Woe is me that I might be human

For once I seem to be at a lack of words to fully express myself. I want for a larger vocabulary and more full understanding of verbiage and usage so that all can understand me. There is a silence that is deep within myself that is like dark calming waters, waters so deep that even though the water is crystal clear you cannot see the bottom. For me the silence is deafening. There is something that lurks beneath the surface that stirs and causes ripples in the water, but never breaks the surface. What is this beast that roves inside of me, deep, deep down below where it cannot be found to be named? Is this beast truly a beast, or does my fear of the unknown make it a beast instead of a muse or benign creature? Silence is my only recourse. In silence I make my refuge; it is the one place where I cannot hurt myself. What right do I, as a mere fallen being, have to interject these little witticisms that cause people to see themselves as I see them? I wish I were as stoic in my silence as I would like you to believe. Alas, I cannot even keep a promise to my self, that my hard earned silence would do more good than evil. Words spill forth from my lips, unbidden; words torn from my self that I would rather not utter. Words, which have the possibility to do far more harm than good.

Even though I am silent, words are my constant companion. I eat, think, sleep and dream words. 'They are like honey on my lips, they are like water to my soul.' Daily I steep myself in their familiar fragrance; I drink them in like hot tea on a cold winter's night or a iced drink on a hot summer's day. They are my comfort, the one place where, even though I am silent, I am allowed true freedom; the one place where I am who I believe myself to be, where my dreams and wishes come to fruition. I love the place that words take me and who they allow me to be, but if I am silent what joy can be truly derived from them? Are words not meant to be spoken aloud, to be read with passion and feeling in tone and motion? If they are, then my silence is in vain and all is for naught. But, if I take solace in the fact that what I do not say does not cause harm, am I really betraying my calling? These are the questions that plague me day and night: do I not have a responsibility to my words and the actions and response that they cause? But do I not also have a responsibility to words themselves? I would dare not keep a wild bird locked up in a cage and clip its wings just so I could look and admire it, so the same it must be with words which are just as wild and beautiful as the creatures our Creator placed on this earth. I am torn between the two absolutes that I know to be true; to which do I owe the more responsibility, and to which do I owe my allegiance? That, my friends, is the conundrum that I face.

*sighs*

Today I dropped off my application for the possition of administrative assistant for the humanities office here at SPU. It was all filled out and perfect with my resume attached. When I dropped it off the lady at the human resources front desk asked if she could forward it to other depatments who were also looking for administrative assistants because there were quite a few. I agreed and when I got back I went to the job posting site and what did I find? "No longer accepting applications/interviews" for the Admin. Assistant for the humanities. *sighs* it was like that this morning at 10:00am when I looked to make sure it was still there. OH well... there goes that idea. I'm still going to wait and see if other depatments would like interviews, so yeah... I'm a little heart broken right now.

Statistics (and other things)

So, I'm sitting in my statistics class (which is held in one of the computer labs) and listening to my professor who sort of looks like Santa Clause with his while bearded and hair talk about probability. Something about rolling a soft die on a hard surface and how the pattern of the probability will change because the corners are slowly being worn away. Which is sort of cool is you actually get to do the experiment, but we don't so it is significantly less cool. I think I like this section a lot better, but we haven't gotten to the actual formulas yet, so... who knows. We're already a fourth of the way through this and the midterm is at the end of this week *yikes!* and there are already a few of us studying together before class.

This weekend has been an interesting for me. I barely hung out with Michael this weekend - which isn't too bad because I did get to see him - on Friday, I went o my cousin Alex's graduation on Saturday, and then Sunday I hung out with Brian for a few hours. It was good to see him again, very interesting to see how he's changed, yet how he is still basically the same - even if we are more different than before he left for South America and I for SPU. We are pretty different people, but we are still good friends because of our shared experiences and because of our love for each other as friends and brother and sisters in Christ. Brian is one of the few people I would trust everything to, there is only one other person I trust that much. It's good to have people you trust that much, sometimes I wish there were more people that I trusted that much, especially someone of the female sex. Ugh, I've been reading too much Jane Austen.

Speaking of Austen, my first paper on Pride and Prejudice is due tomorrow (only 500 words)and I think I'm either going to write on the different types of masculinity portrayed in the novel, or the role of laughter in women, especially Elizabeth and Lydia Bennett. It might be hard to get it all in there, but I'm not too shabby at condensing. *sighs* I really like P&P, it's like comfort food for English majors; happy thought indeed. I'm sort of excited to read Jane Eyre *gasp!* after reading all the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde, especially "The Eyre Affair." I'm strange, I know, but it runs in my family.

"...The Special Operations Network was instigated to handle policing duties considered either too unusual or too specialized to be tackled by the regular force. There were thirty departments in all, started at the more mundane Neighborly Disputes (SO-30) and going onto Literary Detectives (SO-27) and Art Crimes (SO-24). Anything below SO-20 was restricted information, although it was common knowledge that the ChronoGuard was SO-12 and Antiterrorism SO-9. It is rumored that SO-1 was the department that polices the SpecOps themselves. Quite what the others do is anyone's guess. What IS known is that the individual operatives themselves are mostly military or ex-police and slightly unbalanced. 'If you want to be a SpecOps, 'the saying goes, 'act kind of weird.'" The Eyre Affair

Come thou day in night

Well, I'm finally graduated. I still have to take all my summer classes to be truly finished, but I still got to walk. It was a good ceremony, long - very, very, long - but good non-the-less. My party was on Sunday (thank you to all of you who showed) and it was a lot of fun. Food, friends, and a frisbee always equal a good time. I still have to write my thank you notes to everyone who showed, but I really don't feel like doing that right now. I don't really feel like doing anything. I feel really strange, I don't really want to be in my apartment, but at the same time I don't want to go to my parent's house. That feels like home, but at the same time it also feels more like a place of tension than anything else. Seattle is beautiful as it always is, but with Heather here for the summer it doesn't feel right either. I guess I'm just feeling very quiet and solitary. I just get like this sometimes, probably just me going through withdrawal from being around so many people on Saturday and Sunday.

I have so much to do this summer it's crazy how I'm supposed to get it all done. I always get it done, but this is just nuts. I'm reading a book and a half a week as well as writing a paper every week, and this is in addition to daily three hour statistics class I'm taking until July 7th, and then my astronomy class which is two weeks at the end of Aug. So, I have to get all of that done, pack all my stuff up and move out of my apartment and get ready for my surgery. Whew, that's a lot to do. blah.

come night, come love; come thou day in night
for thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
whiter than new snow on a raven's back
come, gentle night; come, loving black-browed night
give me my love and when I shall die
take him and cut him out in little stars
and he will make the face of heaven so fine
that all the world will be in love with night
and pay no worship to the garish sun - Juliet 3.2.17-25