So for the record, this is not a Valentine's Day post. I have neither violent distate nor sworn affection for the day, so I won't waste time writing about it.
Instead I want to write about getting old. I was sitting in the study of a good friend today and noticing the way she has everything laid out: very airy and open, lots of beige and blues, sort of a natural beachy feel to the room. Her desk is maid of glass, and there's a light lacey blanket across the chair. Even her bulletin board is very (I hate the word but can't think of anything else suitable) minimalistic...clean lines, ocean views, quotes from Camus and Emerson and Thoreau. And it made me realize that I'd really like that. Not necessarily the study itself (although I'm a fan...it's very brain-inducing), but getting to a point in my life where I can sit calmly in an airy study and reflect on things.
I feel so rushed right now, like I have to cram whole worlds of knowledge into my head just so I can spit them out in a paper and then forget I ever "learned" them...and I HATE that. Don't get me wrong. I absolutely love school, and I'll be heartbroken to leave behind the university life. I even love the intense rush of learning so many things at once. I just wish I had a little more time, a little more fluidity. As it is, I've probably had more fluidity than most in my education considering I maxed out my electives pretty quickly. I just feel like sometimes I'm only getting to see a few little pegs instead of the whole Lite Brite board...I want to swallow the world.
I guess to get to a point of calm reflection and study, I have to do quite a bit more living. And I'm okay with that. More than okay. I'm a super big fan of life. Just sometimes I get a little wistful (and more than a little nerdy...haha).
I'm off to wrinkle my brain up some more. Reading Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I'm a fan.
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