Bonny Swans... right now!

Now Playing: "The Mask and Mirror" by Loreena McKennitt. Track 2, "The Bonny Swans".

Here's the rest of it. Now you won't be bored, Vinca! :) (Or maybe you will be. Beware of flowery writing!) This has got to be a record, though: three posts in one day. Exceptionally long posts, too, and (what's worse) on an exceptionally busy day. Where has all my supposedly-famed discipline gone?!

After lunch, I went up to my room, intending to put together a few last-minute things before my flute lesson. However, I left my door ajar, and A.C. burst in. She gave me an exuberant hug and told me that she's doing very well in one of her classes, which is making her happy. We chatted about history for awhile. She told me that she could easily envision me going to Jerusalem and digging up evidence for "what you believe" (that's how she phrased it--she won't take Christ's name on her lips). Playing along, I pointed out that it's "interesting" that Christ arrived just at the right time to have the greatest impact, just when the Roman Empire was ensuring peace and good communication across an incredible section of the world.

Flute lesson went well. After, I walked over to Zink Hall to meet with Dr. G about revising my Herodotus paper. I sat in trepidation for awhile outside his office, for the door was fast shut despite the fact that it was his office hour. Computer keys rattled from offices down the hall, and voices murmured in one room. Through Dr. G's closed door, I could hear delicate piano music playing from a CD. At last, I summed up the courage to knock. "Oh, hello," he said in his cultured, slightly nasal voice. "I'm sorry to disturb you," I apologized. "No, no. Sorry I didn't have my door open. I was so immersed in what I was doing that I didn't even realize it. Please, have a seat," he replied. I sat down and slid my paper across the table to him. "Hello, paper," he said humorously. "I'd like you to tell me what you think of it, and how I can make it better," I said shyly. He sat and read it over carefully, scribbling comments with a pencil stub. I gazed out the window at the bending, bronze-edged oak trees. The windows of the anthropology building across the way reflected the turquoise sky and the tossing trees like eyes. I sat quietly, smiling to myself, remembering the times when my siblings and I had had to go up to my father's office. He had usually let us draw with chalk on the green chalkboard in his room, and we had covered it, as high as we could reach, with dragons and tanks and flowers and horses and cats. I toyed in my mind with how my own office will look, if I should ever become a professor, and noticed idly that Dr. G's window was the open one: as I'd walked up to Zink, I had noticed that there was only one window open in the whole building, and it was his. The silence rustled gently, noise caressing. At last, Dr. G looked up. "This is really good," he said. "It's at leastan A minus paper." He showed me some editorial things I needed to clean up, and then went over a couple of places where I could add some evidence. "Any more questions?" he asked. "Yes," I said. "I seem to be plagued with A minuses in this class. Is there anything I can do to make that better?" He chuckled. "A perfectionist," he said. "Let me tell you a story. When I was a sophomore in college, I went to the TA of one of my English classes and spent a long time arguing with him over the grade of my paper. I finally managed to get him to concede the points of my argument. 'By the way,' the TA said, 'what grade did you make on that paper?' 'An A minus,' I replied. 'Get out of my office!' the TA roared." We both laughed, but he kindly went on to explain to me what he was looking for, and to make some complimentary statements about my work.

I flew out of Zink on angel's wings.

As I walked to Tyrrell Hall to practice my flute, I sang to myself, Psalm after Psalm, my heart "overflowing with a good theme". Practicing my flute somewhat deflated my joy. I think I should keep playing the flute, just to keep myself humble: it can be so frustrating! Just as I think I've learned a piece, or just as I'm about to perform it, I start to crack notes, slip on fingerings, lose all sense of rhythm. It's incredibly frustrating. I channeled my overwhelming joy into trying to force myself to get the Saint-Saens piece right (which I never really did).

Then I went running. The wind was very strong while I ran, buffeting me from the south-southwest. Strands of hair streamed from my head like the trees' auburn leaves flying above me. Back in my room, I fiddled with my Herodotus paper revision for a bit. At 5:30, I padded downstairs to the basement. Tonight was a free-dinner night: chili and cinnamon rolls. The basement echoed with laughter and high-pitched conversation. The whole dorm reeked of chili powder, beans, icing, and cinnamon. Bethany, Tara, Alisha, Julie, Katie, and Kathryn were all there, among many others. I stood and chatted with Tara about classes. Tay joined our conversation. She's a young woman from RUF who's in a wheelchair. She's about the size of an overweight six-year-old, and her voice is very squeaky. Her head is hunched back on her crooked shoulders. However, her mental capacity is unimpaired, and she's majoring in Philosophy. Bethany described to us the sophisticated watergun fights that she and her friends are having. They carry their waterguns with them everywhere, like spies in enemy territory, and shoot each other sneakily. Whoever gets shot is "dead". Apparently, they used to take their guns even into the cafeteria, but when the official of Housing and Dining accidentally got caught in the line of fire one day, they decided to declare the cafeteria an armistice zone.

After supper, I spent an hour-and-a-half revising my Herodotus paper. My brain is completely fried, but I still have to read Aristotle's Poetics for next Honors class and also to study for the Major British Writers exam on Tuesday. Oh, dear.

And there's another Honors paper to consider, a story to work on, a poem to write, two "World" magazines to read, and my room to clean, and a shower to take, and devotions to do, and prayers to make... let alone sleep! Woo hoo.