 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
I've made it through another week of craziness, and I've kept my head above water. At the same time, I've made it through another week without working on my dissertation even the least. I guess every victory comes with a defeat. Tomorrow morning, though, is prime time for dissertation time. I'm hoping to get into work early again and pound out some things. If nothing else, I want to read a lot and take some notes to get my mind going in the right direction.
Thus far (and this usage is limited) my World Geography class is going okay. I always forget how, with a new class, you kind of have to fly by the seat of your pants because no amount of planning ever truly suffices. I am working hard to ensure at least a decent experience for all 111 students. We'll keep tracking that.
The classes I am taking are also going pretty well, I think. I haven't missed a point in either, yet, which is generally to be expected. They're also both relatively interesting, which is good because I was pretty worried going into a class outside of my discipline.
Kory & Amy fed us delicious walking tacos tonight. Of course, I was quite biased by the fact that walking tacos were what i had talked my tastes into several hours earlier, making the dinner as perfect as a dinner could be. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that they were of high quality, I'm just pretty sure that my mind amplified that to obscene levels. It's weird how the mind can do that.
I also need to grow some metaphorical testicles and decide what to do with the dissertation advisor thing. It's mostly a formality since I kind of want to lean hard on the majority of my committee, but... I need to decide whether I'm going to keep Tom, change to Jim, or have both as co-advisors. It's delicate because I don't want to step on toes and burn bridges. However, it's probably far less delicate a situation than what I've worked it into in my head.
I'm excited for Sunday. Sunday is part four of the Great Quaker Experiment (which, if I have more days like last Sunday is remarkably close to being called a success) and a potluck communal dinner, a longstanding regular Quaker tradition. I'm scared to be social, but I have to go to know more about this path. I'm honestly looking forward to it, though. It's probaby just the excitement of newness.
I feel good enough about Quakerism that I'm planning this week to write a letter formally resigning my membership at my parents' church in Muncie. I never really agreed to join it, per se. See, my membership belonged to my parents' crazy old church even after I refused to attend following the eighth grade. When they moved during my junior year of college to a new church, they moved my membership with them. And there it's stayed, even though I've attended the new church maybe a dozen times total and now live five hours away. Lutherans are kind of crazy about holding on to memberships. The church I grew up in boasted more than 600 members, but only 150 ever showed up.
Anyway, I'm planning to resign this church to prepare for joining one by my own choice, should things come to that. They might not, but I think it's a good step to take in preparation. Besides, it's nothing more than a formality anyway. I'm hoping to give my parents a heads up first to let them know. Since my dad is president of the congregation, I think it's something he might hear about.
I do wonder how Amy feels about the whole Quaker thing, since it's pretty far removed from her brand of church. I know, though, that she won't discourage me since I'm actually embracing some form of organized religious communities for the first time since the eighth grade, or twelve years for those of you keeping score at home. Luckily, since we're planning to not have kids, religious consensus and congruence isn't absolutely necessary. I will always respect her path to God, even if it's not the same as mine... as long as I don't have to participate beyond giving her general support.
My hair smells like campfire. I remember when I used to smoke clove cigarettes, they would make my lips taste like my hair smells right now. It was a nice sensory experience (sight, smell, touch and taste) that Kory presented us with when he started a fire in their firebox thing. The smell reminds me of simpler times, camping trips with family back when we tolerated each other better, perhaps out of necessity and survival.
I will now fall asleep to smelling my hair, like a slightly disturbed person. And I will find comfort in it, like a slightly disturbed person.
The classes I am taking are also going pretty well, I think. I haven't missed a point in either, yet, which is generally to be expected. They're also both relatively interesting, which is good because I was pretty worried going into a class outside of my discipline.
Kory & Amy fed us delicious walking tacos tonight. Of course, I was quite biased by the fact that walking tacos were what i had talked my tastes into several hours earlier, making the dinner as perfect as a dinner could be. Don't get me wrong, I have no doubt that they were of high quality, I'm just pretty sure that my mind amplified that to obscene levels. It's weird how the mind can do that.
I also need to grow some metaphorical testicles and decide what to do with the dissertation advisor thing. It's mostly a formality since I kind of want to lean hard on the majority of my committee, but... I need to decide whether I'm going to keep Tom, change to Jim, or have both as co-advisors. It's delicate because I don't want to step on toes and burn bridges. However, it's probably far less delicate a situation than what I've worked it into in my head.
I'm excited for Sunday. Sunday is part four of the Great Quaker Experiment (which, if I have more days like last Sunday is remarkably close to being called a success) and a potluck communal dinner, a longstanding regular Quaker tradition. I'm scared to be social, but I have to go to know more about this path. I'm honestly looking forward to it, though. It's probaby just the excitement of newness.
I feel good enough about Quakerism that I'm planning this week to write a letter formally resigning my membership at my parents' church in Muncie. I never really agreed to join it, per se. See, my membership belonged to my parents' crazy old church even after I refused to attend following the eighth grade. When they moved during my junior year of college to a new church, they moved my membership with them. And there it's stayed, even though I've attended the new church maybe a dozen times total and now live five hours away. Lutherans are kind of crazy about holding on to memberships. The church I grew up in boasted more than 600 members, but only 150 ever showed up.
Anyway, I'm planning to resign this church to prepare for joining one by my own choice, should things come to that. They might not, but I think it's a good step to take in preparation. Besides, it's nothing more than a formality anyway. I'm hoping to give my parents a heads up first to let them know. Since my dad is president of the congregation, I think it's something he might hear about.
I do wonder how Amy feels about the whole Quaker thing, since it's pretty far removed from her brand of church. I know, though, that she won't discourage me since I'm actually embracing some form of organized religious communities for the first time since the eighth grade, or twelve years for those of you keeping score at home. Luckily, since we're planning to not have kids, religious consensus and congruence isn't absolutely necessary. I will always respect her path to God, even if it's not the same as mine... as long as I don't have to participate beyond giving her general support.
My hair smells like campfire. I remember when I used to smoke clove cigarettes, they would make my lips taste like my hair smells right now. It was a nice sensory experience (sight, smell, touch and taste) that Kory presented us with when he started a fire in their firebox thing. The smell reminds me of simpler times, camping trips with family back when we tolerated each other better, perhaps out of necessity and survival.
I will now fall asleep to smelling my hair, like a slightly disturbed person. And I will find comfort in it, like a slightly disturbed person.
Posted by Your Friendly Neighborhood DJ on February 2, 2007 01:26 AM | Permalink
Share this entry:
