A thought to fill the time until I find some to spare on posting...

Readers may be divided into four classes: 1. Sponges, who absorb all that they read and return it in nearly the same state, only a little dirtied. 2. Sand-glasses, who retain nothing and are content to get through a book for the sake of getting through the time. 3. Strain-bags, who retain merely the dregs of what they read. 4. Mogul diamonds, equally rare and valuable, who profit by what they read, and enable others to profit by it also.

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, poet, critic (1772-1834)

I am going to be yelled in a moment or two, but these are the first moments put together I've had since I've gotten here. Ten minutes ago the livingroom floor was not visible beneath the litter of mattereses and sleeping bags... There is a bit of fog outside, making the breeze just a bit on the chill side. I am not really sure how many of us have decended upon the welcoming home of Dz's parents.
"we're going"

It is raining and I have Bible verses running through my head.
Perhaps it it because we are coming up on the Triduum, but I keep thinking of the verse "...and he went out and wept bitterly into the night..." I've always thought that it should be raining during Peter's repentance, though it says nothing about it raining at that time in the gospels. Perhaps it's all of the comparisons of rain to weeping...
I had an interesting discussion with Toque last night about humanity, sin, and humility. He was making the case that at some point we have to acknowledge that we on our own are not able to do anything but fall. It is simply who and what we are. This is where humility comes in, we have to ask God for the grace not to fall, recognizing our own inability to accomplish anything good. Humility becomes necessary because we are commanded to be "perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect." My thoughts ran more along the lines of the difference between men and women's responses to this. For all the fact that we all fell in Adam, that we are all men sharing the same fallen human nature, the "daughters of Eve" have inherited something peculiar to themselves in the way they view sin, particularly their own. Mother Eve was, to a certain extent, the incentive for Adam to fall, her company, beauty, just she in herself. Women have in a way inherited a sense of guilt on account of this. I think this is the reason women will often see the sins of others as being their own, why they will withdraw in certain situations. They see it as a danger zone of pain, either for others or themselves. I know there was an element of this playing in myself the other night...

They were an interesting group there, collected at the base of the amphitheater. It may well have been the setting for a play of its own, three ladies and two gents discoursing amoung themselves on the random and profound. Walking down the steps, my familiar blew up on an errant breeze and wrapped itself around my heart closer than the lover's arms around my waist. Unconsciously I shivered, while laughing to myself at the wonder of meeting this collection of friends in the empty park.
surprised "Come down and join us."
cheerful " We're giving speeches on random words. Come on it's your turn..."
laughing "It will be fun. Go on, up on the stage."
Voices chiming in, meaning to be welcoming and open, isolated and closed me off. I did not belong in this merry group. Usually I would tell myself that I was being silly and childish, to pay no attention to the familiar twining itself about my heart like a cat about one's legs. This night, though - the moon a low crescent, the stars bright though the light haze in the valley, the trees all around tall and slim, low and round, the laughter, the light- removed all within me with which I ordinarily dismiss my familiar. I gave in. No, I was not of this folk...
As he climbed up to the top of the covering, up amoung the tree branches, I wandered to the top of the amphitheater, stepping on the backs and seats of the long brown rows of bleachers. There now, I can observe and enjoy, listening to their conversations and laughing with my familiar.
called "What will you give for water?"
called in reply "Nothing, for I need it not."
to themselves "Ah the self-sufficient sort...."
I knew then I would not be allowed to remain backstage, in the wings, apart, alone. And sure enough, W came walking up the center aisle.
murmured "Please come down."
whispered "I don't belong here."
laughing softly "I don't either... please come down...for me..."
His voice trailed off. I wouldn't look at him, but I knew his face wore a troubled look, partly sad partly pleading. With a sigh I followed him down the aisle, back toward the collection of people at the foot of the stage.
calling up to the figure perched above "Your turn."
called down "What am I to talk about?"
obvious reply "Talk about her"
I had to laugh. About me?
quipped "Here I'll help- let me get out of sight."
I saw a chance to escape again, climbing on the stage looking up at him as I passed under his hanging feet, feeling far away from him now. I lingered in the shadows of what ought to have been the backstage, listening to him holding forth on peanuts and his roommate.
to me "Your turn."
curious "Mine? I don't think so."
reply "Yes. The word is 'wall'."
leaning back "Then I am the wall and nothing you say can penetrate..."

