As an office assistant in a fairly quiet part of campus, I inevitably have a lot of time on my hands, for better or worse. I fill it with Greek homework and amazon.com searches among other things, but today I stumbled upon the English department's course schedule at Loyola...and oh, did it make me homesick.
I'm into my second semester of graduate school now, studying biblical languages and histories of Christianity and methods for effective ministry in the real world, but today I am longing for my warm, cozy spot in the Monroe Library with all my dear old friends, the well-worn volumes that sit heavy on those dusty shelves. There's something so appealing to me about the literary world, an escape into another time or life or situation that I cannot help but miss. Sure, I can do all the side reading I want...after all, I live alone and am the boss of me. It's not the same, though. I miss that distinctive scent of Bobet Hall, binding glue, chalk dust, and over-practiced literary angst. I miss diving into the worlds of Austen and Rushdie and Shakespeare. I miss being an English major.
It's not that I don't love where I am now. I may be a little restless, but I'm happy for the most part. I just missed the comfortable feeling of discomfort when reading something new, if that makes any sense.
Maybe I should be studying library sciences instead of divinity. Maybe.
2 comments:
"Sure, I can do all the side reading I want...after all, I live alone and am the boss of me."
I was hoping you were going to throw in the old "I'm an American" thing, but you didn't.
It's my duty to disappoint. Maybe next time I'll change it up and not disappoint you...so that I inevitably will still be disappointing you. Ah, the beauty of circular logic!
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