Theology Girl

A lot of class

January 19, 2005

So, I went to class. Instead of calling it �the class that shall not be named,� I hence force shall refer to it as �Touchy Feely Hoo Ha.� Now, in the unlikely event that the professor of TFHH reads this, I want to say: �It�s not you; it�s me.� (Seriously, it is.) The professor really is lovely and well-prepared and by all accounts a good teacher. I am not, however, a good student despite what most may think.

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Touchy Feely included (but was not limited to) �guided meditation� (which some may recall being chronicled in the movie �fight club�) and �clarity committees.� There are a few things I could do without in the world�chief among them committees of any form. And committees dedicated to clarity? Oh irony, how thou doth mock me. Come on now, am I the only person who sees the paradoxical nature of the claim that such can exist? So, I tried to pay attention. But somewhere between the meditation and the bearing of my soul to strangers, my mind began to wonder. I have a few options when this happens. I either a) write angst ridden haikus about wanting to flee the situation, or b) write Stargate SG-1 fan fiction in my head. I see nothing wrong with the former, as it is technically literature. And I find nothing wrong with the latter per se either, except that my fiction is terrible. It usually involves some sort of paradise-like planet where Daniel Jackson falls in love with the queen or princess or whomever and they get married and are happy on earth and save everybody from the Goa�uld, Wraith, Replicators, etc. And sometimes I throw in horses with telepathic abilities. Shut up. You know you all do the same thing. Anyway, each time I was mentally getting to the ceremony of Dr. Jackson and Michaela (the half-angel, half Tauri princess), the teacher kept asking me to pray, or meditate on a situation where I felt I lost God or something. And then�this was the most painful part�I had to talk to my classmates. And then, if that wasn�t bad enough, I had to process what we talked about by yelling out �words� that described how I �felt.� Hellloooooo. I feel that Daniel Jackson deserves to be happy, and he I could get him there (oh, and should probably mention that O�Neill and Carter get together in these epic ballads as well�what can I say, I�m a sucker for a happy ending) if only the professor would lecture and stop making me participate. What�s that sound I hear? Is that a toilet? Oh, right�that�s my grade flushing down the toilet since 30 percent of it is based on class participation! Honestly, couldn�t my advisors have waited a year to take a semester off? One good note though. You know how in some stories and stuff, people end up with �unlikely allies?� I never thought I would have an �unlikely ally.� As it turns out, I found one in Touchy Feely Hoo Ha class. Go figure. Well, that�s all for tonight. A final note�at the end of class, we each had to go around the room and say a �word� as a prayer. I hate these things because if I am going to encompass the whole of my spiritual being in one word, I should have more prep time to think of one. The prayer was in reference to what I had gained in class. So when it got to me I said, �Clarity.� Heh. Clarity. And who says committees aren�t effective? Daily Review Weeks to marathon: 12 Miles Run: 4 Letters of Encouragement from Richard Dean Anderson: 0
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11:25 PM 0 comments 0 trackbacks

Back to School

You may notice the word �Koinonia� in the blogroll box on the right side of the screen. koinonia is the Greek word for fellowship. It is one of my favorite words, despite the fact that my School of Theology feels it needs to foster this amongst its students. Now, at first you might think this is a good thing�bringing people with similar interests, similar strong faiths, together in one, loving community. You would be wrong.

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Okay, maybe that is too harsh. There seem to be people who enjoy each other�s company. However, whenever one of my colleagues feel they need to create koinonia with me, I generally dive behind the nearest bookshelf, garbage can, parked car, etc. It isn�t that I actively dislike these people. Rather, they constantly want to talk about things that matter. Politics matter. The state of my immortal soul matters. What Paul Tillich thinks about existential estrangement matters (well, to some people anyway). I find other topics far more interesting. For instance, today at work, we were engaged in a hot debate over a timely issue and I didn�t end up wanting to poke my eyes out with the nearest sharp object. For nearly an hour we engaged the perennial question, �Do ducks have teeth?� Does this matter on a large scale? Unless you are in fact a waterfowl, I would guess not. However, it filled up many a fun moment and the question lingers still. I called my brilliant husband at his lab (because people who work in labs know these kinds of things), but alas he was not there. (He is often not there. Sometimes I think he is actually some sort of spy, and he is off saving the world whilst I sit in class. He really does have skills like a certain TV personality and would make quite a good spy. But I digress.) Sources on the Internet didn�t provide the definitive proof we needed. I swore that I once heard that ducks don�t have teeth per se, but they sort of have one large tooth like thing near the front of their bills. You know, they need it to spear fish, open beer cans, etc. I was mocked for this. No, �mocked� implies past tense. I am (even though I am not at work) probably still being mocked for this. And they can scoff all they like, I rather like the nick name �Duck Tooth,� though I prefer �DT� for short. Well, I�m off to my first session of the class that shall remain nameless #1 (CTSRN1). I am taking this class because both of my advisors abandoned me this semester (something about them having their own lives, * sigh *) and they were the only people who taught me in the past. Perhaps I�ll ask my classmates about the duck teeth question. That�s a sure way to break the ice and a good first step in creating koinonia.
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01:51 PM 0 comments 0 trackbacks

I am prolific, not obsessed, thank you very much

January 18, 2005

Updating a blog three times a day is entirely too much. At this rate I will run out of interesting things to say in exactly 7.2 days. I am not worried about this, however. After that point I intend to just make stuff up. Hemingway once said, ?All writers are liars.? I believe this. I feel that creative writing allows me to sublimate my natural gifts and talents for exaggeration. And I don?t consider what I do lying per se, but rather, ?creating personal mythology.?

That?s my story and I?m sticking to it.

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11:26 PM 1 comments 0 trackbacks

Running

So, with only three months to go until the Boston Marathon, I need to start putting some serious mileage on the ol� pedometer. However, the cruel forces of nature are not making my altruistic pursuits easy. Now, believe me when I say I want to run outside (as much as I �want� to run anywhere). The Charles River is frozen and the geese like to take flying dives and slide across the ice, like they are children playing. The snow is blown into the sky, reflecting the sun like a thousand tiny diamonds floating around your face. And the city sparkles against a clear, blue sky. Surely, one would think, running in such a place would be inspiring, nay, life-changing. That would be if this winter fairy land weren�t 10 degrees and falling. Tiny diamonds floating around your face might sound enchanting, but the allure fades when you realize that they are not in fact gems, but instead millions of demon-possessed knives bent on your utter destruction.

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01:20 PM 3 comments 0 trackbacks

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