And so wore away our time in the theater, this scene of the pageant wherein we play in played out and past.

As we walked back through the quiet park, away from the abandoned amphitheater, he asked me what was wrong. He caught the tears I had not let form or fall as they tugged my voice, catching my throat. I was at a loss. How does one describe one's familiar? A daemon? To tell him that it wends its way into my heart in a surer fashion than he, possessing without effort what he desires for his own? That I weary of the struggle with it... No, better to laugh and say nothing is wrong, that I am being silly. But he knows me too well and will not let me be drawn further away from him. I am grateful for his struggle to understand, it gives me strength for the fight.

ACK taxes!!!!!!!!!! Evil evil taxes! In the past I have not minded having to file taxes so very much. It was simple enough, and the refund (when I didn't think about the fact that the refund was actually money that ought not to have been taken from me in the first place) was rather nice to get in the mail. It made you feel like you suddenly had extra money to play with. This year however, it is simply confusing. Too many forms, schedules, instructions...too much stuff to process. Perhaps I ought to go and ask someone for help...

Excerpt from letter written 15 March. Edited for content.

"How possible to love someone so much you ask, love… perhaps it is a way of seeing them… seeing more of what is to be loved in them, more of God in them. As you wondered this, I immediately thought “yes but you love your child even more than this” to a similar effect, how is it possible to love more than this? The answer must be God, and the desire to love Him that is somehow in our nature. I mentioned this in my last letter…as a lover you must first seek Him, completely desiring Him as your love, your only love, satisfied only and alone with and by His love. All other loves will satisfy only when they come through and are offered to Him. Because we are created for Him, it is only His love that will satisfy, and our souls somehow know this. I’ve sought this grace from Him for years now, seeking to find rest and stillness in Him, often failing and returning with tears and new realizations of what love is. "

Random:

~I spent perhaps half an hour this morning tying a friend of mine into a corset. Yes, an corset- one of those things that make the waist of the woman wearing it look impossibly small by a trick of the eye. I came to two conclusions. First, ladies' maids were in fact necessary, because it is impossible to get one of those things on without assistance. (I've always wondered about that...) Second, they don't really make your waist that much smaller, they shift the attention to the bust and hips and give a very definite line from one to the other. Hence the famous "hour-glass figure." They look extreemly uncomfortable to wear, and from what I've heard are also bad for you healthwise (something about damage to intenal organs...). So why is it that I as still curious to see what I would look like in one? *sigh* vanity of vanities...

~Reason #59 to get a computer of one's own: Papers are much easier to write on one's own time and not around the schedule of half a dozen other people.

The due date for the last paper of this year is...now let's see...five days away. I have only the vaguest of ideas of what I am going to do with it. I keep making time for it and something happens, and my efforts are thwarted. I took off from rehearsal this week-end and the Lady Gatekeeper needed the computer for application essays at the same time. So I think, "Ok, write an outline and collect ideas." This being done, and the computer still not available, I wander down to rehearsal, only to leave an hour and a half later to go to my philosophy prof.'s for supper. I am very glad I went, but it did not get anything done on the paper. Tonight, little things eat nearly 2/3's of the time I'd set aside for it...
*sigh* Perhaps I do worry too much about these things. I know I can write enough in four hours. But I do need those four hours, and it would be rather useful to have them all together rather than spread out over five days.
I think I'll wander off tomorrow night. Hmmm what am I doing tomorrow night, oh that's right...maybe I won't be...

On a brighter note, the seniors turned in their theses last night as the cover charge the one, if not the best party of the year here on campus. It began at 11 and lasted 'til 2 from what I've heard. Strange enough, there were few senior to be seen about today...though those who were to be found had something of a glow to them and a certain lightness to their step. It was very good to see. Defenses start in three weeks...the year is winding down. Soon the freshmen will be reading the Republic and then it will really be near the end. Graduation will come and nearly everyone will go. And time will move on...

