse this tumblr. You won't get a full understanding, but you'll come out so much closer. If you are an INTJ (especially a lady one), read it! You will feel so much less alone.
DHQ
If you are ever in a bad mood, go visit an elementary school and spend some time with the little ones. I have been in kindergarten therapy once a week since getting back from Ohio and it is amazing. (By kindergarten therapy, I mean the small ones are my therapy. My mom is a teacher, so I go to her room and hope to be more helpful than disruptive.) The babble-y chaos of a kindergarten classroom helps with my days that consist of solitary distance learning. I generally find small children intimidating because they are breakable, belong to other people, and don't understand sarcasm. Then I spend time with them and realize they are just tiny people who haven't forgotten how to be enthusiastic about life.
I come into the room to a popcorn of "Hi, Ms. Beth!" I wave at one and another pipes up until I swear everyone has greeted me at least twice. Then I sit and do end-of-year inventory or other such work while life in kindergarten goes on. Somehow, five or six find their way over to me to ask what I am doing and tell me what they are doing. During free time, I have a few requests: Play kitchen with me! Read a book with me! Fantastic for the self-esteem. Also, I reached my daily hug quota (DHQ), something very rarely achieved, mostly because of my personal space bubble. Small children slip in easily, however. After only a few days in the classroom, I think I am going to miss these children when school lets out.
I come into the room to a popcorn of "Hi, Ms. Beth!" I wave at one and another pipes up until I swear everyone has greeted me at least twice. Then I sit and do end-of-year inventory or other such work while life in kindergarten goes on. Somehow, five or six find their way over to me to ask what I am doing and tell me what they are doing. During free time, I have a few requests: Play kitchen with me! Read a book with me! Fantastic for the self-esteem. Also, I reached my daily hug quota (DHQ), something very rarely achieved, mostly because of my personal space bubble. Small children slip in easily, however. After only a few days in the classroom, I think I am going to miss these children when school lets out.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Prayer Segment #9: Two Poems
These two poems were used when I was at Catholics on Call, a young adult discernment conference. (Which, by the way, was an amazing experience and one which I would highly recommend.) I use the last two lines from each to center myself throughout the day and remind myself that God and His Will are most important.
The Summer Day (Mary Oliver)
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean --
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down --
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.
The Summer Day (Mary Oliver)
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean --
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down --
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Ten Thousand Flowers (Wu-Men)
Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn,
a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.
If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things,
this is the best season of your life.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Day-Maker #63
This morning at 8:30am, I looked out the window and saw a man with a guitar in his hand walking from a neighbor's backyard to the street. Not in a case, mind you, just in his hand. I don't know what was really happening, but in my head, he serenaded someone last night, fell asleep in the grass, and just woke up. Earliest day-maker yet.
Ye Olde Games
No trip to the 'burg is complete without a stroll or two down DoG Street, preferably one by day and one by night. This past trip, I had both. My midnight walk ended in an awkward moment and an emergency trip to Wawa with Julia, so it felt like undergrad all over again. Daytime was more successful. I had some time to wander alone: I enjoyed to beautiful weather and sat on colonial steps reading Jane Austen. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon. Then, with company, I met a colonial person at an outdoor booth and learned how to play colonial games.
The first game I learned was "shut the box." It is a tavern dice-game that seemed well-suited to its purpose: it would be fun to play while sitting around drinking and chatting. I wished we'd had it the night before, when Julia, Ariel, and I had been out.
The next game was trap ball. This one was my favorite -- not so much because of the game, but because we made a spectacle. (I seemed to do that a lot this past weekend. In a variety of ways.) The game is like tee-ball without a tee. You launch a ball from a wooden trap into the air and try to hit it. If you are in the field, you try to catch the ball when it is hit, or throw it back at the trap. The game started out as one colonial person and three tourists, but we gained small children and adult people as the game progressed.
