Comings and Goings

I am unbelievably excited. My break has started! I am skipping my last class (hehe, I am so bad), and am now waiting for my ride to be done with his classes. I am mostly done packing, and I have cleaned my room. Like, for reals. I know...I didn't really think it would happen either. But, observe the photo evidence to the fact. I also vacuumed (including my roommate's side...but that is an entirely different rant), and even dusted a little. Whenever I clean this much, everyone on my floor has to see it, because it is such a rare event. In fact, they sometimes compare their room's level of messiness to mine (mostly of the time, theirs is less).

But, yes, back to the point, I am very excited for break. Everyone on campus is in various states of burnout, either from killer projects, workload in general, not sleeping, other issues, or a combination of all of these. Personally, I am doing pretty good, although I, like everyone, am very, very ready for a break. I slept a ton during the week prior to Sunday, sleeping no less than seven hours a night, plus a ten-hour weekend, and a nap thrown in there. That's a ton of sleep. But that store of sleep was needed to finish that killer philosophy paper Monday night (I finally finished it with a solid twelve pages at 4 in the morning). And then last night, since I had no homework but had had coffee, felt like the middle of the afternoon, and everyone was hanging out in each other's rooms, talking, watching movies, cleaning, packing, and not even thinging about sleep. And that, my friends, is why dorm life is cool.

Change of gears: It's really interesting to look out the window. My room overlooks the Crowder entrance and parking lot, so I always see/hear everyone coming and going from campus. There are cars lined up and then trading places in the loading zone, taking in stuff and people and then heading off somewhere unknown to me. In a very short time, that will be me. I am really excited to be off campus for awhile. Don't get me wrong. I love campus. But sometimes, it can get stifling, because it is so self-contained, and I just need to breathe a different air.

I heart my Oregon!

Muddling Around in Metaphysics

I have a massive paper due in philosophy class tomorrow morning. I have already resigned myself to being up half the night/all night working on it (although I am pretty proud of the progress I am making so far...nine pages is a decent amount to have done already), so I figured a short excursion into blogdom to clear my head was permissible. And I have been working on this things all day already anyway.
This twelve page paper is about Plato's metaphysics, specifically his theory of the Forms and how they and his dual universe (the visible world that we know, and the world of the Forms) relate. This really is a fascinating topic, although I very quickly become bogged down by all the philosophy words that I have to use over and over again, i.e., 'existence', 'knowledge', 'being', etc. We have gone over a lot of cool topics in class, but for some reason I cannot get this theory of the Forms out of my head. We went over this, what, four weeks ago, and I still think about it fairly often, trying to figure out in my head how it would work. I am really hung up on the idea of labeling, like, how we decide that a thing is a table and then therefore that it is participating in perfect Tableness. What I do not get is why we call it a table and not a platform, or a surface, or something like that. Do we just inherently know that it is supposed to be called a table, or is that just what we have always called it? Or does it even matter what human name we stick to it, because it just participates in a Form anyway?
Another thing, on this same line, that I have issues getting over is the idea of the human Form. Do I, as me, participate in perfect Humanness up there in Form-realm, or in perfect Jessieness? Does each individual have their own Form (thereby calling in the third man argument), or do we all partake of the same Form that is the perfect Human? And then, is it the perfect Bodyness or Soulness, or something else that is doing the participating? If it's the soul, then it would make more sense for each individual to have their own Form, because each soul, I believe, has more that is unique about it than each body does. But still, souls do share things in common with each other, but what is it really that makes up a soul, and how does that relate to what Form it correlates to?
Anyway, some things to think about. That rant is not really what I am writing my paper on, but it is just one of things my mind has been hung up on for the past few weeks and still has been unable to find any kind of satisfactory resolution. Admittedly, that was a very shallow explanation/description, but I have not the time to elaborate (a paper to write, don't ya know). Ask me about it sometime. T'will be fun.

Me, Avoiding What I Should Be Doing...

Word up: I am really not feeling the homework right now. I have a massive philosophy paper (12-15 pages) due on Tuesday that I have barely started (does three sentences written and a couple articles read count?), and then a Old Testament test on Monday that I haven't started studying for yet. Fortunately, I have been sleeping a ton this last week (never less than seven hours a night, plus a nap, plus about ten hours last night), so I will probably be able to successfully pull off a couple late/all-nighters before Tuesday morning. However, I have basically wasted today on sleeping in, Starbucks run, football game, room cleaning/chilling, dinner, and now blogging, so I have really accomplished nothing besides some good floor bonding and a vague idea of paper topic. And I am rapidly running out of excuses to avoid the homework: everyone else is working on their own projects, so I can't pull the 'fellowship-is-more-important' card; I know I have to work, so leaving my room is a blatant waste of time (I prefer my time wasting to be more subtle); I have already checked/updated my facebook, Twitter, both emails, and now the blog, leaving me without any more communication channels; and I have cleaned my room pretty well, leaving me with that excuse either. I am basically stuck. I must begin the homework. I must. Or I could come up with another, better way to waste time. But that would be unproductive.

