The Dichotomy of Life (And the Week of Suck)

I've been at home for the last couple of days and I have managed to not think about school until today.
It's probably been one of the best breaks that I've been at home for. I started to read Girl Meets God by Lauren F. Winner and, as I have been taking it in over the last couple of days, it has become one of my favorite books.
Let me just explain the criteria, no, the high standards that I have for books. This may sound a little nerdy, so you can just skip down to the next paragraph if you can't handle it. A book needs to be objective about life, no matter what it talks about. This allows for it to be specific and general all at the same time, while still communicating an overarching point. A concrere example: In Girl Meets God, Lauren Winner talks about her journey from Judaism to Orthodox Judaism to Christianity. It is absolutely wonderful because not only does she talk about her religious background and theological angst, but she also weaves in the aspects of her life that directly affect her completely. Her main point, aside from finding God in all things, is the marriage between her life of Judaism and her new life of Christianity.
Here are a few quotes:

"Pastor Mike," I said, "I think I am beginning to believe in Jesus."
Pastor Mike sipped his cider in silence. Finally he said, "You know, Lauren, you can't just divorce Judaism."

When I visited his family, Benjamin bunked down in a younger brother's bedroom, and I slept in his room. He always snuck in late at night and we would lie in bed kissing. Maybe kissing him, in that Washington town house with brothers and parents sleeping down the hall should have felt thrilling, or dangerous. I suppose his parents could have walked in on us at any moment, and freaked out, ordered Benjamin back to his brother's room and me back to Charlotesville. But it didn't feel thriling or illicit or rebelious; it felt domestic. I had kissed boys before, kisses grabbed in Charlottesville when someone's parents were out for the evening, but no one other than my mother ever saw me in a Lanz flannel night gown.

I am a mean and petty person, and a terrible Christian to boot, and I spend all weekend hoping that Steven and his bride will be miserable, that his briliant dissertation will turn to straw, that his roof will leak and his car will die and he'll be stuck in a loveless marraige in that god-forsaken town in Arkansas for the rest of his natural life. I hope, too, that she is not a Christian, that she'll lead him down a path of sin and restlessness, away from church and straight toward debauchery. I hope he forgets to baptize the baby all my friends imagine she's carrying.

These are just a few from Anna's copy of the book. I'm sure that there will be more to come when I get my own copy in which I will write in the margins and underline my favorite quotes. I'm about seventy five percent through the book and I look forward to the next time that I pick it up and am able to read myself into the stories and completely relate in the weirdest way to all of Lauren Winner's theological struggles.

More to come on this next issue, but I feel like there has been a certain person behind all of the male characters that I have ever described, ever put inside of a setting, ever written to be romantically interested with a girl. And I saw him this weekend.

the college life

last night I felt like I was in college for the first time in a long time.
Corrie and I hung out on her roof and ate ice cream. We talked for a glorious amount of time, yelled at people from the roof, ate medium size blizzards, and generally caught up on life while the night breeze blew by us.
I haven't had that glorious of a night in a long time.
Yes, that's right:
Glorious.

I need to make more time for stuff like that. Especially because the weather is so nice now.
And let's be honest-my time at Greenville College is almost down to one year.

It's nice to think about these things as I'll be locked away finishing my Exegesis today. It should be good.
You should think of me in the library, chains on the door of my study room as the storm rages outside. The lights may flicker a time or two...inevitably there will be wind blowing through the library.
Then suddenly, the dragon, the haunted house, the pirates, and the pagemaster that are painted on the ceiling will ooze off and I will have to go on an adventure as only written by the books in the library. Good thing the library has clearly marked Exits.

Like I said, it should be good.

Oh, by the way, what would you do if you met yourself?
And what if she was you two years ago?
It would be interesting communicating because 19-year-old Emily would have no idea what 21-year-old Emily was trying to tell her about life experiences and how they have shaped her. She could only imagine.
I wonder what 23-year-old Emily would say to me now?