At one moment, I was enjoying watching a small, blond boy attempt to learn the game. Another tourist walked up to me and asked how old he was. With a start, I realized that she thought he was mine! Which, from appearances makes sense, but still surprised me. This last story is of "day-maker" length, but I'm not quite sure it counts as one.
The first game I learned was "shut the box." It is a tavern dice-game that seemed well-suited to its purpose: it would be fun to play while sitting around drinking and chatting. I wished we'd had it the night before, when Julia, Ariel, and I had been out.
The next game was trap ball. This one was my favorite -- not so much because of the game, but because we made a spectacle. (I seemed to do that a lot this past weekend. In a variety of ways.) The game is like tee-ball without a tee. You launch a ball from a wooden trap into the air and try to hit it. If you are in the field, you try to catch the ball when it is hit, or throw it back at the trap. The game started out as one colonial person and three tourists, but we gained small children and adult people as the game progressed.
At one moment, I was enjoying watching a small, blond boy attempt to learn the game. Another tourist walked up to me and asked how old he was. With a start, I realized that she thought he was mine! Which, from appearances makes sense, but still surprised me. This last story is of "day-maker" length, but I'm not quite sure it counts as one.
A Vindication of Fanny Price
[Note: All links from Wiki represent one reading of Austen. Pick up the books for the full story!]
Two smart, single young women, especially two well-read smart, single young women, will always have one entertainment and consolation at their fingertips: Jane Austen. I discovered this during my first few days at the College and it holds true for Shelly and me in Steubenville. She is seeking a Mr. Darcy. I don't have a favorite hero, but I am Eleanor Dashwood. Shelly believes that Austen comes second to the Bible in terms of truth (there may be some exaggeration here; I have not heard those exact words from her) and was not content until she fixed upon the hero right for me. Her choice: Edmund Bertram.
Edmund is (arguably, but this is how I would argue) Austen's most developed hero and a quality young man. However, if he is my perfect match, that would make me Fanny Prince.
Quick literary lesson for those who do not immediately understand the hilarity of that statement. Fanny Price and Edmund Bertram are from Austen's Mansfield Park. Fanny is considered Austen's "problem heroine" because she appears a weaker woman without the feminine wit and strength of personality that characterizes Austen's heroines. Edmund guides and develops Fanny throughout the novel, forming her taste and opinions.
I hope you are laughing now. When I offered this view to Shelly, she contested it, claiming that Fanny is one of Austen's stronger heroines and that I was not doing justice to her moral fiber. So I picked up Mansfield Park once more to reexamine Fanny Price.
I am about to write three words that are rare for me, especially concerning a well-formed opinion: I stand corrected. While Fanny's physical weakness and her timidity make her appear a weak character, I agree with Shelly's points about her moral fiber. Despite her natural meekness and desire to please, she stands up for what is right, even in the face of opposition from those she loves most. Although given the chance to vindicate herself at the expense of others, she chooses delicacy and charity. She bears pain herself, rather than seeing those she loves suffer. She lacks the almost modern edge that attracts smart, single young women nowadays to Austen's heroines; her strength is quiet, gentle, and unimposing. Yet it is strength.
As for Edmund, I can see the point Shelly was trying to make. I don't have to be Fanny Price (thank heavens!) to be suited for a man who will draw out my emotions and those quiet truths I rarely express. Because, yes, in spite of my loud opinionatedness, plenty of those exist.
Two smart, single young women, especially two well-read smart, single young women, will always have one entertainment and consolation at their fingertips: Jane Austen. I discovered this during my first few days at the College and it holds true for Shelly and me in Steubenville. She is seeking a Mr. Darcy. I don't have a favorite hero, but I am Eleanor Dashwood. Shelly believes that Austen comes second to the Bible in terms of truth (there may be some exaggeration here; I have not heard those exact words from her) and was not content until she fixed upon the hero right for me. Her choice: Edmund Bertram.