50 Things (Make One Too)

So...because of the influence the girls on my floor have over my entertainment choices (shout out to Mikayla!), I have recently discovered the wonder and humor that is...Mitchell Davis. If you do not know who Mitchell Davis is, stop reading right now (actually, finish the post, then follow subsequent directions), log onto youtube, and search this kid. Start with the Usher one. You won't regret it. Many quotable moments on my floor have been birthed from Mitchell Davis videos. This guy is great. Anyway, one of his recent videos is him sitting on a bed and listing fifty random things that come to his mind. The video ends with an urge to make your own such video, and I thought, hey, that sounds like fun! Except I will not make a video because I, unlike some, do not spend every waking minute wasting time on youtube (I waste time on facebook. Way better.). So, here lies a list of fifty random things, thoughts, memories, etc. that occur to me. Some of them may have explanations/elaborations, some may not; we will just see how this plays out. Enjoy being let further into my head. 'Cause I know you've been dying to get in there.

1) Reese's peanut butter cups (made more precious in college due to campus-wide ban on peanut butter).
2) Hamlet.
3) My Blackberry (it's red, and basically the only reason I haven't gone insane).
4) Anthologies.
5) Red Starbucks cups. They basically mean that the holiday season is here. The season doesn't start till Starbucks cups go red.
6) Libraries. Freakin' love libraries. Never go more than a week without going to a library.
7) The Twilight books. I know the world is obsessed, but, believe me, they really are great. If you haven't read them, stop reading this post (again, actually finish the post, and then after youtubing Mitchell Davis...), and get your hands on a copy and read. It's not hard to find these books. The most unexpected people have them. Ask around. Again, you won't regret it. And for the record, I liked them (and vampires in general...) BEFORE they were popular. Just so ya know, and I can still uphold my anti-establishment values.
8) Brushing my teeth. It just feels so good.
9) Lucky bamboo.
10) Cotton ball sheep.
11) Moccasin slippers.
12) That diner in Denver, CO, with the writing above the bathroom mirror that said, "You're too good for him!"
13) Quill pens.
14) Owls.
15) Edward Scissorhands.
16) Jones Soda. I am a fan of the Fufu berry.
17) The fact that real food tastes soooo much better when you only eat caf food for months...
18) Recycling. I'm a huge proponent. Do not throw the paper away, people. Put it in the bin. It's not that hard.
19) Wuthering Heights. My favorite book ever.
20) Jack Wisemore. My philosophy teacher. Great guy, awesome teacher. Freakin' hard tests and papers. Drinks a lot of Diet Coke.
21) Being 21. I basically am really excited for this day. Only two years and five months left...
22) Driving. I miss this so much, a lot more than some people, in fact. I loathe not having a car. Hopefully, over the summer I can remedy that issue.
23) Josh Ritter. I just found this man's music, and it is awesome! Listen to the album, The Animal Years. One of the best albums I have ever heard.
24) The Roseland. A venue in Portland where I saw the Anberlin/Mae/Metro Station/Motion City Soundtrack concert with Dad last winter.
25) London Fog (Earl Grey/steamed milk/vanilla yummy drink).
26) Panic! at the Disco. Besides having the best band name ever, these guys are my guilty pleasure.
27) Email.
28) Layne Smith. Kid I knew from CCC, who taught me a lot about how to interact and love people, despite what I thought about their *misguided* beliefs.
29) Friends in general, actually.
30) Coffee. I cannot stress enough the greatness and divine nature of coffee, and how it oftentimes is the only thing that keeps me going.
31) Sonnets. I really love sonnets. They are the greatest paradox of unforgiving structure and rampant emotion. All in ten lines of poetic brilliance.
32) Arrowhead water. I swear this tastes different (i.e., worse) than other bottled waters.
33) Nilla Wafers.
34) Taco Bell.
35) Aviator sunglasses. The only kind I will wear. My dad has been rocking these since they were cool the first time. And now they are cool again. Give a shout out to cyclical history.
36) Gilmore Girls. Everything I aspire to be.
37) Evanescence. Basically my favorite band of all time.
38) Anberlin. Right up there with favorite bands.
39) Black eyeliner.
40) Dictionaries.
41) Black nail polish.
42) Electric blankets.
43) Oswald (my trusty laptop).
44) My writer's handbook. It has saved my butt numerous times. Want to know how to cite the Bible, MLA style? It's gotcha covered.
45) Red pens. I do not care if these make children feel badly about their work, or hurts their self-esteem. I like them.
46) The Oregon coast. No place more beautiful, I am convinced, even when it is all varying shades of grey.
47) Ambient lighting. I much prefer a room to be dark than for the lights to be too harsh/bright.
48) Rome. This city is magical, and having thrown my coin in the Trevi, I know I will going back someday.
49) Chapstick. I am basically addicted.
50) Romeo and Juliet. No matter what anybody says about this being improbable/stupid/morbid/*insert derogatory adjective here*, I think it's beautiful. To quote Mariann Dashwood, "To die for love? What could be more glorious?"