The Temptations just came on the player, singing My Girl... "I've got sunshine on a cloudy day..." Which is rather fitting at this moment, for it is raining and the sun is shining through the clouds, lighting up the drops as they fall. There must be a rainbow hiding around somewhere.

So now that I have the page sitting open before me, full of potency (wait can something actually be full of "the ability to become something"... *shakes head* sorry, philosophy paper still taking its revenge)
What was I going to talk about... oh yes, peanuts... wonderful things those. Salty, full of good stuff for you, paritcularly the ones who talk...those are especially beneficial because they increase the practice of charity (eg. not tick'ling them to death) and patience (eg letting them continue to full up one's comments with randomness). All in all, they are rather pleasant and tolerably good to eat. The southern ones are particularly nice... so I think I will continue to associate with them.

I think my roommate and next door neighbour will live...it's a good thing too. Things would get so quiet and deadly dull without the two of them... I might even get ahead with my homework (how awful ;-) I have missed them, all they do is sleep (which I seem to recommend in great quantities, being the way to cure all physical evils).

Hmm, I think I am wondering off to the beach...I know I had more to talk about, but it will just have to wait.

I wandered up toward the commons in the pouring rain last night, having just turned in the paper that had been consuming my life essence (ok, so now that it is done I am allowed some exageration...) as I was saying, I wandered up to find the promised jam session. And I did. They were playing in the small room that houses the ping pong table (the accustics are good in there...) I paused for a moment, after I had passed through the door. The small group looked complete, Toque leaning on the table bleeding music from a 3/4 classical guitar, Dz intense and radiating life, seemingly unable to be still for more than a moment, a few other making up the circle. I felt the briefest flash of- not alienation, but something akin. But it was music and I needed the sustinence. We sang 'til just before cerfew, and I walked back to the dorm in the still pouring rain, musing over the eveing with Toque.
I am ambitious for music of my own. Someday I will hold my own place in that circle. But until then, me thinks I will not be with out that twinge of "withoutness" at such gathering...

Remote publishing!! Wireless internet!! No, I have not managed to make the leap into the 21th century. I am simply stealing time on a friend's computer while he is not looking...
So some good news: my paper is nearly finished. After five hours of making myself sit in one place, though surrounded by books and all the music I could want (well, for about 10 hours at least), I got to a point where I could say "yes it is as done as it is going to get without someone else going over it and shredding...uh, er...proofing it." Nah, it is not all that bad (I don't think) and it may even be some good. But I am immensely relieved and I can feel the stress level dropping as I type. There really is no feeling like accomplishment.

The owner of the stolen laptop with the remote internet connection (and sole possessor of all the books and music as well) has returned. I'll get him to proof my paper and perhaps wander around in the rain. The next two hours are all mine, to do with as I please. No paper worries, no homework to speak of...

I am going to wander off now...

"...but if sensation, then also imagination and appetite. For wherever there is sensation, there is also pain and pleasure, and wherever these are, there is necessarily also desire."
Not that I know what Aristotle is actually saying here, but it sounded good and so I thought that I'd share it with y'all. Which rather sums up the state of my philosophy term paper...
Not good...
Believe me, I had every intention of getting my usual three week head start and having it done last weekend and ready for proofing and revision. But somehow all of my time went the way of the prodigal son, without the heartening reassurance of repentance and return home at the end of the story. So now I am looking at a deadline 72 odd hours away (minus class, work, homework, sleeping and eating hours...wait, do I really need those last two? I wonder...).
Not good...
This evening was spent with the Sprit. I wanted to make a quick supper and start on my homework as soon as the occupant of my computer haunt had departed for the evening's activities. The Sprit has not been well (see account for details), so I was going to make her some supper as well. "If we start the movie now, it will be done in time for you to write when Katarina has left," quoth she. Looking at her, all bundled up and still cold, regaling me with stories of her doctor's appointment, and how good everyone has been to her today (note: I had not seen her all day, and she lives next door), how could I possibly say no? And we were going to be done by 7, 7:30 at the outside. So we sat and watched the Dark Crystal (a cult classic well worth seeing at least a dozen times) while I made food on the coffee table and tried to forget about the homework that was not yet done, and the paper that was not yet finished. It was almost made worth the time spent on it by the Sprit's comment at the end, just as the end credits music was beginning to swell, and the hero and his love are standing together..."And it's an even better movie than The Princess Bride because there is no kissing in it!" ...how can you top that one?

so here I sit venting, well over an hour past the time I wanted to be in this same seat, without having gotten anything scholastically significant done. However, I have fed the hungry, and visited the sick, and practiced (some) patience, so perhaps it was not all for a loss...and besides, I do have those 72 odd hours...

