What J-term is like

For the last two years, I've spent the month of January at home, not doing much of consequence. Interterm at Taylor, or J-term, as it is commonly called, was purported to be strange, some mythological hybrid of class and vacation, homework and movie-watching. Being home seemed like a better option than squishing around my financial aid to figure out how to pay a month's room and board, so J-term remained a mystery to me.

But no more. This year, stars and scholarships aligned, and I got to take a speculative fiction writing course taught by Jeff Gerke. The class itself was excellent. It and a couple of Writing Excuses episodes have gotten me really thinking about applying myself to writing as a craft with a work mindset. But college isn't just about the classes -- it's about the experience! So, what was my first J-term like?

One thing I'd been told was that J-term was supposed to be much more relaxed. You typically only take one class, so schedules aren't crazy, a lot of time the homework's not too bad, and the rest of the time you get to hole up and watch movies.

 I'm taking two classes and I have two and a half on-campus jobs. Also, things got off to a bumpy start because snowstorm.

I took this a few days ago after a lot of the snow melted, it snowed more, and then everything got plowed nicely again. But there is no escaping the wind.

Things were weird for a while because a significant number of students couldn't make it to campus on time, classes couldn't start, but they had a bunch of students living in dorms that needed to be fed. So what did Taylor do? It organized a fleet of campus policemen and other employees to drive students to the dining commons. It was very interesting, and I'm glad my school cares so much.

Eventually, things settled into what must be semi-normal operations. I woke up for 8 a.m. classes. I adjusted to homework. I reverted to being social with people to whom I'm not related. (It's amazing how quickly I relapse when given the opportunity.) Classes and life moved on.

Things were different because some people were home and some new people moved in. At times, I had a ton of work to do and other times I could relax. I had two game nights with friends. I built a snowman. I've watched several movies with my roommate. I wrote 35 pages of fiction and attended a great theater workshop.

I'm glad J-term has room for things like board games, snowmen, and movies. At the same time, the work has been a good mental preparation for the coming semester. Now I have a week left to convalesce, write, and work on theater stuff.

Overall experience, positive. Even including the snowstorm. (The cold never bothered me, anyway.)

And I'm already excited for a new semester.

Fill 'er up

Out of pity for my roommate, I cleaned my corner of the room yesterday. My other roommate is gone for the month, though, so she doesn't get my pity. I am currently using her bed as an extension of my desk. The items on it include a book I got for Christmas, a Bible study, some index cards, a letter I received last week, two skeins of yarn with two partially-crocheted stuffed animals, a hat, a sketchbook, Bananagrams, and my mittens.

I have been feeling like a slothful slug lately. A slogth, if you will. It is the kind of slogthfulness that wants to pretend it's being useful, but not really. "Let's work on that one drawing project. Oh, stuck? Well, let's crochet instead. Or, hey roommate, want to play Bananagrams?" I've been meaning to fix a button on my coat for ages, but I can't even get myself to procrastinate by sewing (which is weird) because it sounds vaguely productive.

We recently had quite a good chapel speaker, and one of the first supporting points he brought up in his message was that procrastination does not give rest. True rest can only be found in Jesus. If I know this, why am I having a hard time with it?

I've started to realize something as I try to catch up on Bible readings and square up my school life. Jesus isn't a gas tank, or an energy drink, or even an oasis. Doing life right doesn't look like a daily dose of Jesus. He doesn't simply work like fuel.

This isn't a criticism of "filling up on Jesus" via communal worship, Bible reading, or prayer. On the contrary, I think a better attitude about some of those things could help me. But reading the Bible every day won't automatically make my relationship with God better.

What does this have to do with me being lazy?

The more I type this, the more I feel like pretty much everything. I had no idea Jesus was going to make an appearance in this post until the following Bible verse popped into my head after I wrote the first two paragraphs:

I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly. -- John 10:10, NKJV

My life doesn't look like that often. Abundant looks like a life overflowing with fruit, not a bed overflowing with discarded distractions. Jesus isn't supposed to occupy my time. He's supposed to occupy my life. I don't think Jesus is the fuel so much as the combustion chamber, or maybe the combustion itself.

Combustion doesn't necessarily sound restful, but it does sound like a good way to dislodge slogths. I think I'll try it.

The Swing of Things

I've noticed before that transitioning between school and home and back is weird, not because it feels unnatural or off, but because it doesn't. Rather, when I get to the other place, the things that happened before feel oddly distant. The new reality is prevalent. In theory, this should smooth the transition, but it doesn't mean I snap back into good school habits the minute I set foot in my dorm.

Here, for your education and enjoyment, is a comparative study of instincts while at home and habits necessary for school.