So, thanks for joining the short sojourn into what I think about/like/spend my time with. Go make your own list. It is an interesting excursion into self-awareness.

As Unchanging as Change

It's a beautiful Northwest Saturday. I was plan-less for the morning, so after rising late and missing cafeteria brunch, I determined to walk to Starbucks for afternoon coffee and food. All of my normal walking buddies were either gone, not plan-less, or otherwise occupied, so I sojourned down 108th alone. A heavy sprinkle of rain fell from the clouds, and, although not cold, increased in gravity as I progressed. I reached the Starbucks before the downfall became unpleasant. Ducking inside the shrine of espresso and joy, the lobby was decently occupied, with a short line at the register. I ordered my ideal beverage (grande extra-hot nonfat triple carmel latte), and a spinach wrap, and scanned the chairs for an available, yet desirable, seat. A woman with a yellow legal pad covered in writing rose from one of the twin lounge chairs by the fireplace and walked out, and I meandered over to where she had been, replacing her and trying to make it look as though I hadn't been hoping she would leave the space to my care.
I arranged my drink and food on the small, circular side table, and pulled Through Painted Deserts from my bag. I had about four chapters left to read, and made it my goal to finish the book, in between long and short periods of people-watching. I find that I am fascinated by this activity, especially of the people in coffee shops. There were two old men to my right, sitting to the side of the fireplace, who had newspapers spread out on their knees and would periodically launch into discussions of the times based on the information on the pages. Behind me, baristas shouted out drink titles: "venti Americano", "grande 120 degree vanilla latte", etc., and expectant customers went forward to claim their orders, each beverage a revealing statement of the person's preferences. The man with the triple tall latte either loves coffee, had a long night, or has a long day ahead of him. The woman who ordered three drinks, one of which was a hot chocolate, and another a chai latte, had two little girls with her (they took the seats of the old men). The coffee shop lounge is an ever-rotating base of humanity. The two women chatting about life and love to my left were replaced by a young mother with a child in a stroller; the two-person tables were pushed together to accommodate the group of five adults and toddler who stayed for awhile to enjoy the coffee and to chat among themselves before moving on to some other activity.
I realize that the short time I spend in my chair before the fireplace makes no impression upon anything more infinite than the moment in which I spend there. When I leave, someone with their own story will replace me, and the people surrounding them will also change, and we all become part of the bigger weave of lives, sharing merely moments and knots in the greater thread of the universe. Perhaps I agree with Herodotus, that the only thing that never changes is change itself. Even if next week I sit in that same seat with the same order and the same book, and the same chill song plays over the lounge speakers, it will not be the same experience as the one I had today. The people around me will not be the same, in the same way that I myself will not be the same. You can never cross the same river twice, because everything is always changing.
I stayed there for about an hour, texting occasionally, people-watching even more, and finishing up the last few pages of the book, a memoir perhaps you could call it, in it reading some of the deepest, most real thoughts about God I have ever encountered. It, along with the grey sky, warm flames, and wet sprinkle of rain, send me into pensiveness as I walked back to campus. I was thinking that walking home in the rain just lets you know how very much you are not in control; you can wish (but nothing more permanent) that the sky would be clear, because then the walk would be more comfortable. But more beautiful? Not necessarily. The two concepts are neither mutually inclusive, nor exclusive. You can have one without the other, just as often as they can go together. I guess it all depends on your definition of "comfort", but especially your definition of "beauty". Beauty can be in anything; in the yellow leaves swirling in the newly formed rain puddles, in the paper cup of the delicious triple latte warming my fingers, in the joy that flickers from the flames of the fire. These things are all comfortable as well, but beauty can also be seen in the raindrops dropping from the tree leaves onto my eyelashes, smearing the black makeup. This is not comfortable, but it is beautiful, as the rain paints water patterns down my cheeks, marking me for but a moment with its very nature. The silence that exists between passing vehicles is not comfortable, but it is beautiful, because it forces me to recognize how much noise I clog my life with, unintentionally or otherwise (an uncomfortable thought). So, life is a mixture of beauty and comfort, and of learning to live with both, either, or neither, and of learning how to recognize the presence and absence each. Most importantly, life is about learning how to live, and, as Socrates would say, to live well.