Life in a Bubble

Photo can be found here

When I was in school at St. John's, there was some talk of "the Johnnie bubble", as if there was an invisible forcefield surrounding our tiny little campus. And in a way, I think there was, a forcefield of ideas and lack of interest in what was happening in the world at large. Of course, there are always exceptions - not everyone was unaware of what was happening around us while we read the words of long-dead thinkers and talked about them in the shower, at dinner, and in class.

I admit I was firmly inside that bubble, not caring much about what was going on in the city outside SJC, let alone the state, country, and world outside of that. Inside a "bubble" there's a real sense that the things happening outside it are semi-dreamlike, a little unreal, and they certainly don't effect you or your world. Everything is distant and removed from you.

It wasn't until I was serving in my very last area in Korea on a mission - another very real type of bubble - that this view got substantially challenged. I started to think about that way of life, living like all the things outside your immediate sphere don't have much import or effect. And as with all other real thinking, it started snowballing into a reconsideration of how I'd fundamentally viewed the world to that point.

Bubbles are dangerous. Living in a bubble has disastrous effects on everything from your personal relationships to the economy of your country, depending on the size of that bubble you live in. When we cozily draw our comfortable, "normal" worldview around us and tuck ourselves into its warm, enveloping folds, we close our eyes and ears and hearts to the suffering and struggles of millions, even billions of people. We turn everyone outside it into "others" who become stereotypes and sometimes even less than human, or worst of all, simply vague concepts that aren't really that important in the grand scheme of things. We close ourselves off from new ideas, new ways of examining our problems, from the very experience we've been sent here to obtain. We rob ourselves of the opportunity to grow and become better people; we deny ourselves opportunities to love and serve our fellowmen. We do ourselves a horrible injustice, because what happens around us certainly does impact us. A web of choices and consequences connects your decision to purchase a certain item in one country to the dramatic altering of a person you've never met's life in another country. What you do matters. What other people do matters to you, or it should, because it effects you.

All you have to do to prove that is to examine history. Do you think people in America really gave much of a thought to an assassinated Archduke somewhere over in Europe in 1914? Probably not. Probably the majority of Americans didn't even know it had happened. And yet, the consequences of that one action - and all the actions that preceded that decision to act - had a terrible, tremendous impact on Americans then and are still effecting us even to this day. You have a stake in internal politics in China. The economic situation in Europe is effecting you right now. They may seem far off and remote, but life has a way of making a mountain out of a molehill.

Or maybe it's only our perception that makes one a mountain and another a molehill. The thing about bubbles is they have a disturbing tendency to pop.

Photo can be found here

Nothing and Too Much to Say

CN Blue - 사랑빛 (Lovelight)

Have you ever thought too much? I liken the feeling to trying to untangle a ball of yarn. The more you try to straighten everything out, the more tangled and complicated it all gets until you just want to hurl the whole mess as far away from you as you possibly can. The upshot of the whole thing is that even though I have so much on my mind, I really have nothing to say. Only old problems getting hashed and rehashed in my head until I just want to cover my ears, jump up and down, and scream. Unfortunately, that's not very productive. It doesn't accomplish much at all. Or anything, for that matter.

Recently I've been wondering why I'm here in Logan. Academically, obviously I'm here to finish school (finally!), but the thing about life is there's never just one reason for anything. Take SJC for example. Ostensibly I went to Annapolis to fulfill a dream I'd had since high school of attending St. John's. But I think the real reason I went there was to have the experiences I needed to decide to go on a mission, which was an important part of my development and growth as a person. And of course I met many wonderful people who have influenced me in many positive ways. Not to mention I gained a unique kind of education that I couldn't have gotten anywhere else or in any other way. And I fell in love with the East Coast and its sense of history. I learned a lot from my years in Annapolis. So...why am I here at USU? What am I supposed to be learning from this experience? Maybe it's too early to tell. After all, I didn't move to Annapolis expecting any of the outcomes that actually arose. Maybe my problem is that I moved here with certain expectations and those things haven't happened. I thought I was coming here for one reason and maybe that's not the reason at all. But then, what is it? I wish I knew. 