Home instinct: Wake up in time for Good Eats at 10 a.m. (Too bad Cupcake Wars is on half the time.)
School habit: Be awake at 7:15 to be ready for class and start functioning immediately.

Home instinct: Talk gibberish to pets in high-pitched voices.
School habit: Have actual conversations with roommates, who prefer a normal tone of voice.

Home instinct: Crochet. All. The. THINGS!
School habit: Homework first. All craft projects second, or even third.

Home instinct: Eat when hungry -- which results in not eating till 2 in the afternoon, thus not being hungry for dinner, thus requiring extensive snacking before bed to not end up ravenous in the morning.
School habit: Eat meals at regular times, because the dining commons will close and then you'll have to buy food from somewhere.

Home instinct: Take life at a slow pace. Prioritize naturally, based on what opportunities come up.
School habit: Work according to deadline, or be woefully underprepared.

Home instinct: Get around to projects long abandoned and things left untried, because there is finally time and space for them.
School habit: Do what is necessary, and in down time, rest. Exploration into new territory is too much work.

I miss the openness of being home at a time when I don't have many responsibilities. I like the focus of being at school at a time when I do. The hard part is reconciling my mind from one to the other. It doesn't feel like a big mental adjustment, but the things required of me do change enough that I have to be intentional.

Time to get back into the swing of things.

End-of-semester blues

Usually, the effects of wintry weather and school drag hit me worst around February, but they've come a bit early this year. I'm tired, I'm grumpy at myself for being so lazy, and I'm ready to go home.

I've never had finals that are really bad, and this year's aren't bad, either, but I have to put in some work on projects. Like, yesterday. (And you know how "yesterday" is sometimes a poetic expression for times long past?)

There are lots of factors that have led to the end-of-semester blues:

• I failed NaNoWriMo for the first time in 5 years. I could write a post about how I had to re-prioritize, but considering my last post was a confident assertion of my ability to win...
• My healthy eating has been mediocre eating for quite a while and the last few weeks have had far more sugar in them than I would like. This makes me tired. Also, I have a new theory that coffee makes me depressed.
• I'm about a month behind on my daily Bible readings.
• Wise use of time has been something I've aspired to for a long time. But self-discipline is sometimes destroyed by necessity, and then it doesn't know how to pick itself back up once it has room to breathe again. Or at least mine doesn't.
• Currently, playing Bananagrams is more appealing than doing research on the Ottoman Empire. Much more appealing.

I'm ready for the semester to be done. I'm ready for Christmas. I'm ready to crochet presents, make pie, and watch Food Network with my cat.

But as an expression of the blues and as a way to defeat them, music prevails.

Last night I went to Taylor's annual Christmas concert, Sing Noel. And we did sing. I listed to marvelous music and words in languages I don't know, but the meaning is clear. This is a beautiful time of year for some reasons, at least. Music is a good place to start.

Also: Christmas.

NaNoHalfMo

Last month, I decided what I needed was a break from my novel, but not a break from writing. Thus, I planned to do what I started calling NaNoHalfMo -- write a story of 25,000 words. That seemed like a good idea to keep myself from being overwhelmed while still being creative and allowing a story that had been swimming around in my head to be told.

I'd like to think I have a talent for naming things, like characters and pet rocks. NaNoHalfMo, however, was too perfect. Half my month was eaten away with work in the theater, and I couldn't have written 834 words a day if I had tried.

Now, I have half a month left. Less, actually. Instead of 1,667 words a day to get to my goal, I have to write 1,923.

I just spent the last hour or so reading over all the NaNoWriMo pep talks and updates I've been ignoring for the last 18 days. And now I'm feel excited like I haven't been since last August when I started working on my second draft of Void. I'm starting to get infected with the frenzy that comes with NaNoWriMo. I'm starting to get hopeful, and stubborn, and determined.

Because now I have a chance to put other parts of my life on hold for writing instead of the other way around. Now I have room for a writing creative project and not just a theater one.

Now is the time for NaNo.

If you're writing a novel this month, I'll see you at the finish line.

Insidious

I made a rule for myself earlier this year that I would not do homework on Sundays. So far, I've been able to stick to it (except for when I do my American lit readings on Sundays, because that's reading and it's enjoyable, right?). Tonight, though, I'm going to bend my rule a little further, because it's not homework if it's a blog post!

This semester I'm enrolled in a lit seminar focused on C.S. Lewis. We've been going over The Great Divorce, which I read my freshman year when an actor named Anthony Lawton performed an excellent adaptation of it. Describing Lewis's words can't come near to the way he puts things himself, so if you haven't read The Great Divorce (or The Screwtape Letters), I urge you to drop all the things you're holding and pick up a book at once. And then maybe this will sound more like a musing on a book than an adapted essay.

