A Create-Your-Own Adventure: History of Rome style

Happy LDOC.

____________________________________________________

It's the first day of classes of the new semester. Bookless, clueless, but with two new 3 ring binders, you walk from your dorm to your first class of the day, wonderfully starting at 11 AM. You wonder what you're going to do with your mornings as you pull your coat closer, trying to avoid the biting winter wind. You fully intend to sleep in until 10:30 every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but perhaps something will inspire you to get up before then.

You make it to the lecture hall, a few minutes early because you had the building confused with another one and had no idea where the classroom actually was. You wait as the class before you files slowly out and smile and wave at a high school friend who is planning on dropping math logic. You exchange a couple of witty comments about the math department and the varying types of people in classes as you both swim through the sea of students in opposite directions. Upon entering the lecture hall, you sit down on the right side of the room. Your personality is such that you pick your seat carefully- you fully intend to sit in the same seat all semester. Not too near the front, not too near the back, against the wall so you're not blocking someone else who might come in late. You settle in, readjusting a few times because your back is protesting your backpack and really, existence. So the semester begins.

Two days later, armed with a syllabus and a better idea of the people in the class, you arrive a few minutes early to reclaim your seat. You see a friend of yours, one with whom you could sit, who would keep you focused, generally on task, and who would ensure that you'd come to class, since this class has an attendance requirement. You:

(a) wave to your friend and sit a row behind her, since she's already got a group she's sitting with. You have to move seats, but you figure it's worth the risk. Continue reading at Roman numeral I.

(b) wave to your friend but sit in your usual seat (you're much more comfortable there) and plan to just have several study sessions with your friend. You proceed to stay there the rest of the semester, mindlessly passing the attendance sheet to the people around you and Facebooking, with a slightly detrimental effect on your grade and a slightly improved social life. Fin.

(c) studiously look down, giving yourself time to think over the situation. By the time you look up, the seats around your friend are filled and you must remain where you are. You sigh and promise yourself you'll try again later. Continue reading at Roman numeral II.

________________________________________________________

I. Your friend's friends are a little weird, maybe because you've just met them and they have absolutely no interest in knowing you. One of them talks incessantly about the Romans she knows, from Scipio to Pompey, and you're a little intimidated because the only Roman you know is Caesar. Other than that, you've got Hannibal, and he's Carthaginian. You're not really a fan of sitting beside them, but give it another day. At the end of that day, you:

(d) decide it's not really for you. Continue reading at choice (b) above.

(e) suck it up and sit there for the rest of the semester, make a couple new Facebook friends and have a good time studying for the midterms and finals, not to mention getting a great resource for proof-reading and bouncing ideas off of. All in all, not a bad way to spend the semester- you come to class and you have a new friend group for your next-to-next-to last semester of classes. Fin.

(f) really intend to sit with them the next day, but aren't disappointed that you're a bit late. Continue reading at III.

_______________________________________________

II. You don't really try again later. In slight despair and with a lack of self-confidence, you start skipping class. Eventually, around the time that Scipio is mentioned for the first time, you decide that you don't really care about the Romans and drop the class. You plan on taking History of Sea Power the next semester. It fills the same requirement and has less papers. Fin.

_________________________________________________

III. You run into class late. You've overslept because you have a Quantum Mechanics problem set due at 2 and you promised yourself that you wouldn't be working on homework for another class during this class so you stayed up until 6 working on it and "took a nap" that lasted until 10:50. You're still in your pajamas but you make it to class just as the professor starts talking. The seats around your friend are all taken. You:

(g) find a seat on the same side of the room, noting with a quiet despair that it's completely different than the place you picked for yourself at the beginning of the semester. You're so deep in sadness that you don't ask if you can sit in the empty seat, you just flop down. Continue reading at IV.

(h) whisper loudly to the boy who's sitting two seats down if the seat beside him is taken. He says no and you sit down, trying to minimize the sounds of pulling out your now slightly used notebooks. Looking slightly harassed, you try to pay attention but end up zoning out for most of the class and asking your friend, who you intend to sit with again. You go back to sitting with your friend, despite your earlier misgivings. Continue reading at (e) above.

(i) whisper loudly to the boy who's sitting two seats down if the seat beside him is taken. He says no and your sit down, making no effort stop disturbing people. He looks over, slightly annoyed and you shoot an apologetic look back, while noticing that he's vaguely attractive. You smile at him and he smiles back. Continue reading at XI below.

