Didn't see this one coming

In honor of National Candidate's Response Day, otherwise known as May Day, otherwise known as "Mayday" when the first two "holidays" are put together,  I give you my confession, basking in the security of knowing that no college admissions office is aware of the existence of this blog.

nuf said

I think it was Thoreau who said that "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." Good grief, was he right on. No other phrase can adequately describe the spring-of-senior-year experience.

Like the season, senior year comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. First semester, everybody's still coasting on the high of recent college visits while the anticipation of pending acceptances keeps us all hopeful and motivated. This is the time when we are in our annoying glory, patronizing juniors and generally obsessing over college. Constantly busy, but having fun in the meantime. Then February hits like an ugly car crash. You wake up one day, and something seems wrong. It isn't till the school day is half over that you realize what it is. You just don't care anymore. And you can't explain why. Perhaps it was the constant insanity of the past few months, or the tax on your emotions from one-too-many rejections, or you've simply reached your academic breaking point. Whatever it is, you don't have the mental stamina to keep going, nor the desire to do so. This, my friends, is Senioritis, and I am a victim.

I had never heard of the disease until last winter maybe, and blew it off as something the deadbeats who never tried anyways pulled as a last attempt at a plausible excuse and possibly garner some sympathy. I was the nerd of all nerds, who read the Odyssey at barely 13 and blogged about Platonism for fun. I would be impervious. Ah, such youthful naivete. What I didn't realize is that nobody is safe from Senioritis. It will find you.

To most, those infected look like they're just lazy. But is that really the case? Why are all those kids who made the honor roll and got straight-A's for the past 13 years suddenly in the same boat as the class clowns who never gave a second thought to homework?  The former  (and probably the latter, come to think of it) are just as confused as you, their concerned-older-acquaintance are. There is more to this situation than meets the eye. We know we should make an effort to study, that it's important to end the year well, that colleges will be checking up on us, but we are trapped in the clutches of indifference and can't find a way to escape. The graduation date sends mixed emotions of longing and terror. Quiet desperation.

There is only one month of school left. And less than four separating me from Calculus, also known as the class-I-never-imagined-I'd-take-so-never-prepared-for. Those darn honors programs. This post itself is an amazing example of what it's about. I should be fervently memorizing my pre-calc textbook, but instead I'm blogging about not doing it. I feel the panic setting in as I write this. (see chart above)

Off to make myself get through a lesson or two.

Succumbing to the pressure

Somewhere after stubbornly listening to everyone I know command me to read this Hunger Games series and my (exasperated?) friend Maddie resorting to personally putting the first book in my hands, I found I had broken the cardinal rule of teen self-help books and caved into the peer pressure. Yes, my reader(s), I, the queen of Brit Lit Snobbery, have read The Hunger Games trilogy.

What to say? What to say?

Well, first of all, being the aforesaid Brit lit snob, I am a confirmed hater of dystopian fiction. "Hate" may actually be too tame of a word. My society has enough problems of its own; why should I get wrapped up in some novel whose setting is the bleakest and most depressing the author could come up with? Whenever I finish one of those books, I walk around in a gloomy existential fog for a few days. So imagine my surprise when I realized that not only was my psychological equilibrium intact as I read The Hunger Games, I was actually enjoying it. It has a little bit of everything - adventure, insight, romance, etc. I felt my elementary school self  (the one that totally geeked out while reading The Hobbit) resurfacing as I watched Katniss survive in the arena. But - not going to lie here - I also loved all the girly sections when Cinna would show up with one of those amazing dresses Katniss got to wear for interviews and such. (ahh!)

I like how Katniss isn't the cliche warrior-woman heroine - she's strong, but still a girl. Yeah, she can hunt and butcher with the best of them, but an Amazon she is not. As the series progresses, her vulnerability becomes more apparent instead of less so, which, while not exactly the most inspirational outcome, is the most realistic when you take into account all the things she goes through. I also didn't mind her constant wavering between Gale and Peeta, maybe because I could understand her relationship with the former, at least in the first book. She's 16, and is still pretty naive about the guys, so of course she's not going to know how to react when the two in her life decide to fall in love with her. And it was fun following her reasoning throughout the series - getting to see Katniss think things through (and not having all the answers) kept her down to earth.


The plot was pretty good too. I'll confess, I spent the first book smugly guessing what was going to happen next (and was right in my prediction of Rue's death - come on, you knew it had to happen!), but overall was impressed by some of the twists and turns I encountered. I can understand why some dislike how Collins sent Katniss and Peeta back in the Games in Catching Fire, as it did seem a bit of a repeat of the first book, sans the novelty; however, I think it was the necessary spark to get the revolution going. I guess my biggest problem with the plot is in Mockingjay. The ending seemed a bit rushed - you can't really tie up 3 books' worth of loose ends in 5 pages. And I don't like Collins' use of Peeta's character in it. In the preceding books, with all the references to his rhetorical abilities, he seemed destined to be the one who would rally the troops in the inevitable rebellion. Instead, he spends the first half imprisoned offstage, and the second recovering from psychological trauma. Lame.

