Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
confessions
IT'S 11:30 PM AND I CAN'T SLEEP BECAUSE I'M THAT EXCITED ABOUT CLASS STARTING TOMORROW!!!!!! :D
What can I say, friends? I mean, I've been seriously considering just walking around with a sign taped to my back--a big sign that says:
Buuuut I'm pretty sure what's going on way down on the inside looks a little more like this:
Except, of course, instead of a boy with ruler-slicked hair, it'd be a girl with a mini curly afro thing.
Some might be mortified by the idea of being labeled a nerd. I can't judge--that's a perfectly natural response. Which is why I am bewildered by the fiesta going on inside my head. I suppose you could say I have learned to embrace my nerdiness, my enthusiasm for 200-year old literature, Star Wars, comics, libraries, and giant thick-rimmed glasses. I rejoice at the prospect of collecting stacks and stacks of Norton anthologies and Penguin Classics so that 20 years from now my children can look through my library and say, "Whoa, Mom, these are so old." To which I will reply, "Yes, they are! Which should give you plenty to discuss on your 5 page essay!" And they will adore literature as much as I do, and it will be one big happy family of English love. :)
I take all of this excitement as a direct answer to prayer, actually. I so need God to give me joy in my work--real, lasting joy in every paper and presentation. Because over the past 3 semesters, I've come to personally learn that if I don't care about my work, I won't care about my work. Ok, so maybe I'm the only person floored by that thought, but either way, it's helping me understand that it's better to be passionate about something and struggle through the yucky parts, than to stop caring and coast the rest of the way.
Last spring was pretty heinous for me--for a lot of different reasons. I took classes that were unconscionably difficult for me, which led to--> discouragement --> lack of motivation--> random bouts of angst-->more discouragement--> lack of motivation--> more random bouts of angst -->more discouragement--so as one can imagine, for the early part of this January, I was so worried that this would be The Semester of Suck the Sequel. But after a lot of prayer, and receiving the joy that comes from being with family and friends who show me such sincere love in precious ways, I find myself completely...incandescent with peace of mind.
I must go to bed. This is absurd. It simply won't do for me to appear in class with suitcases under my eyes. O.o
Oh look--it's officially tomorrow!!!! :D
The Moral of the Story: I will care about my work, so that I'll care about my work. :)
What can I say, friends? I mean, I've been seriously considering just walking around with a sign taped to my back--a big sign that says:
THIS IS AN ENGLISH MAJOR NERD.
But I decided against it, realizing that such rash actions may somewhat impede my chances for further friendship-making. I can't afford to unload all of that on society all willy nilly all over the place.
Of course, this is what my ego wants people to see when they look at me:
Buuuut I'm pretty sure what's going on way down on the inside looks a little more like this:
Except, of course, instead of a boy with ruler-slicked hair, it'd be a girl with a mini curly afro thing.
Some might be mortified by the idea of being labeled a nerd. I can't judge--that's a perfectly natural response. Which is why I am bewildered by the fiesta going on inside my head. I suppose you could say I have learned to embrace my nerdiness, my enthusiasm for 200-year old literature, Star Wars, comics, libraries, and giant thick-rimmed glasses. I rejoice at the prospect of collecting stacks and stacks of Norton anthologies and Penguin Classics so that 20 years from now my children can look through my library and say, "Whoa, Mom, these are so old." To which I will reply, "Yes, they are! Which should give you plenty to discuss on your 5 page essay!" And they will adore literature as much as I do, and it will be one big happy family of English love. :)
If my future kids grow up to be engineers, you better believe they'll dang well be well-read engineers who can discuss Dickens and Shakespeare with sense and authority.
I take all of this excitement as a direct answer to prayer, actually. I so need God to give me joy in my work--real, lasting joy in every paper and presentation. Because over the past 3 semesters, I've come to personally learn that if I don't care about my work, I won't care about my work. Ok, so maybe I'm the only person floored by that thought, but either way, it's helping me understand that it's better to be passionate about something and struggle through the yucky parts, than to stop caring and coast the rest of the way.
Last spring was pretty heinous for me--for a lot of different reasons. I took classes that were unconscionably difficult for me, which led to--> discouragement --> lack of motivation--> random bouts of angst-->more discouragement--> lack of motivation--> more random bouts of angst -->more discouragement--so as one can imagine, for the early part of this January, I was so worried that this would be The Semester of Suck the Sequel. But after a lot of prayer, and receiving the joy that comes from being with family and friends who show me such sincere love in precious ways, I find myself completely...incandescent with peace of mind.
I must go to bed. This is absurd. It simply won't do for me to appear in class with suitcases under my eyes. O.o
Oh look--it's officially tomorrow!!!! :D
The Moral of the Story: I will care about my work, so that I'll care about my work. :)
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
a letter for Darcy
I have been acutely afflicted with "Austenmania" since the day my great-aunt sent me a beautiful, 50-something-year-old copy of Pride and Prejudice
in the mail. It was then, at the age of 12, that I first became
acquainted with Fitzwilliam Darcy; and since that very day, my ardent
affections towards him have remained unchanged.
I hereby write this letter on behalf of my fellow Darcinians, whose affection for the gentleman is as warm as my own.