"But behold, my joy is full, yea, my heart is brim with joy"*

MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

But being too happy in thine happiness,

that thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,

In some melodious plot

Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

                                                   - John Keats, from Ode to a Nightingale

Keats' Ode to a Nightingale was the last poem we read in my language class my sophomore year at SJC. After we'd talked about the other stanzas for a while, my tutor drew our attention back to the first one, the one quoted above, and asked us to explain the lines "'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, / But being too happy in thine happiness". There was silence for a few moments as no one felt brave enough to venture an answer. As the silence stretched to the point where it was starting to become awkward, someone finally said something, and a brief discussion ensued. But none of my classmates seemed to be hitting on the feeling that those lines inspired in me, and most admitted they had no idea what he was talking about.

I don't know whether the feeling Keats describes is a function of experience, or of passion, or maybe some combination of both. At the time, it seemed to me that at some point everyone experiences that feeling -- a feeling so overwhelming, so all-encompassing, that it tips from pleasure into something that is almost pain. But when I attempted to express that to my classmates, all I got in return were uncomprehending expressions. Only my tutor was nodding in understanding and agreement.

Class ended soon after, and all sixteen of us shoved our chairs back from the scarred wooden table with loud scrapes, spilling into the spring sunshine in laughing knots of two or three. But the memory of that class, and of that question, has stayed with me, and every once in a while comes up the surface of my mind to be reexamined and mused over. Why is it that none of my classmates knew the sensation Keats was trying to describe? Were they just too young? Most were barely twenty, if that. Had they just not had the opportunity yet? Again, their relative youth might explain that, and time might fix it. Or was it a matter of passion? Had lives of comfort and little challenge, of immediate gratification and too much time in front of the TV robbed them of sensation Keats was trying to communicate?

I don't really know the answer to my question. I have an idea that the real answer lies in some combination of all of those things; but I think that passion is the key. Passion is what elevates moments of mediocrity to sublimeness, what makes ordinary things extraordinary and regular people more than just the sum of their parts. But along with the highs come the lows, and I think most people are too afraid of the inevitable tumble from the heights of joy into the depths of sorrow to ever attempt the climb. They stay safely in the middle, hugging the average, never feeling too much pain, but never knowing much of joy, either. It is a tragic choice, I think, one that robs the world of much that it could be. Of course, unrestrained passion is more hurtful than it is of any benefit; but that is not what I am talking about. I'm talking about the courage to pay the price, to be willing to experience great sorrow to experience those moments of transcendent joy that teeter on the edge of pain, those moments when your heart is so full that it feels like it might burst, and you feel like shouting and singing and telling the whole world at the top of your lungs that everything is beautiful and wonderful. It is worth it for those moments, I think. It is worth it for those moments of perfect sadness, even, for those moments when your heart is breaking but at the same time so full of a lesson you never could have learned otherwise that you wouldn't have avoided the sorrow if you'd had the chance.

*Alma 26:11

A Lot of Catching Up

I haven't posted much in the last few weeks, have I? Not for lack of news, but more for lack of motivation, I think.

The biggest news is that I was accepted to Utah State University for the spring 2011 semester, meaning that I will be moving out to Utah in January and (hopefully!) graduating three semesters after that. If not, well. There are worse things than taking eight years to finish your undergraduate, I suppose. I try to ignore the fact that some of my friends will be graduated with their Master's degrees before I even get my undergraduate. Life isn't a race, right?

I'm sad to leave Annapolis. I'm even sad to leave St. John's. I have to admit, it pains my pride a little to graduate from USU. SJC would have looked better, but after I humbled myself some, I realized that there are more important things in life. Like, spending time with my family. Or getting married and starting a family. Or even, just doing what you want to do and not paying to do something you don't. But I do love this place; I'll miss the water, the gorgeous fall leaves, the sense of history and the quaintness that is here. And the people. The people most of all.