Speaking of Peeta..........oh my. I'll just admit it right now. I have caught Peeta fever. Peeps, he is up there with Edward Ferrars and the Student in the Canterbury Tales. Yeah. I'm going to risk sounding like a fangirl here, but I really was defenseless against his wittiness....and kindness.....and loyalty. I was totally crushing on him after he pretty much brought down the Capitol during that  interview with Caesar Flickerman in Catching Fire. The sad thing is, convinced that such a character is too good to survive, I literally spent the entire time reading the series devising scores of random possible deaths for him. It was only when I hit the last 5 pages that I came to a screeching halt and finally remembered to exhale.

ANYWAYS, I could not write a post about the trilogy without mentioning how I love all the classical imagery and allusions to be found in it! Half the characters have Roman names (Plutarch, Caesar, Seneca, Cinna, Cato....), which makes me want to whip out my history books and see if there's a connection between the characters and the people they were named after. Then there's the fact that the series is based on the famous Greek myth of Theseus and the Labyrinth. And how the Games are inspired by the gladiatorial competitions. As I read all the parts taking place in the Capitol, I felt like I had entered a futuristic Roman Empire.

I was pleasantly surprised at how thought-provoking these books were, aside from the obvious kids-shouldn't-kill-eachother message. Collins definitely has a lot to say about the culture we live in, throwing in a rather preachy reference or two to Panem's predecessor. I'm convinced the Capitol was inspired by California (blame it on my Midwest upbringing). There are the ethical dilemmas which made me ask myself what I would do in such a situation, which all center around - how do you preserve your humanity in a place like the arena?

So, in the end, I guess people are right - the series is one that anybody would like reading. Even British Literature supremacists.

Beware.....

"'The Ides of March are come.'

'Ay, Caesar, but not gone.'"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

My friend posted this on FB yesterday. PERFECT.

On the Church

In many ways, your church is what you make of it. I think a lot of people's frustrations with their own churches in the end come down to problems within themselves. The 5th grade me is the perfect example. 

If you had asked me how I liked my new church at the time, I would have given you the mother of all laundry lists of things I despised about the place - everything from the lack of potential for friends to having to endure the longest, most boring sermons imaginable. I longed for the good old days - my old church, you see, was hip. The kids had their own service, complete with a hilarious pastor and fun activities. My many friends and I would use the time our parents spent talking involved in a bunch of random, rather incriminating adventures around the building (the danger of getting caught made it all the more fun). And in the services, everything was cool - trendy songs, practical sermons, short prayers....you get the idea. 

My point in mentioning all this is to say that this church had set a precedent in my mind. As I sat grumbling about how geeky it is to go to a church with pews, it didn't occur to me that church could be about more than I had previously believed.

Many times there are those who have a legitimate grievance with their church. The doctrine could be wacky or a leader may have fallen into gross sin. But as I mentioned before, I think a lot of the other issues people have are really just their own. At 10, I didn't understand the fact that the purpose of church is first to worship God. There was nothing wrong with my new church - it was my priorities that were off. Church is not a dating service. It is not a community center. It is not a social activism club. While there are many people who do meet a spouse and make friends at church, those things are not its primary purpose. Church is here to focus us on God, not ourselves.

There's also the person who doesn't understand how the church works. An obvious example is the recluse who complains that they never get any fellowship. If there's any law I've learned about churchmanship it's this: What you get from a church is exactly the same as what you give to it. Come two times a month and leave in time for the football game, and yeah, people aren't going to remember your name. If you skip the prayer meeting, don't be surprised when you feel like you're out of the loop. And if you've always wanted to have close relationships like those in the "inner core," pay attention to their habits - they're the ones who come to the church when it's empty and do the thankless jobs that you've probably never even thought of. They're there for every service, and as a result, they've lived their lives with one another. 

Speaking from my own experience, I think we tend to lose sight of our "first love" as John put it in Revelation, and thus start to build a lot of unrealistic and selfish expectations about what the church should be. When we are constantly being reminded of what God has done for us, we'll consider church the highlight of our week, because there we worship Him. When we start to neglect Him, other things begin to be more important to us, and we expect them to show up at church. That's when you start to see Jane Austen Bible Studies and blogs devoted to "pastor fashion." (No, I'm not even kidding.)

So I guess what I'm saying is anything worth having is worth working for. (And make sure it's worth having.)

How sweet and awful is the place

With Christ within the doors,

While everlasting love displays

The choicest of her stores.

Not technically a repost

I was having a hard day today, thinking about my family's situation with my dad's illness. And then I found this old quote I posted from 2009:

Let us not be greatly discouraged at the many tribulations, difficulties and disappointments which lie in the path which leads to glory. Our Lord has plainly told us, that "in this world, you will have many trials and sorrows." Yet He has also made a suitable provision for every case we can meet with; and is Himself always near to those who call upon Him--as a sure refuge, an almighty strength, a never-failing, ever-present help in every time of trouble!