_________________________________________________

IV. The same thing happens several classes in a row- you run in a little late and ask if the seat's taken, but get better at paying attention in class. You're actually a little fascinated by the Romans you're learning about, and are starting to do better on the papers. You're a little disgusted by proscriptions of Sulla, but admire him for trying to restore the empire. You slowly loose respect for Marius, though you're entranced by his name, being the same as your microwave and the character from Les Miserables, who you don't really like anyway because he should have picked Eponine. One day, you show up to class a little earlier (you learned how to do your homework before the night before) and you:

(k*) ask if the seat's taken as you have all the times before this. You continue in your routine and eventually start coming to class a few minutes earlier so you don't have to sign the attendance sheet at the end of class. You write pretty decent papers and have a good semester, feeling confident about your midterms and finals despite not really having anyone to study with. Fin.

(l) ask if the seat's taken as you have all the times before this. You're in a particularly social mood, though, and notice that you've been asking the same boy for these past few weeks if the seat's taken. It never is. You muse silently on this fact and show up early to class the next class. Continue reading at (k).

(m) ask if the seat's taken as you have all the times before this. You're in a particularly social mood, though, and notice that you've been asking the same boy for these past few weeks if the seat's taken. It never is. You strike up a conversation with the boy, asking for verification of these facts. He smiles and says that yes, you're pretty consistent. You laugh it off and listen to the now starting lecture, smiling and thanking the boy when he hands you the attendance sheet with the page that he has just initialed facing up. Continue reading at V.

_________________________________________________

V. Several weeks go by with this routine. The Republic dies (gee, thanks, Julius) and some great Shakespeare happens. One day, back when Cicero is still spending his days bad mouthing Antony, you have to miss class because your back is acting up again. It's gotten worse- either you have to choose between being in pain or being able to pay attention and you really can't sit for more than half an hour, at absolute best. On top of that, you lifted some cases yesterday and it was a terrible plan. You can't walk down the hall, much less make it to class. The next day, though, you're doing better and though you wince excessively, you go out to dinner with your roommate and her friend. It beats watching a basketball team screw up.

Surprisingly, you see History of Rome guy, as you've dubbed him among your friends, sitting at the bar. You:

(n) look down and pay attention to your friend's conversation (inconveniently, she's seen a friend of hers and is now engaged in a discussion that you have nothing to do with) and studiously avoid looking over at him. You succeed and finish out dinner regretting the fact that the game is playing on a TV right above where HoRg is sitting. Continue reading at (l).

(o) look down and pay attention to your friend's conversation (inconveniently, she's seen a friend of hers and is now engaged in a discussion that you have nothing to do with) and studiously avoid looking over at him. It's a failure, though, because he says hey and mentions that he didn't see you in class the other day. You:

(oi) smile and explain about your back quickly, finishing your order and saying that you'll see him at the next class before fleeing to a table, slightly embarrassed and not sure why. Continue reading at (n).

(oii) smile and explain about your back in some detail. He mentions something about those little handicapped golf carts and you smile and agree and say that you'll see him in class. You fail to listen to your roommate's conversation at dinner because you're looking at the bar but only slightly regretting that the TV is playing the game right above where HoRg is sitting. Continue reading at VII.

(oiii) smile and choose not to say a word about your back, instead fabricating on the spot a wonderful story about something exciting that has not happened in your life. He smiles and doesn't really believe you, but you've started a good conversation. You ditch your roommate, who is much more interest in conversation with her friends and sit at the bar for the rest of dinner. Continue reading at XI.

___________________________________________

VII. You muse to your friends about HoRg but nothing really comes of it. You start saying hey to him at the beginning of class instead of joking around about the seat being open. You notice that he keeps on passing the attendance sheet over to you with the page he just initialed facing up. You can't find a good way to look without being conspicuous so you:

(p) fail to ascertain what his name is. Continue reading at VIII.

(q) ask him what his name is and he tells you. You exchange names and laugh that it's taken this long for you two to introduce yourselves. After class, he asks if you're going anywhere for lunch. You ditch the plans you have and agree. Continue reading at XI.

__________________________________________

VIII. You've made it almost all the way through the semester by talking about the class before class starts. You mostly say that you don't really read the book, that the lectures are pretty much the same as the book and that one of the TAs is super chill (yours) and one is a pretty terrible and biased grader (his). On the next to last day of class, you:

(r) wear a T-shirt. Nothing much happens. Continue reading at IX.

(s) wear a low cut shirt (boobquake day!) and:

(si) spend the entire class self-consciously worrying about the choice and what HoRg is thinking about it. You avoid looking at him and hurry out at the end of class. You go home and change. Continue reading at X.