I do feel very good about this decision, however. At first, back at the beginning of September, when I was still in school but hating it and contemplating withdrawing, I was so worried about the decision and its implications that I could barely sleep. I waffled between I can't take another minute of this I have to withdraw NOW and But what if I don't get accepted anywhere else? I'll be stuck and unable to graduate, with loans to pay for and no place that will hire me. The worry and indecision followed me around like a cloud, a cloud with wispy fingers that curled around every thought. I labored under the cloud for a few days, until I was almost crazy from the uncertainty of my future. And then one morning, someone randomly said something offhandedly, and the answer to my prayers came all at once, rather like the proverbial sun breaking through the clouds. It's funny how the Lord works like that; so often the answers we need come through other people at the time we're least expecting it. My testimony of prayer and the fact that the Lord answers prayers has been strengthened considerably through that experience; and so it serves a double purpose, not only as the answer I needed but also as a testimony to me that the Lord hears and answers my prayers. The Lord's nothing if not efficient.

Sophomore Essay Statistics

Begun: 

24 March 2010

Completed: 

29 March 2010

Topic: 

A comparison of fear and love, specifically as they apply to the relationship between a ruler and his subjects

Title: 

“WHETHER IT IS BETTER TO BE LOVED OR FEARED”: 

An Investigation of the Relationship Between a Prince and His People

16 pages

12.5 font

3,872 words

Number of nights up past 3 am:

All of them (four total)

Number of meals skipped:

five

Latest bedtime:

9:36 am, on 29 March

Total hours of sleep since 24 March:

20

Sense of relief after finally printing it out:

PRICELESS

Peace of Mind

Now that I've made a decision about what I'm going to do this summer, I feel much better. I'm going home right after the end of the semester, until I leave for Korea in the middle of June. I'll be there for two months, and then I'm coming back to SJC. Barring any unforeseen circumstances (like an asteroid hitting Annapolis), I'll be finishing my degree here. After that -- who knows? Maybe off to Korea to get a Master's degree, maybe I'll teach there for a year before coming back...maybe I'll be married. Maybe all of those things! (I'd like that best.)

The Semester Ends: The Saga Begins

Well, the title is as good as any, I guess. It worked for Twilight, it can work for me. *cheeky grin*

Here I am, at almost three in the morning, updating my blog because my roommate is still packing and I'm procrastinating going to bed because I know 625 is going to come awfully early. I know, it doesn't make any sense, but there you have it. I think I shall patent it and call it "AnnMarie Logic", sell it and get rich. Sounds great, huh?

I'm glad this semester has come to an end. It's been a hard one for me, in various ways. I've never been a particularly self-motivated person, but this semester has seen me reach new heights of sinking to the depths of procrastination and self-gratification. I need balance. I need to get used to my life the way it is now. It's crazy: I feel like I went on a mission as a teenager with not too many cares and came back to a world where everyone expects me to act like an adult. Is that what I am? I don't feel like one. I still want my mommy to take care of everything for me. Maybe part of it is being a sophomore when most of my high school classmates are graduated or graduating.

I had my don rag today. It went pretty well, actually. Better than my freshman ones, I think. I think I'm a better student in class this time around, though I didn't really try at all this semester. Think how much better I could do if I really tried! My Greek tutor was very impressed by how quickly I got up to speed in that class. I can't take much credit for that, honestly; it's mostly due to a website called Perseus and A. T. Murray's translation of The Odyssey. Still, I'm not a total moron. But he was right to call me out for not being prepared enough sometimes, because it's definitely true that my translations weren't my first priority. Well, not my translations of Greek, anyway. I won't comment on the amount of time I spent doing "language study" this semester. It's probably better left unsaid.

I'm glad to be going home. But somehow, it's just won't be the same, I know.




*sigh*

The Hardest Part of College...

...is motivating yourself when you really don't want to do anything.

Welcome Back, AnnMarie!