Edmund is (arguably, but this is how I would argue) Austen's most developed hero and a quality young man. However, if he is my perfect match, that would make me Fanny Prince.
Quick literary lesson for those who do not immediately understand the hilarity of that statement. Fanny Price and Edmund Bertram are from Austen's Mansfield Park. Fanny is considered Austen's "problem heroine" because she appears a weaker woman without the feminine wit and strength of personality that characterizes Austen's heroines. Edmund guides and develops Fanny throughout the novel, forming her taste and opinions.
I hope you are laughing now. When I offered this view to Shelly, she contested it, claiming that Fanny is one of Austen's stronger heroines and that I was not doing justice to her moral fiber. So I picked up Mansfield Park once more to reexamine Fanny Price.
I am about to write three words that are rare for me, especially concerning a well-formed opinion: I stand corrected. While Fanny's physical weakness and her timidity make her appear a weak character, I agree with Shelly's points about her moral fiber. Despite her natural meekness and desire to please, she stands up for what is right, even in the face of opposition from those she loves most. Although given the chance to vindicate herself at the expense of others, she chooses delicacy and charity. She bears pain herself, rather than seeing those she loves suffer. She lacks the almost modern edge that attracts smart, single young women nowadays to Austen's heroines; her strength is quiet, gentle, and unimposing. Yet it is strength.
As for Edmund, I can see the point Shelly was trying to make. I don't have to be Fanny Price (thank heavens!) to be suited for a man who will draw out my emotions and those quiet truths I rarely express. Because, yes, in spite of my loud opinionatedness, plenty of those exist.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Fun with Graphs and Rosaries
"WM Hiker Runner" requested that I discuss this graph from a previous post/CARA. Now that semesters and weddings are over, and since I haven't received coursework in the mail yet, I have time!
The graph summarizes the interaction of Catholics with particular bits of material culture. The Catholics surveyed are divided into two groups: all Catholics and weekly Mass-goers. I found the highest and lowest disparities of particular interest: weekly Mass goers are twice as likely to carry a rosary (there is a 22 percentage point difference). The difference in cross-wearing is smaller: only seven percentage points and nowhere near twice as likely. Mass attendance, of course, is not the cause of the rosary-carrying, but the correlations makes sense. Both are strongly related to a specifically Catholic spiritual identity. Wearing a cross is not necessarily so: it is Christian, but not exclusively Catholic. Along the same lines, crosses are made to be worn, rosaries prayed.
I would love to continue a study like this. Who wears crosses and carries (or wears) rosaries? What is the reasoning? Is it a personal reminder or a way of identifying oneself to others? How does this vary based on the type of material object: rosary, prayer card, saint medal, cross? Maybe someone has already done this study and I just need to find it.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Day-Maker #62
Driving up I-95, I passed a truck on the side of the road, apparently towing a small, elegant carousel.
In Which a Few Heads Turn
At the end of the day Saturday, I was not ready for the day to be over. So still in my bridesmaid dress with flowers in my hair, I set out on a walk down DoG street. Julia joined me and we invited two new friends from the wedding. These friends happened to be a man in a kilt and a guy in an army uniform.
I don't turn heads often and less often notice when I do. But when we walked past a bar with outdoor seating, every head along the sidewalk turned and followed us. Apparently, we were conspicuous.
I don't turn heads often and less often notice when I do. But when we walked past a bar with outdoor seating, every head along the sidewalk turned and followed us. Apparently, we were conspicuous.
In Which LB Is No Longer LB
WARNING: THIS POST IS OF SIGNIFICANTLY MORE INTEREST TO FEMALES
This weekend, Wendy and I headed down to the 'Burg for LB's wedding. The road trip down, although it took all of its two hours, was not nearly long enough for us to catch up on each other's lives. Not even including our adventures seeking the nail salon and the time for manicures. Then we were caught up in weddingness.
