Emotions are confusing.

I think that title is the understatement of the year. I think my mood swings have been more irrational and sudden than I can remember them being for quite some time. Part of this has been the result of a massive attack on my room, sorting out clothes that I no longer wear and papers I no longer need. It's amazing how much stuff I can accumulate over the course of a single year. A single semester, really. So I've been sitting in my room all day, looking at old pictures and re-reading all sorts of things... notes from middle school (some dramatically proclaiming that, "Emily was NEVER mad at you, but so and so said THIS and I don't mean to get involved, BUT..." and some of the more amusing ones from German classes with Shaina), on into the high school memorabilia, from the light and bubbly freshman year notes through the reflective, bittersweet poems from junior and senior year, plus random programs and scribblings from notebooks and folders long forgotten, and finally the little cards and ticket stubs from college, letters to home and five-page papers, all fresh in my memory.

Each item provokes a memory, and each memory holds its own intriguing mix of emotions. One letter in particular, written towards the end of this past spring semester, triggered a wave of sadness unlike anything I've felt in several months. Yet... it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever written. Maybe because it came straight from my heart? Who knows. As I read it, I found myself wishing that more than one person could have seen it, just because it's one of the most genuinely sincere letters I've written in my life. I realize, though, that it's not something others could necessarily understand... relate to it, yes. But of the particulars, there were only a few near enough to understand. I sat and pondered these thoughts for a moment, then folded it back up and placed it in my memory box.

It's odd, though, to think that when I die... all the things I put in that box will either be buried with me, and thus fade into nothingness, or be read and passed on to people that likely won't have any idea about the story behind each item. So maybe that can be my goal for life... gradually chisel down the items in that box until they hold only those items most dear to my heart. And then tell their stories...

The Labyrinth

One of my favorite places to go on our campus is the Labyrinth, over by the river in its own quiet, little stretch of land. The more I walk thorugh it, the more I start to understand its relevance to my life. And not just my daily life, but the entire scope of my existence. It boggles my mind... The Labyrinth, just to clarify, is a large, circular maze, of sorts, paved with stones that lead all the way around the circle several times and end in the center. You can walk through it as quickly or as slowly as you feel inclined, and it's a beautiful place to calm your mind and slow down for a little while.

My roommate Jessica put it best one day when she said, "When you're walking in it, all you can do is focus on the step right in front of you. I tried to look at the whole thing to figure out where I was going, and it made me dizzy." She concluded that it's analagous to everyday life, because all if we try to look at the big picture we become overwhelmed. All we can do is look directly ahead of us, one step at a time, and try to move forward with confidence, trusting that we're following the right path.

I like to think of this when I'm feeling stressed and lost in the chaos of my life, especially the life I lead at school. But lately I've been thinking about the Labyrinth in a much broader sense--I see a connection now between that place and the paths we walk throughout our lives. This thought struck me again a few moments ago, when I decided to clean out my Yahoo! e-mail account, which I've been neglecting for several months. I re-discovered an e-mail from an old friend, a recent friend, a fading friend... who knows what I should call him. A wonderful person, whatever the title, and someone who became one of my best friends last year. Unfortunately, this year I speak of him with the past tense more often than the present, but such is the course of life. So there I sat re-reading his words, words filled with enthusiasm and hope and irony... and suddenly Pink Floyd's classic "Wish You Were Here" came on in a burst of bittersweet nostalgia. (Amazing how God seems to sneak in little snippets of the soundtracks of our lives at just the right moments. Always appropriate, never expected...) In that moment, the filmstrip of my memory rewound to the golden days of last fall, then fastforwarded straight through the frozen moments, ringing laughter, hastily wiped tears, late-night conversations, silent sighs, and countless smiles. Faces and music, fading yet thriving in the back of a mind that's learned how to move on in order to avoid pain. I guess it's like the people who walk across burning coals -- you just need to move swiftly, or you'll get burned. The error lies in the waiting.