How I would love to have the time to go on about the absurdities this campus has witnessed this past week-end, the glories of the sunsets of the past several days, the beauty of the valley in the twilight of yestereve, the hilarity of walking (or perhaps "tripping" would more accurately describe the activity) down the hillside in the dim moonlight after having quaffed a bottle of rather good chardonnay in the most wonderful company in the entire world - but I am simply too hard pressed for time and must needs be off this very minute to attend to a very important something or other...

At the request of my lady, Queenie...

The sound of waves washes over
gentle and even as my breath
hazy light slowly growing
chasing shadows to darkling corners.

~blink~

Thoughts of the day memory of the night
counting hours between the now and time
when my love will take me away
to what or where is unknown, but...

~blink sigh~

A low grey over the hills hints of a chillness in the air
through the door, a breeze brushes my cheek
up the walk past a lamppost
buried in green, buds, and hidden sent.

~blink sigh blink~

Chapel doors of dull brown belie the glories within
new dimness beckons, welcomes silent prayer
small bell rings, eyes raised to the Cross
my daily fast is broken on the Bread of Life

(I do hope this fits the bill...)

Reflections on Ash Wednesday

My mind's eye
wanders across a snowy barren field
seeking the solid shadow we'd left behind.
A grave yard cold somber
lone on the plain with the pines standing guard.
Grey head stones, white piled snow,
they lie alone, so alone with their end.
All end here, with the stone, snow, and tree.
The dust of my frame recognizes its kin
mortality weighs with the silence of years.
Often I return here to this cold shade
Bearing the marks of my ancestral fate and doom
Alone this is my end, the dust and snow.
The Light calls beyond the cold and shade
freeing from the cling and grasp of the dust
A Cross in the road, born on my brow, engraved in my heart
whispers hope of an end beyond the grave.

"Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return"

I've seen W again. After five months of nary a word he appeared in the afternoon light. I wondered at it, the immidiate flush of pleasure at seeing his familiar form, then hearing his voice. Five months, longer if you want to count from our last conversation. Does it matter? I wonder...
I've been wondering much about the nature of friendship. We all ask about love, trying to figure out what it is, why it is. But somehow friendship is lost in the betwixt and between.

"Why are you still my friend?"

Twice now I've been asked, many times I have wondered. With some people I take it forgranted that there is enough common ground, a shared interest that allows for conversation and companionship. With others though, there is nothing and no matter how much I'd like there to be, unless something changes, there will be nothing.
The Sprit and I had a symposium of sorts on friendship last night, lasting long past the time I was supposed to start homework. Love, duty, trust, converstion, time, respect, interest, all of these go into a friendship, but is there something more, something that takes it beyond the sum of these parts? I want to know, perhaps so that I can mend friendships I've broken, or build on friendships that are (hopefully) becoming...

Randomness for the day...

To know how to say what others only know how to think is what makes men poets or sages; and to dare to say what others only dare to think makes men martyrs or reformers - or both.
-Elizabeth Charles, writer (1828-1896)

To my afternoon class

heavy eyes
clouded skies
sleep lingers, nibbles my toes
dances in the corners of my vision

peeled eyes
heavy sighs
sleep stuffed into my pocket
voices now making a bit of sense.

Jeremy Fisher...

Sleep is a great big fish
waiting to swallow me
as I sit fishing on the
pond of knowledge.

And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.
-Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, philosopher(1844-1900)

The moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; and those who are in the shadows of life - the sick, the needy and the handicapped.
-Hubert Horatio Humphrey, US Vice President (1911-1978)

I fear me that our government has failed the first portion of this test, and will all too soon fail the latter portions as well.