Theology Girl

I could walk 1,000 miles

January 24, 2005

So, I don�t know how often you have existential crises, but I have them all the time. Granted, mine tend to come into sharp focus when I am forced to run on a treadmill (as I mentioned before) but really, I could be miles from any sort of exercise equipment and still have them. For instance, today I came home from work, ate lunch and immediately began to doubt the contributions my existence makes. I called my husband and said, �Peter, I am a terrible student, a terrible RA, there�s NO WAY I am going to be able to run the marathon and my fundraising efforts are going nowhere!!!� Peter, for his part, can be an alarmingly level-headed young man when he needs to be. His reply to this (as it usually is to most existential crises) was �Why don�t you go run? You will be able to run a marathon! Go on, go run! Yea Adrienne!� Or something like that. I sighed the sigh of one who is deeply misunderstood.

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Snowbound!

January 22, 2005

There is something about the weather, snow in particular, that reduces us to our most basic, primal selves. For example, the television news in Boston began advertising the Biggest Snow Storm Since 1978 (the year of my birth�coincidence? I think not.) and I was overcome with a powerful, all-encompassing urge to purchase milk.

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Now, granted, we were out of milk. And I enjoy a cup of cocoa or a bowl of cereal as much as the next person. But the thought of having to live a day or two without it sent me into a panic the likes of which I haven�t seen since I learned that Josh Groban tickets had sold out and I thought I wouldn�t get to see the new tour. (Hey, save your judgments for someone else�it was a large concern for me, okay?) So, for hours today I feverishly strode through the grocery store, panicked that they would be Out Of Food. Yeah, they weren�t. At all. So, I got a cart and filled it with, apparently, the most random food I could find. Now, it was comforting to realize that the rest of the greater Boston area (and Allston, and Brighton and I think Brookline, and possibly Newton) had also been seized with the hunt and gather instinct. The store was jammed with dazed looking consumers, and the occasional mother on a cell phone who was muttering to the clan members safe in the cave watching the fire sticks. It was crazy. People were fighting for territorial hunting grounds. In the produce section, harsh words were exchanged, fabric softener was thrown, pure hugger-mugger broke out over the last bunch of bananas. I dove under the kumquats and rolled into a fetal ball until the harsh reality of obtaining provisions subsided. (Random thought--apparently, even in this weather, there is no shortage of kumquats. Who would have guessed?) (Another random thought: there are currently 17 pages on google that contain both the words �hugger-mugger� and kumquat. That is even less likely.) So, I finally got home after waiting 45 minutes in line and looked in amused awe at the items I dragged home. I put away my cans of kidney beans, bags of frozen peas and my chocolate covered raisins (because why buy food that make up actual meals?) and realized with a certain ontological horror that I had. Forgotten. To. Buy. Milk. I ended up buying it across the street from CVS. I think it expired just after the blizzard of 78, but I don�t care. At least I have milk (well, technically I think it�s some sort of toxic base now�eh, potato, potahto) but at least I can rest safely knowing I�ve provided what I could for my family. At least I have the kidney bean and chocolate-covered raisin situation covered.
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Never mind

January 20, 2005

Never mind. I can no longer call yesterday's class "Touchy Feely Hoo Ha" because any class with that name cannot entail 100 pages of organizational theory a week. All the guided meditation in the world can't change that. Meh. Though I would like to send a shout out to my long, lost friend Helena, who emailed today, God bless her. I'm always sort of worried when I contact someone to whom I hadn't spoken in a long time out of the blue. But I feel that in this life, you should be able to go 5 years without speaking to a person and then if you see them in a mall in Nebraska, be able to pick up a conversation you were having the last time you met. That's Koinonia, people. But maybe that's just me.

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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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