Today is my first Saturday as a college student in over two years. I can hardly believe it! I'm so excited to be back. I'm even almost excited to be swamped with homework this weekend, too. (Almost.) It is weird not being in class with the people I know, though. In that way, it's kind of like being a freshman all over again, but it's nice that I get to see my friends at all. My friends who went on missions from the Naval Academy came back to most of the people they knew being gone altogether. So I'll count my blessings and be glad that I get to see so many of my friends again.

Move-in was Tuesday. Boy! It took me five trips to get everything from the apartment I was staying in to my new dorm room, and I had to haul everything up two flights of very steep stairs to boot. Thankfully, on the fourth trip (that was my very heavy suitcases) a girl sitting on a bench at the top of the hill saw me and came running down the walk to ask if she could help me. She then proceeded to haul my suitcase all the up the hill, to my dorm, and then to my actual room -- and she did it in two-inch heels. I was very impressed, and very thankful, too. Her name was Lydia, and she's a sophomore, so maybe I'll see her again. In any case, I hope something very nice happens to her this week.

a blurry shot of my dorm room

Our first class of the year is always seminar, our history/philosophy/literature class. This year, being a sophomore, I started with Genesis 1-11. It was an interesting class discussion; we spent most of the time hung up on what it means to be naked, and why Adam and Eve would eat the forbidden fruit and then hide themselves because they were naked. We didn't even get to talk about Noah and the flood at all, or even the Tower of Babel. The whole time, I was so grateful for the light of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and for the fact that I didn't have to worry about not having the answers to these questions. Because of restored truth, I don't have to worry about the seeming contradictions in the creation stories of Genesis 1 and Genesis 2. I don't have to worry that (supposedly) God seems to be different in those chapters, or wonder why the snake was even talking to Eve in the first place. I know what it means that Adam and Eve were created in the image and likeness of God. I know that the Fall wasn't an accident, but a necessary piece of a larger plan, created so that we can return to our Heavenly Father and become like Him, and live with our families forever (see this website for a more complete explanation). And I'm grateful for my experience as a missionary, because it gave me the patience and the perspective I needed to make it through that discussion without becoming discouraged or getting angry. Ah, the Lord really does know what He's about, and He prepares us for the trials we will face in our lives.

Next time: Why Greek and I don't get along so well after two intervening years studying Korean.

A Week Out

A week ago today I left home for the third time in three years. I must say, I was much more excited about it when I left three years ago than I was this time around. But when I got here this last Sunday evening after visiting with my aunt for the weekend, I was happy to be "home".

Truly, I've greatly missed Annapolis and all her charms. I'd forgotten how different the East Coast is from the South. The pace is different. The people are different. Part of that is because I live in a huge tourist attraction; and especially this time of year, there are tourists crawling all around downtown Annapolis. (Thankfully most of them avoid SJC -- I guess we're not as "cool" as the Naval Academy. Or at least we're not as impressive to look at, lacking the sharp, tailored uniforms of the midshipmen.) Of course, some of that can be accounted for in the disparate sizes of Annapolis and Martin -- Annapolis is more than five times the size of Martin -- but some of it definitely is an intangible air that comes with being more than 300 years old and surrounded by the Chesapeake. And of course, there's the veneer and subtle arrogance of wealth here that is noticeably lacking in a small town.

Last night I had an hour-and-a-half-long discussion with my roommate that would have sent most people screaming from the room after only fifteen minutes, assuming they could have made heads or tails of what we were talking about. Ah, Johnnies! What a breed apart you are -- not because you're necessarily any better, but because you're so deliciously different from the rest of the world. Where else could you debate Kant's principle of non-contradiction at eleven-thirty at night? Where else would someone under the age of forty even know what that was? Where else would you find 18- and 20-year-olds more likely to be discussing the philosophies of long-dead Greeks than the latest Hollywood gossip? Where else would you find students willing to go to class at eight pm, and voluntarily go to a lecture on Friday night? There's not much of the practical and concrete at SJC, but that's one of the reasons I love it. There's a dark side to it, too, but for today I'm content to just enjoy the bright side.

(And thank you to this website for the pictures of the Naval Academy (top) and St. John's (bottom, it's the dorm where I used to live.))