My dear Mr. Darcy,
I hardly know how to begin, for I fear the collective efforts of Miss Austen, the British Broadcasting Network, Hollywood, tall handsome gentlemen, Colin Firth, aristocracy, the United Kingdom, and Matthew MacFayden shall render my praise of you and your fine figure quite paltry by comparison. I confess it is with great trepidation that I compose this, as I hardly know how one such as myself can do you justice. Perhaps you are acquainted with a certain Mr. Collins? He is, by all accounts, a rather... loquacious man, and lest my speech begin to remind you of his, I shall endeavor to quell my adulation so as not to offend your sensibilities.
It may grieve you to know, Mr. Darcy, that the 21st century is not at all like your time. The reserve, the elegant social rituals, the finery and finesse, are as foreign to the majority of my generation as the concept of distended trousers would be to yours. I'm sure you would turn completely crimson if you were privy to the brash coarseness many of the young people of today exhibit. Indeed, scoundrels are not strangers to your century, but at least the Wickhams, Willoughbys, Thorpes, and Elliots of your day had the decency to grease their moral turpitude with oily manners and chicanery. I do not wish to discourage you entirely, for there are still a few gentlemen left--truly gallant young men pleasing both in manners and countenance, well-trained in the arts of chivalry and amiable behavior--and I am confident you would not be loath to stand up in the same room with them. There are others, however, who I think would benefit from a sound verbal thrashing from one such as yourself. But I shall speak no more of them.
Please allow me congratulate you, sir, on the 199th anniversary of you and the former Miss Bennet. Your near bi-centennial marriage still sends ladies of my time into raptures, to be sure! Please, pass on my warmest regards to Elizabeth.
I'm afraid I must be off now, Mr. Darcy; how I look forward to meeting you again when next I read. Please take comfort in the knowledge of two things: the first, the assurance of my constant affection; the second, the satisfaction of being almost entirely responsible for my insufferably high expectations of men.
Best wishes,
Miss Natasha Oladokun
I hereby write this letter on behalf of my fellow Darcinians, whose affection for the gentleman is as warm as my own.
My dear Mr. Darcy,
I hardly know how to begin, for I fear the collective efforts of Miss Austen, the British Broadcasting Network, Hollywood, tall handsome gentlemen, Colin Firth, aristocracy, the United Kingdom, and Matthew MacFayden shall render my praise of you and your fine figure quite paltry by comparison. I confess it is with great trepidation that I compose this, as I hardly know how one such as myself can do you justice. Perhaps you are acquainted with a certain Mr. Collins? He is, by all accounts, a rather... loquacious man, and lest my speech begin to remind you of his, I shall endeavor to quell my adulation so as not to offend your sensibilities.
It may grieve you to know, Mr. Darcy, that the 21st century is not at all like your time. The reserve, the elegant social rituals, the finery and finesse, are as foreign to the majority of my generation as the concept of distended trousers would be to yours. I'm sure you would turn completely crimson if you were privy to the brash coarseness many of the young people of today exhibit. Indeed, scoundrels are not strangers to your century, but at least the Wickhams, Willoughbys, Thorpes, and Elliots of your day had the decency to grease their moral turpitude with oily manners and chicanery. I do not wish to discourage you entirely, for there are still a few gentlemen left--truly gallant young men pleasing both in manners and countenance, well-trained in the arts of chivalry and amiable behavior--and I am confident you would not be loath to stand up in the same room with them. There are others, however, who I think would benefit from a sound verbal thrashing from one such as yourself. But I shall speak no more of them.
Please allow me congratulate you, sir, on the 199th anniversary of you and the former Miss Bennet. Your near bi-centennial marriage still sends ladies of my time into raptures, to be sure! Please, pass on my warmest regards to Elizabeth.
I'm afraid I must be off now, Mr. Darcy; how I look forward to meeting you again when next I read. Please take comfort in the knowledge of two things: the first, the assurance of my constant affection; the second, the satisfaction of being almost entirely responsible for my insufferably high expectations of men.
Best wishes,
Miss Natasha Oladokun
Sunday, January 1, 2012
twentytwelve
Today marks the day of a brand-new year-- 2012(!!!) WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!!
SO EXCITED :D
Some believe that this year will usher in the end of the world.
Mehhhh...well...as a survivor of a number of apocalypses, e.g. the Y2K craze, and the infamous end-of-the-world shenanigans in May 2011 (which embarrassingly ended with the world, in fact, not ending), I must say that I can't fully bring myself to worry about this ancient Mayan prediction.
(you can google Matthew 24:36 for the reason why I'm somewhat of a skeptic on this particular point)
Sure, there may be some who would be completely enthralled by the idea of knowing what will happen in their future. It would give all the planners plenty of time to calculate every part of their day, right down to the last detail. And it would give all the procrastinators the advantage of knowing just how long they can put something off before it becomes detrimental to their human existence. I do not fit snugly into either category--but even if I did, I still wouldn't want to know my future in it's entirety. If I were to find out all the details of my future life, I would completely freak out. Thank God He hasn't told me all the particulars. ;)
I much prefer the adventure of the unknown. How beautiful it is.
So, in 2012, may we take pleasure in every moment we have with our families and friends, remembering that it is the transience of those moments God has given us that casts such beautiful light on our lives.
Here's to a fantastic year. :)
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