MiTunes 11 – My Soul Song

This song is my cure-all.  No matter how I am feeling – stressed, worried, lonely, embarrassed, elated, proud, loved – it speaks to me where few songs can reach.  I hear God speak when this song plays. It’s my soul song.

Scruple the Third

THE PROFESSOR

The professor’s skin was as black as his felt jacket: his hair like the dusting of snow crowning his felt cap. His thin gold rims glinted, as did the aging whites of his eyes and the onyx irises.  His blue vest bulged a little, but his fingers were nimble and pale on the under-sides.  The fingers reached for the unengaged pencil on his pupil’s notepad. 

The professor’s accent was Kenyan: his plosives the product of full lips, and the rolled “r”s pronounced by a reclusive and raspberry pink tongue.  The full lips began,

“You and I, are like this pencil.”  He said.  Perhaps his priesthood preordained his many timely pauses during college lectures. “And the pencil,” he said, “has four points.”

“Point one, pencil:” he regarded the little machine with gravitas, “is that your goodness, is within you.”  The professor looked up.  “Your goodness is, within you.”  The thinking silences rivaled the mute snow. The professor critically regarded the pencil.

“Point two, pencil, is that you can do nothing,” this word he whispered, “unless you are in the hands of someone else.” A pause.

“Point three, pencil, is that you must be sharpened and re-sharpened many many times in your life.” The professor revealed straight rows of teeth, “Are you ready to be sharpened?” He questioned.

A pause. Again to the pencil, and with satisfaction, he said, “Point four, pencil. Is that you must always leave a mark.”

A Practice in Perseverance

Upon completing my first day of second-semester classes (which consisted of just short of two hours of class time), I find myself yearning for my boyfriend, a family dinner, a game of euchre with my parents, some comfy clothes, and a movie snuggled up on the couch.  Not a campus couch. A home couch. 

It is all-too convenient as a college student to lose hope (melt down and completely despair) when faced with another 16 weeks of…well, college. But I refuse to give in.  Thus, I honor my plucky British compatriots by this poster, to remind myself (in all seriousness) that: life goes on.  It is beautiful and worthwhile.  It is meant to be seized and experienced and respected.  And it is never as bad as it seems.  Even during finals. And the Spokane snow.

MiTunes 10

 

I Am Resolved

Here follows an account of my New Year’s Resolutions.  The priest at mass today told us to choose ONE resolution (it’s a pity I can’t do his Spanish accent justice via keyboard).  Well, I will now (respectfully) ignore his advice.  I’m 20 years old: I officially have less than a year until I traverse the dateline into adulthood.  This year, I want to attempt to set up some habits that will serve me well as I enter the world of the Big Folk.  So here I go:

 

  Mind:

• Read four books (namely, the Lord of the Rings, and a spiritual book)
• Make (and STICK to) a budget

Body:

• Gym twice a week
• Starbucks: tall drinks only, twice a week.  If I must camp out studying, then tea only.

Spirit (Ambitious, but if one category should be, it is this one):

• Daily mass once a week
• Rosary once a week
• Write in journal once a week
• Confession once every two months
• Read the aforementioned spiritual book (top candidates are a biography of Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati or The Screwtape Letters)
• Regis Examen before bed each night

Habits:

• Dress up once a week
• Wait two seconds before answering questions (especially the dreaded, “Hey! How are you?”), and two seconds after someone has finished talking

Live every day as if it was your first, last, and only.  Happy New Year.