I can't afford to wait, or to look back and wonder. When I glance behind me in the Labyrinth, I see a winding course that blends the past and the present and the future all into one large circle of stones, all of them integral on my path. When I glance back at those e-mails, those photos and memories and beginnings and endings all interspersed, I see a winding course that's paved with the faces of those who have been so deeply important to my life and to my very identity. The sheer number of faces blows me away, though some of them stand out more than others. They blend and they fade as I move forward, but I couldn't have made it as far as I have without them. And as I walk, sometimes I circle back in their direction, and they wander back into my memory, or even into my life. I never know what's coming around the corner, or who I'll see again... but all I can do is embrace the gratitude and awe that flood my soul when I think back to how far I've come, even if I can't afford to turn all the way around or stop moving. And as I walk, I keep learning to trust that something beautiful awaits me in the steps ahead. All I can do is surrender my life to the plan that's been set in motion, and steer myself towards my Maker in the center. Who knows which faces I'll see again on my journey, and which new faces will join my circle...

All I know for sure is that, somehow, I'll get there.

But for the grace of God, go I.

(sigh)

All I want to do is sleep. I'm exhausted and don't feel very well, but here I sit, pushing back my bedtime goals on an hourly basis and simultaneously pushing myself to my breaking point. It's a weary cycle.

In interviews they ask you what your greatest fault is, and you have to come up with something the dictionary defines as a flaw, yet something which magically transforms into a positive quality in the mind of the interviewer. My answer to such a question is usually the fact that I'm too hard on myself, and spread myself too thin. If I had to tell the truth now, I would tell them that I'm downright neglectful of myself. I tend to drop everything I'm doing if someone needs to talk, and I often spend too much time trying to socialize and make the world happier and not enough time doing my homework, or doing things that I love, or even things I need sometimes (like sleep). I know this is technically a good thing, because in the end what will matter most is that I've been here for people when they needed. At least, that's my goal. But sometimes...

All I want to do is sleep.

(sigh)

Yay!

Oh Mom, you'll be so pleased...

Check this out! :)

http://sarahsromanholiday.blogspot.com

Halloween Rant

I just don't get it.

Maybe this stems from the fact that, for me, Halloween has always been about having fun, watching scary movies, carving pumpkins, being neighborly, and of course, consuming enough sugar to make any dentist in the world cringe. But apparently, to the rest of the college-age women, college has become a competition to see who can wear the least clothing and still make it through the night without being arrested for indecent exposure.

I've come to dread Halloween weekend here at school. I feel shame and embarrassment for the girls who feel the need to strip themselves of all dignity, put on little 6 inch skirts and bunny ears, and prance around campus every night in search of Halloween parties. This empathy quickly turns to disdain when I hear the aforementioned girls complain about:

1) How cold they are (Maybe if you put on more than just underwear...?)

2) The stereotypes that guys have about the women at our school as "sluts" (Look in the darn mirror...)

I love dressing in up in costumes. CUTE costumes. Costumes that cover the necessary parts of my body and serve a greater purpose than flaunting my sexuality to capture the interest of any passing male. I love passing out candy, and going to Halloween parties, and dancing, and having fun! I love the spirit of Halloween, the way it used to be when we were little... but I'm starting to despise everything that Halloween has come to represent at the college level. Part of me is amazed that I haven't run across an article on this yet, but perhaps I ought to write one for the Opinion section of our school newspaper.

Or maybe this is one issue scratching the surface of a large, deep cavern housing issues that I shouldn't even discuss. I'm speaking of drinking in particular, the appeal of which I've never quite understood... but that's another topic, for another day. I have to go work on Calculus.



(Just for the record, tonight I'm going to be an angel at our Halloween band practice. I've been trying to come up with something creative, but sadly, I have extremely limited resources.)

God bless you all

Marching Band and mayhem

Well, I'm officially a band geek once more, and it's one of the greatest feelings in the world!

This semester might be a little more than I can handle... Band every day for an hour and a half (and basically all weekend once football hits), my Campus Ministry job, random extracurriculars, and, most importantly, 19 credits. Biblical Theology, my first upper level RLST course (lots of work... only 5 people in the class!), Music History (which, the professor proclaimed today, is one of the hardest classes for music MAJORS...), Calculus (I went through Pre-Calc about two years ago...), Philosophy (should be okay... lots of reading), and Italian (to prepare for Rome in the Spring of '07!!) Italian and Calc meet every single day.

I am terrified.

However, I'm trying to approach this semester as one that will be both challenging and enriching, even if it doesn't allow much sleep.

Speaking of... I'm going to bed. More soon! I'll post as I have time. :)

Good Lord, I'm back at school!

:-)

(Update on the way, I promise...)