(sii) feel very manipulative and hope he puts no store in it. You don't really worry about it, though. The whole purpose of boobquake day is prove that, contrary to a recently made statement, low-cut shirts do not cause earthquakes by increasing lust, because we all know that men lust enough without the aid of low-cut shirts. Continue reading at IX.

__________________________________________________

IX. It's the last day of classes, holler praise. You wake up a little late, happy because you've finally understood a problem set for quantum. You:

(t) put on some make-up because you're convinced that today is going to be the day and whatever that means, you want to look lovely for it. Not a lot of make-up. That requires effort. Just some. You head out the door in time to be there a few minutes early. Continue reading at X.

(u) stay in bed because you understand everything and have already read the chapter (yeah, right). Why go to more classes than you have to? You sit in the back for the exam and call the class a success. Fin.

(v) put on some make-up because you're convinced that today is going to be the day. As you leave your room, though, a friend from down the hall has been locked out of her room. You:

(vi) help her out. After all, what are friends for? You didn't want to be on time for class anyway. You go in and sit down and make some small talk, hurrying out after class. Continue reading at XII.

(vii) say that you're running off the class and apologize and hope it gets better. You head out the door and get to class just a few minutes early. Continue reading at X.

__________________________________________________

X. You enjoy learning about the end of the empire, feel prepared for the exam and come back on the last day of class on time, listening to the professor, laughing at his random, probably not that funny, jokes. You give the class a great evaluation. At the end of class you:

(w) introduce yourself. The two of you laugh that you've never done this before and he asks if you want to go out to lunch. You say yes. Continue reading at XI.

(x) take too long filling out your evaluation. Continue reading at XII.

_____________________________________________________

XI. You really start to like this guy and large amounts of time walking around and humming, to the point that one of your friends asks you who he is and you say, "No one." "And yet it is hum-worthy? You know, it's none of my business. I'm just happy that you're happy about something other than quarks... Not bad, with the quarks?" "Excellent." Continue reading... or not, because at that point in time, you've got a life to live. Messy and complicated and beautiful, so go live it.

_____________________________________________________

XII. You go out to lunch with some friends who convince you that you should look up HoRg's name (you think it starts with a D or maybe a B...) on the blackboard roster and invite him to a party that night. You:

(y) do. He agrees. Continue reading at XI.

(z) don't. Life goes on. You find someone else to hum about. Tomorrow.

This Is My Father's World

I have friends who classify other friends of my with a single adjective on the front of their name, like, say, "Happy Pam". Well, I'd call this "Happy Hymn." We sang it this morning and it makes my heart happy, so I figured I'd share it with you.

This is my Father's world,
and to my listening ears
all nature sings, and round me rings
the music of the spheres.
This is my Father's world:
I rest me in the thought
of rocks and trees, of skies and seas;
his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world,
the birds their carols raise,
the morning light, the lily white,
declare their maker's praise.
This is my Father's world:
he shines in all that's fair;
in the rustling grass I hear him pass;
he speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father's world.
O let me ne'er forget
that though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King; let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let the earth be glad!

-Maltbie D. Babcock

Missing Meteors

It's funny how easily conversation in college turns to what you're going to do. I'm going to fail this exam. This summer, I'm going to New York, on a mission trip, to work, to save, to party, to sleep, to visit grad schools. Next year, I'm going to apply to grad schools, to have an easy semester, to have a terrible semester, to do better, to focus more on my studies, to audition, to not audition, to study abroad, to stay in Chapel Hill, to be a leader, to be a follower. After college, I'm going to get married (!), go to med school, grad school, law school, to teach, to be unemployed, to move back in with my parents, to take a year off. To do what?

Now, this isn't a post about doing something now, though it is another tragedy of our time that so much potential is locked away in institutions and dowsed with alcohol while the world outside suffers and we learn how to think, make mistakes, describe the Hydrogen atom mathematically, start a business, get inside people's heads, understand the meaning of the actions of various Romans over the course of the Republic and Empire. It's a wonderful mixed bag that you get in college, but for a good example of someone rightly fed up with the negatives of this bag and willing to be something different, I recommend the words of this friend. For the wonderful and blessing thoughts of a good friend doing what she has been called to do, prayerfully, lovingly and in full remembrance of the awesomeness of God, I recommend her words.

I had a good conversation with a friend about what I wanted to do. It came out of talking about classes and, in particular, my teaching class. Guys, I don't want to teach physics. I could go the whole "I hate kids" route, but that would be another lie. I go the "I hate high school route" but that wouldn't be any more true. I don't have an aversion to teaching and I'd love having my own classroom, but it would be my classroom. It wouldn't belong to the kids and I wouldn't be focused on the people I was teaching. I would be teaching. I would hop into their lives as necessary and I would take advantage of every situation to be a positive influence, but it would be me, teaching. Does that make any kind of sense? I'd go home at the end of the day full of myself and miserable.