Jesus Himself was a man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief for our sakes. He drank the whole cup of unmixed wrath for us! Shall we then refuse to taste a sip of the cup of affliction at His appointment; especially when His wisdom and His love prepare it for us--and He proportions every circumstance to our strength; when He puts it into our hands, not in anger--but in tender mercy--to do us good, to bring us near to Himself; and when He sweetens every bitter sip with those comforts which none but He can give?

John Newton

Powerful words. "He drank the whole cup of unmixed wrath for us! Shall we then refuse to taste a sip of the cup of affliction at His appointment?"

Puts things in perspective.

Hello, 2012

When mom is gone for the week, it is the perfect opportunity for pets
to develop their taste for eau de toilette.

To  quell any fears that I am fast becoming the crazy cat lady who posts pictures of her "children" on her blog, why don't we start this post with a little chat about the presidential election? I read somewhere that in the last three years, Obama has spent more money than all the previous presidents combined. I don't care whether you're a Democrat or Republican or independent or whatever, that kind of thing simply shouldn't go on. The most charitable explanation I can think of for this behavior is a nasty case of naivete. And when thinking of the type of person that ought to be ruling a country, "naive" is usually not an adjective that comes to mind. So who are our alternatives?

• Gingrich. 'nuff said.
• Santorum. Too big government.
• Paul. This kind of thing is responsible for making me lean libertarian, but I can't shake the feeling that he is a little too - there's that word again! - naive about Islam in the Middle East.
• Romney. Romneycare!

Notice the predicament. I'm that over-eager, first-time voter who is more than ready to take advantage of her constitutional right, but there is nobody I feel quite comfortable voting for. What am I to do? (queue violin music)

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Anyways, tomorrow it will be exactly three months until I am done with high school........forever. In honor of this, I would like to make a few remarks about seniors. This year, as I have been forced to get a life gotten a job, and in my own observations amongst my friends, I have come to the conclusion that we are unable to talk about anything but college. We compare ACT/SAT test scores, memorize the Best Colleges in America lists, weigh the pros and cons of different majors, become experts on the FAFSA, and relentlessly hit up everybody around us for letters of recommendation. I'm actually having a hard time remembering what I used to talk about with people. I've never come across a demographic that was so marvelously one-track-minded. It's like we all wander around in a trance chanting mantras like "Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Dartmouth, Columbia, Cornell....." over and over and over again. But I'm not complaining; it's actually improved my social life - I'm naturally a rather reserved person, but now I have endless stores of things to talk about whenever I meet someone new. Fascinating stuff.

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This year, I've been in an AP Western Civilization class that meets in a homeschooling family's home around here. The teacher is awesome - after being there 10 minutes, you know that he is passionate about what he's teaching. I always make sure I have a notebook and pen with me, because without fail, he ends up saying something hilarious each class (the best part is that it's not always intentional).

Several weeks ago, we were on the French Revolution. In the middle of talking about the Tennis Court Oath, he exclaims, "It was like  Occupy the tennis court!"

BEST CLASS EVER.

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I have already mentioned my new-found love for P.G. Wodehouse here, but I'm afraid I will have to do so again. Anybody who can write a description like this will have my allegiance forever:

"How it happened, I couldn't tell you to this day, but I once got engaged to his daughter, Honoria, a ghastly dynamic exhibit who read Nietzsche and had a laugh like waves breaking on a stern and rock-bound coast. The fixture was scratched owing to events occuring which convinced the old boy that I was off my napper; and since then he has always had my name at the top of the list of 'Loonies I have Lunched With.'"

-----

Now, if you'll excuse me. Harvard, Princeton, Yale.......

Long day

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And has shed his own blood for my soul.

My sin—O the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part, but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more;
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend;
"Even so"—it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford

Goodbye, 2011

O Lord,
Length of days does not profit me
except the days are passed in Thy presence,
in Thy service, to Thy glory.
Give me a grace that precedes, follows, guides,
sustains, sanctifies, aids every hour,
that I may not be one moment apart from Thee,
but may rely on Thy Spirit
to supply every thought,
speak in every word,
direct every step,
prosper every work,
build up every mote of faith,
and give me a desire
to show forth Thy praise;
testify Thy love,
advance Thy kingdom.

I launch my bark on the unknown waters of this year,
with Thee, O Father as my harbour,
Thee, O Son, at my helm,
Thee O Holy Spirit, filling my sails.
Guide me to heaven with my loins girt,
my lamp burning,
my ear open to Thy calls,
my heart full of love,
my soul free.

Give me Thy grace to sanctify me,
Thy comforts to cheer,
Thy wisdom to teach,
Thy right hand to guide,
Thy counsel to instruct,
Thy law to judge,
Thy presence to stabilize.
May Thy fear by my awe,
Thy triumphs my joy.

How's that for business?

Highlighting America's pragmatism from the beginning:

The first American painters were generally self-taught portrait or sign painters. Their work was flat, sharply outlined, and lacking in focal point. Portraiture was, not surprisingly, the most sought-after art form, since politics stressed respect for the individual. Itinerant limners, as early painters were called, painted faceless single or group portraits in the winter and, in spring, sought customers and filled in the blanks.

(The Annotated Mona Lisa p. 72)

Oh, the possibilities for today. Haha.