Something made abundantly clear when reading about the ghosts in The Great Divorce is that selfishness goes along with the bending of good and truth. In making something more important than God, you set yourself up along with it. Almost any sin tries to make us God. All sins fail in that they take us farther away rather than bringing us closer to Him.

There are sins I am prone to. I look down on others for being less competent than myself. I'm jealous of those more capable than me. I let myself be carried away by more extreme emotions because I want to think I deserve to feel the way I do, which lets me wallow when it's too hard to do something about my circumstances.

The thing is, even when I'm aware of these things, I can trick myself into thinking I'm doing the opposite. Instead of being irritated at someone for doing poorly, I can pity them instead. That feels like compassion, right? Jealousy is just a desire to learn to do better. And when I know I'm letting myself get carried away, I can just try to get over it, and aren't I so strong and noble to be overcoming myself so?

Sin is insidious. It sneaks into the things we try to convince ourselves are right. It hides in the dark without knowing how big the light is.

The Great Divorce highlights how ludicrous sin and evil really are. In the face of God, in the knowledge of how deep and beautiful and enduring Truth and Goodness are, our shifting thoughts, self-justification, writhings and whimperings make for a pathetic show.

In Lewis's encounter with the Tragedian and the Lady, the Lady tries to make her husband understand. "Did you think joy was created to live always under that threat? Always defenseless against those who would rather be miserable than have their will self-crossed?"

No matter how we try to justify ourselves, Hell cannot veto Heaven. The things we would claim for ourselves cannot be right or great or truthful if they are not in God, even if born out of a desire to struggle for truth.

The real answer to all our desires can only come with eternity. With his usual deftness, Lewis puts it in words assigned to the character of George MacDonald:

"All answers deceive. If ye put the question from within Time and are asking about possibilities, the answer is certain.... But if ye are trying to leap on into eternity, if ye are trying to see the final state of all things as it will be (for so ye must speak) when there are no more possibilities left but only the Real, then ye ask what cannot be answered to mortal ears. Time is the very lens through which ye see -- small and clear, as men see through the wrong end of a telescope -- something that would otherwise be too big for ye to see at all."

In time -- or maybe, as Lewis puts it, once we're outside time -- we will see how small we currently are. We will grow bigger than the insidiousness that tries to claim us. Heaven will be an answer better than all our theories and strivings, better even than all Mr. Lewis's words can make us hope for.

Crafting

Every once in a while, I get in a really crafty mood. Sometimes it's the result of a project that's been mulling in my head and finally spills out, demanding attention (must! buy! yarn!). Other times it's from a need to do something with my hands and be away from people. Often, it's the drive to try something new.

For the last week or two, I've been working on my Halloween costume, a Regency-style dress so I can be Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice. (Yes... book nerd...) I've never done such an involved sewing project before. I had to carefully read the instructions, troubleshoot problems, and worst of all, hand sew buttonholes. I even opted for period accuracy and hand stitched the visible seams. I usually wouldn't put in so much time for a Halloween costume, but my hope is that I can possibly use it in the future for reenactments and cosplay. (And now I can be Lizzie Bennet whenever I want.)

Making the dress started me thinking about the patience it must have taken to live in a time where people had to make their own clothes, grow their own food, and repair their own tools. Things we take for granted, even get irritated about if they take too long, were simply considered work to be done. People had to be productive in order to get to what was more important.

Except I realized that didn't have anything to do with me making the dress.

For me, doing something like sewing a dress simply because I can is a way to instantly feel accomplished. Since I'm good at doing crafty things, trying a different crafty thing feels like something new, but really it's just another exercise in things I know I can do. It doesn't take too much effort, but I still end up with a tangible manifestation of how skillful I am.

lotrolife.com

Even when I try something completely new to me, the beginning stages are often easier to grasp, so it feels like I'm making progress. I do believe it's important for a person to be able to do a wide variety of things, but in RPG terms, my weakness is a tendency to multiclass. And giving in to the excitement of trying new things can take away from working on more important things -- skills where I now need to put in a lot of effort to improve and really accomplish something.

Namely, writing.

Because I love learning, it's easy to feel satisfied when trying something new. It is much harder to get past the beginning stages and dedicate myself to becoming an expert. Writing my novel is proving difficult. It's no longer new and interesting, but if I want to excel at it, I'm only going to improve if I keep working, rather than distracting myself with easier projects.

It's funny how doing something by hand can show you how short your attention span really is.