Now, I could make a conscious effort not to do that, but I fear that I would end up being that anyway because I'm not called to teach high school. You know that fear that you're made for something bigger? Now, there is nothing bigger than teaching, than changing a life, than making a generation prepared to meet the world around them, so I should probably change bigger to different. Can I get an amen from someone who has felt the Spirit move but has been entirely unsure of the direction that it's moving in? We are blessed, we are anointed... to do what?

Same good conversation, we talked about what it's like to be "called". Oh. my. lanta. Being called. What does that even mean? (I feel like a Juno reference is inappropriate here... yeah, you know what I'm talking about.) Like, a mystical voice called you out of heaven and said, "Insert name here, I call you stop world hunger because you've finally all gotten the resources and it disgusts Me to see that you waste so much food without a thought to millions of my children who are starving." Does that happen?

Because, for me, being called is this sinking feeling in my stomach that comes from disobedience (or at least the intention of disobedience). I think about things I said I'd never be, things that I know that I could be, things that I think that I should be, and my stomach just sinks because I know what I'm supposed to do and I don't want to do it. I'm supposed to actually listen to God and obey what He says. I'm supposed to put myself aside. I'm supposed to follow Him anywhere, and in the Easter happiness that has lived in my life, I never remember where anywhere can lead. And all these people have all of these stories about life and how they weren't doing the right thing and then they finally figured it out and I don't want to be that. I mean, I kinda do, because then I'd have a story to tell someone, but if I hear these things, I feel like I should fix my life, learn from their mistakes, improve the human race instead of continuing to make the same mistakes that the ancient Israelites made. So I could go where I'm supposed to and find a way to make it seem like something other than taking people with potential who care immensely about God and the world He made and locking them away in a tower for another three years learning how to think, how to pray, what this dead ancient white guy said, how to deal with what this person is saying now, how to run a church, how to preach a sermon, how to serve God in this wonderfully organized, easily dying system.

Don't believe me when I say I've got it down.

I want to share a lesson with you.

Every year, the Earth, flying through space, with go through clouds of debris- maybe the tail end of comets, what have you- and this cloud of debris will cause this thing that we call a meteor shower. I love the beauty in the idea that a cloud of space dirt comes down to Earth as something worth staying up all night to see, but maybe that's just me. We have no control when this happens. We have people who call the planetarium demanding to know why we scheduled a meteor shower on a school night. Oh sorry, we say. We'll just change Earth's position in her orbit around the sun so your child can stay up on a Friday night instead of a Thursday night. Makes total sense.

If you know your astronomy, or if you listen to the weather report, you know that meteor showers get their names, like the Leonids or the Perseids or the Geminids because of the constellation they appear to originate from. The Leonids look like they're raining down from Leo, etc. But they don't really. Once again, they're just pieces of space dirt falling to put on a show for us. Some people wish on them, so for them, a meteor shower is like driving through town and hitting every single light yellow. It's just a great opportunity. But opportunities come from a lot of places. And if you're staring at Leo, hoping to catch all the meteors, you going to miss some.

Funny how you can be looking where you're told to look, the entire time, and miss the best part of the meteor shower.

Sisters, Stars and Smiles

This was one of those exhausting weeks that you're glad to see gone, but hate to see leave and given the chance, would live all over again. I might tweak some things, but I'd live it over again.

I worked twice this week at each job (and should have picked up tests to grade as well... hmmm...) and left the planetarium and Cold Stone tired but happy. You know, that tired that you get when you've accomplished something and that good feeling in your stomach when you know that you've done something right? It's a wonderful feeling to counter the tired feet and aching head.

I had a midterm and a problem set due on Monday. I got a different midterm back today and got an A- (can we please talk about this for a second? I'm so delighted- the only A's I've seen in my recent life have been the ones that start my name). For Monday, though, I felt semi-confident about the midterm (though if someone wants to correct my argument about Pompey's eastern tour and its military and constitutional implications, I'm happy to listen) and I know I did terribly on the problem set, but I finished it and I knew what was going on and that is something. I might have been completely lost in class after that, and the rest of the semester before that, but I can work with the Schrodinger Equation in spherical coordinates, I finally know what the Hamiltonian really stands for and I am getting to be a beast at angular momentum quantum mechanically, so take that, physics!