The mother of the bride took the bridesmaids out to lunch and then we settled into LB's apartment to create bouquets of sunflowers and daisies. The flower girl and I took on a couple challenges together and made friends while making bouquets. Eventually, however, my new friend left and we had a rehearsal and a rehearsal dinner, during which Wendy and I refused to be separated.
And then there was a wedding day! We got to LB's early for breakfast and preparation. More flowers and hair and make-up and shoes! I found the only pair of ivory heels in Woodbridge earlier this week and was scared for walking in the high and narrow heels. But they were gorgeous and caused shoe envy and I managed to conquer them. Finally, LB dressed. She was an utterly beautiful bride, full of life and joy.
The wedding happened at the CCM Chapel. We could not have ordered a more beautiful day, which made it feel so right to line up the army of bridesmaids outside the Chapel. LB and Ariel (the maid of honor) arrived last: LB was already crying. She alternated between tears and laughter throughout the ceremony. I loved having an excuse to watch her and her boy throughout the Mass, enjoying their joy. Before long, they were exchanging vows and kissing and LB was (technically) no longer LB!
There was a reception with food and dancing and cake and fun and a ton of awesome people, but that was all a fun wind-down from the beauty of the sacrament.
This weekend, Wendy and I headed down to the 'Burg for LB's wedding. The road trip down, although it took all of its two hours, was not nearly long enough for us to catch up on each other's lives. Not even including our adventures seeking the nail salon and the time for manicures. Then we were caught up in weddingness.
The mother of the bride took the bridesmaids out to lunch and then we settled into LB's apartment to create bouquets of sunflowers and daisies. The flower girl and I took on a couple challenges together and made friends while making bouquets. Eventually, however, my new friend left and we had a rehearsal and a rehearsal dinner, during which Wendy and I refused to be separated.
And then there was a wedding day! We got to LB's early for breakfast and preparation. More flowers and hair and make-up and shoes! I found the only pair of ivory heels in Woodbridge earlier this week and was scared for walking in the high and narrow heels. But they were gorgeous and caused shoe envy and I managed to conquer them. Finally, LB dressed. She was an utterly beautiful bride, full of life and joy.
The wedding happened at the CCM Chapel. We could not have ordered a more beautiful day, which made it feel so right to line up the army of bridesmaids outside the Chapel. LB and Ariel (the maid of honor) arrived last: LB was already crying. She alternated between tears and laughter throughout the ceremony. I loved having an excuse to watch her and her boy throughout the Mass, enjoying their joy. Before long, they were exchanging vows and kissing and LB was (technically) no longer LB!
There was a reception with food and dancing and cake and fun and a ton of awesome people, but that was all a fun wind-down from the beauty of the sacrament.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Runners of Steel
We are officially Runners of Steel! Which means we completed the Pittsburgh Half-Marathon! There were seven of us from Franciscan running, the group of us who had been training together plus a couple others. Shelly came to cheer us on, as well as make sure that I didn't die. (For a few weeks I'd been sick and Saturday was particularly bad.) Due to staggered starts, (magnetic strips in our race numbers registered at the start and finish to give us an official time) Tommy More, the other girl training with us, and I all got to run together, but Brother Bear and JP started a good while ahead of us.
We started crowded into metal barriers with 5,000 of our closest friends. As each section ahead of us fed across the starting line, we heard cheers and screams and whistles. Then we started moving -- walking along the street toward a yellow arch that marked the start of the race. A few yards back, the crowd around us started running and cheering, as did we. Then we were crossing the starting line!
The race started off slowly. We dodged people to pull ahead like annoying and dangerous sports cars on a slow-moving highway. We wove our way through walkers and then slow runners until well over half-way through the race. At intervals, bands played, spectator cheered, and volunteers offered us water and Gatorade. If you have never tried, drinking from a cup is hard while you are running. I ended up with more Gatorade on my face and shirt than in my mouth at the first fluid station.
