The general, all-encompassing word that comes to mind for my state of mind when attempting to design a strategy for making it through my methods class is just this:

overwhelming

But I shall devise a strategy. There will be a strategy for the critique and a strategy for the lab and I will plod through this mess.
And in the meantime, I will bake as much as is necessary to calm my nerves.

• popcorn, check.
  
• regular bread, check.
• focaccia bread, check.
• cookies - tbd.
  

Semester's Goal

Love is patient
love is kind
it does not envy,
it does not boast.
Love is not proud,
it is not rude
it is not self-seeking.
Love is not easily angered,
keeps no record of wrongs,
love does not delight in evil,
but rejoices in the truth.
Love always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.

And I shall endeavor to love Dr. B., such that I may send her an e-mail at the end of the semester, saying as much, and expressing my hope that it has, at least partially, made up for the stupidity, cheating, and misconduct she endured last semester. As very, very difficult as that may be.
signed,
E.O.

Unreasonable Wishes

I made a mistake a few weeks ago. I pulled my favorite notebook ever out of storage, where I had kept it, thinking "I could use it again, someday".
Why is this a mistake, you're wondering. After all, she is using it, as she had intended to, instead of leaving it stored in some random spot forever and a day.
You see, the problem is- I LOVE this notebook. In my estimation, it is just the way a notebook should be: a heavy, brightly colored cardboard cover, wirebound with a single spiral of wire, pleasantly thick pages with a colorful border, divided into 5x5 mm squares in which to write- so that if, on some occasion, you feel you'd rather write in a landscape rather than portrait orientation, you are free so to do.

If you divide them up into their elements, that makes eight specifications. Had I known when I bought this notebook, how rare it is to find all of those qualities together in this way, I would have bought several more of them for later use.
So I've been doing something silly. I've been looking online for this particular brand and specification of notebook. Apparently, this brand originates in France, and the particular variation of notebook to which I have so irrationally become aesthetically attached is sold only in Spain. The brand doesn't even sell outside of Europe. At all. And the notebooks themselves are made in the countries in which they are sold (I guess at least I have a good nose for home-grown products? xD). Moreover, they cost a pretty penny now - though as I recall, I got the one I currently own, as well as one other of its kind for quite cheap.
Sigh. And there ends my dream of buying ten of these lovely little creations and just having them shipped over here so that I don't have to run out when this one poor, left-over specimen is filled.
:P
After all, this is a new country, and they do things differently here. It's really just sort of funny to me that I feel about these notebooks how I used to feel about peanut butter or waffles.
peace.
~E.O.

dream big (?)

i have been developing a bucket list. this is it so far:

1. see the aurora borealis. in person.*
2. learn how to blow glass fairly well.*
3. build an igloo.*
4. See Stonhenge in person.
5. Breed beta fish, just once.
6. Go to mass in the Sagrada Familia
7. travel to: Madagascar*, Iceland, Australia*, Korea, the Ivory Coast, Mongolia. For starters.
8. learn how to whittle/carve
9. see the California redwoods. (done!)

The ones with * are the ones I'm most adamant about. This MUST happen before I die.

doltishness

::For a summary of this entry (if you'd rather not hear me whine) skip to the last sentence::

The older I get, the more I realize how much of a dolt and an idiot I really am. This amazing phenomenon alternately called time and age is also teaching me that there isn't anything that spectacular or special about me - except perhaps my particular brand of idiocy.
What sparks these reflections, you ask? Among other things, my inability to articulate what a confound variable is, or why it is difficult to be objective in Psychology; my inability to understand the terms functionalism and Functionalism, how they connect, and how to apply them to different scenarios; and my inability to answer the question of whether or not Functionalism would be an adequate way of describing cockroach intelligence.
My brain feels muddled and slow compared to that of my peers, which is not usually the case- and I didn't even know it had gotten that way! Ugh! Mind you, I realize that the above are not the easiest, most commonplace tasks in the world, but it's not like I haven't been exposed to those ideas! I had gone into those classes Prepared. I had done the homework. I had done the readings. I just couldn't keep up with the verfluchte lectures.
But I am wondering if perhaps I am simply out of practice because of vacation, or if I hadn't prepared enough. Or is it a matter of habits of thinking, am I more used to different types of mental exercise? Or is my brain really getting duller as time passes?

Ahem. What it boils down to is that I just despise feeling stupid or not "getting it".
good gracious, this is going to be an interesting semester.
over 'n out.
E.O.

If thou could'st empty all thyself of self

"If thou could'st empty all thyself of self,
Like to a shell dishabited,
Then might He find thee on the ocean shelf,
And say, 'This is not dead',
And fill thee with Himself instead.

But thou art all replete with very thou
And hast such shrewd activity,
That when He comes, He says, 'This is enow
Unto itself - 'twere better let it be,
It is so small and full, there is no room for me."

By Sir Thomas Browne

This has been quite on my mind lately. Read it in "A Ring of Endless Light" by Madeleine L'Engle once upon a time.

Stumped

I'm stumped. As the title of this post so elegantly puts it.
I spent several days at the beach, and collected a whole keel-full of shells. I think they are some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I can (apparently - this is a recent discovery) sit on the floor for hours just organizing and re-organizing them into categories - just for the excuse of handling and looking at them.
And having brought them back and having nothing useful to do with them, I want to give them to my friends so that they can share in the beauty of them. Only I have realized, from past endeavors of this sort, that not everybody cares for shells as much as I do.
So I have a dilemma. Do I just give a shell to everybody, and hope that, even if they don't like the shell, they'll appreciate the gift/thought? Or do I attach a note explaining what I think about the shells? I couldn't figure it out. I even typed up a sample note. See?

"You may or may not like shells as much as I do- you may not care much about them at all. So let me explain. If I'm giving you these shells, it's both because I have seen something of divine design in you, and because that has made my life more beautiful. They are for you because I want you to remember that.

Some of the shells are whole, some broken. I call the broken ones "beautiful pieces" - because even the shell of a shell is beautiful, both with the original beauty and a new one that comes from being broken.

So- I hope you like the shells for their own sake."

But I just can't bring myself to spend all that postage-money if people won't care? Maybe? But then I get so caught up in seeing how beautiful they are that I can't imagine someone not being absolutely delighted on opening their mailbox and seeing a seashell in it. Sigh.
Don't worry, H and Ms, you're getting some, no matter what I decide about everyone else.