We polished handbells on Monday, and I played handbells on Wednesday and felt better about a lot of the things we're doing for the concert. We're playing Pictures at an Exhibition (love love love!) but the part for the bass bells is intense. I'm quite proud of myself (though Patrick worked out how most of the hard stuff would work) and my left arm is getting semi-buff because of it.

High point of the week? Tuesday night. Why Tuesday night, you may ask. Well, on Tuesday night, we at the Iota Tau chapter of Sigma Alpha Iota initiated twenty new sisters. If you've been listening to my life, you've probably heard that number before, because I say it often. I am so proud of my sisters in the chapter for forming a group of people that someone on the outside would want to be associated with, and I am so proud of the former members-in-training for having the guts to stick through all of this, to have the sisterly love required to change their schedules when necessary and just for being awesome in general. They are such a great addition to the chapter. You cannot believe how excited I am for next year. In addition to that, they played the Alma Mater on kazoos at their musicale. You don't get much more epic than that.



Speaking of my awesome sisters, we had formal at the planetarium tonight. So. Much. Fun. Before, my wonderful roommate/mermaid fixed my hair and did my makeup and we watched You've Got Mail and picked up the chocolates that littered the floor from the battle the night before. After attempting to exude confidence as I had been taught, walking in my heels up to the planetairum, I had the amazing privilege of being able to do a show in the theater for my sisters and their dates (holler praise for people who laughed at my jokes) and I loved the response. I mean, maybe it's feeding my ego, but I love it when people appreciate what you do, you know? And my boss was a fan of it as well, and very positive, and this bodes well for my future employment as a rambler in the theater at the planetarium. This makes me quite happy. You know what also makes me quite happy? Dancing to the Electric Slide (oh, camp days :D), belting out N*Sync, waking up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy (judge away, please) and attempting to remember the marching band Thriller dance and failing. Such good times.

I also had a chance to do something I've always wanted to do- conduct the marching band. It was once, for less than five minutes, but I had quiet cheers from my friends and sisters before I even climbed up on the ladder and more from my section and friends when I introduced myself. I loved being up there. I loved listening to the band playing to the beat that I was laying out (let's forget that it was absurdly slow, that I botched the transitions [thank goodness for drummers who can recover] and that my ending cutoff was a slight mess) and I loved standing on the ladder, looking out over the band. You might not be as excited as I am, but you're probably not in marching band and it probably doesn't matter much to you. And if you are and if it does, then you know what I mean. It's such a great feeling. I wish I had been a better candidate so I'd have another chance to conduct the band, but as it is, I'm perfectly happy to preserve my memory and leave the real life conducting to someone more suited.

So it's one in the morning on a Friday night and I am exhausted three ways from Sunday. The spring football game is tomorrow, I've got to have a problem set done by Monday, the new exec board is meeting on Sunday (dear sweet baby Jesus in A major, I've got a leadership position), there are books to be read and papers to be written. But I figured I'd sit back for a second and write it all down, because if you don't, you forget that life is for the alive and you'll spend your entire memory wasting away and wondering when that boy will wake up and see you as the answer to his questions. If you don't stop to think about the things you've been given, you will never have the chance to thank the Giver.

Happy resurrection life, my friends.

Barefoot

If you know me, you know I hate wearing shoes. If you know the UNC campus, you know that shoes are a necessity. Today, to raise awareness about the importance one pair shoes can bring, some of us are going barefoot. Needless to say, there will be much foot washing later, but for now, wherever you are, for a little bit, take off your shoes and walk around somewhere. Think how easy it is to get a cut, a splinter, a blister, and then think about how easily that can get infected. Think of all the things you're walking through, unprotected. Then think about this:

- In some developing nations, children must walk for miles to school, clean water and to seek medical help.
- Cuts and sores on feet can lead to serious infection.
- Often, children cannot attend school barefoot.
- In Ethiopia, approximately one million people are suffering from Podoconiosis, a debilitating and disfiguring disease caused by walking barefoot in volcanic soil.
- Podoconiosis is 100% preventable with basic foot hygiene and wearing shoes.
(from http://www.facebook.com/#!/event.php?eid=376663552429&ref=ts)

As a friend of mine has said, being aware of something makes no difference if you don't do something. So do something. Take off your shoes, feel some pain, and then help fix the problem. Fast for a day or two or five, feel hunger and go fix it. Think of the gross water you could be drinking and go help provide clean water for the millions who don't have it.

We can fix this.

Come on, let's go take on the world today.

"It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.

It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more"

-Anne Frank (12 June 1929 in Frankfurt am Main – early March 1945 in Bergen Belsen)