Tommy More kept our time on his phone, so we could monitor as the miles flew by and we knew after the first few that we were on track for our goal. We found ourselves grateful for the hills in our training as we went up the gentle uphills and soared down the downhill. At the last mile, we rounded a corner and started downhill. All descriptions of the end seem cliche and insufficient. But somehow in the rush of adrenaline and screaming in the last .1 mile of the race, I heard Shelly's voice calling out my name! Best cheering squad ever!
We ran with joy across the finish line, no more than 10 seconds apart, and under two hours!
The Borders of Our Lives
Some really fun maps marking out sociological, rather than geographical, borders.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Accomplishments and Other Miscellany
1) I have finished exams! Last night I tried to count the number of pages I have turned in over the past two weeks... and realized that I was right not to be a math major. It was a lot, I promise you.
2) In addition to pages of my own writing, I have turned in upwards of 60-70 library books in the past week. I think the parting anxiety I had as I returned them might be indicative of a problem. It also indicates how much I loved my paper topics. I kind of want to keep writing them.
3) I finished the half marathon! That deserves its own post, but it's also appearing here! I finished in under my goal of two hours, which at one point seemed crazy.
4) In other notes, yesterday I was convinced that a) it was Wednesday; b) the next day was Friday; and c) it was the day to pray the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary. Today when I woke up, I was highly confused to realize that not only were all of these false, but they are all three mutually exclusive statements.
2) In addition to pages of my own writing, I have turned in upwards of 60-70 library books in the past week. I think the parting anxiety I had as I returned them might be indicative of a problem. It also indicates how much I loved my paper topics. I kind of want to keep writing them.
3) I finished the half marathon! That deserves its own post, but it's also appearing here! I finished in under my goal of two hours, which at one point seemed crazy.
4) In other notes, yesterday I was convinced that a) it was Wednesday; b) the next day was Friday; and c) it was the day to pray the Joyful Mysteries of the rosary. Today when I woke up, I was highly confused to realize that not only were all of these false, but they are all three mutually exclusive statements.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
13.1: Coming Up!
I have been contemplating half-marathon updates during the weeks of training, on topics such as running with a group, running with boys, cat-calls and cheerleaders, blessings of weather, long distances, and running rosaries. Other topics or school work caught me instead, but I do want to post one last excited time before the race tomorrow. Yes, I made it through training. Yes, I am running 13.1 miles tomorrow in Pittsburgh! Please pray for me during the hours of 7:30-9:30 tomorrow.
Also, a shout-out to Ana who finished her half-marathon today! I love how my 6 Pack is somehow still connected.
Also, a shout-out to Ana who finished her half-marathon today! I love how my 6 Pack is somehow still connected.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
More Exam-Time Notes
1. There was a rainbow on the way to Mass today. It was a comforting reminder of God's covenant, since my big task of the day was a Scott Hahn final.
2. A feather in my cap: making Dr. Hildebrand laugh during my presentation yesterday. At something that was meant to be absurd, not at my research or presentation skills.
3. I printed a paper only to realize that two of my footnotes were in a different font. I considered just turning it in, but decided to reprint. Why? Not for the professor, not for the grade, but because I have a deep affection for the footnotes in that paper. Is there something wrong with me?
4. I also have a deep affection for library books that are about to come due. And more books than is healthy checked out. If my books on hold come in time, I will have to return something so as not to hit the limit of books checked out.
5. I just got carded at the library. What?!
2. A feather in my cap: making Dr. Hildebrand laugh during my presentation yesterday. At something that was meant to be absurd, not at my research or presentation skills.
3. I printed a paper only to realize that two of my footnotes were in a different font. I considered just turning it in, but decided to reprint. Why? Not for the professor, not for the grade, but because I have a deep affection for the footnotes in that paper. Is there something wrong with me?
4. I also have a deep affection for library books that are about to come due. And more books than is healthy checked out. If my books on hold come in time, I will have to return something so as not to hit the limit of books checked out.
5. I just got carded at the library. What?!
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)