I've been doing something a little unfair for several years now: while referring to myself and selected people under pen names, I've simply referred to many people by their real names, though I've tried to use first names only.
If you've got a problem with being called by your real name, please get a hold of me somehow (you might not want to just comment, unless you're tagging yourself by your pen name within that comment) and let me know what I should call you instead. It's easy (for me, 'cause I'm admin...not just your average QPQ reader) to search within my archives for every instance of your name popping up, so I can do that and then just change it wherever I find it. It may not help you stay anonymous among my current readers, but it'll give you a better shot for the new ones, if you care about that (I'm thinking of inviting a couple more Alfredians onto this, sort of retroactively), not to mention among anyone who just happens to stumble upon this blog against the dominant odds.
To clarify, this blog address is private, so people can't find it through regular Blogger listings/searches, but a) Google does cache certain pages of it, so if someone were to get particularly lucky in an obscure search, they could technically find it that way; and b) Ananda's blog, I believe, is public, and I happen to be among her links, so even though it's not the biggest chance, there's one that some random person could find her blog, and from there wander over here.
Therefore, yeah, if you'd like to be called something other than what you are, please let me know.
-Laurel
9.29.2007
Whoa! Academic optimism! What is the deal?!
I've been worried about my creative-nonfiction project on folk dancing because I didn't think I'd necessarily know how to create "something at stake for the reader" without having to make controversy where I found none, or make it into a big question of cultural anatomy, or something like that.
But having read the responses I've gotten so far to the self-written folk dance survey I sent many of the Alfredian folk dancers (this's exactly I wanted to start with them-::much love::--instead of the Syracuse/Binghamton people, very nice though those guys are), you know what? I think it's going to work. I think that the project is going to end up complex, but genuine, and hopefully full of love and upbeatness and hope, just like folk dancing itself tends to be.
Heh. Pray God I'm right, or the disappointment's going to be even more intense than it was back when I thought this was going to be a disaster.
-Laurel
But having read the responses I've gotten so far to the self-written folk dance survey I sent many of the Alfredian folk dancers (this's exactly I wanted to start with them-::much love::--instead of the Syracuse/Binghamton people, very nice though those guys are), you know what? I think it's going to work. I think that the project is going to end up complex, but genuine, and hopefully full of love and upbeatness and hope, just like folk dancing itself tends to be.
Heh. Pray God I'm right, or the disappointment's going to be even more intense than it was back when I thought this was going to be a disaster.
-Laurel
Mental Wanderings
For my first-ever month of not having a meal plan or a nearby parent and therefore being entirely in charge of my own food consumption, I haven't done so badly. Scheduling has been a problem a few times, so I have in fact had some days that involved buying overpriced campus sandwiches, supplementing undersized lunches with vending-machine M&Ms because I'm not going to get dinner until almost 8, etc. And I discovered today, to my surprise, that all I'd eaten between my 9ish AM wakeup and 6 PM dinner was Goldfish crackers. On the whole, however, I think I've done a decent job of keeping a varied diet and not eating significantly too much or little. I do feel, though, like I should place more emphasis on produce, kind of decrease that considerable percentage of my diet which is salted carbohydrates.
As I type that, however, I'm finishing a large bowl of cereal...having finished off the last of the Goldfish crackers shortly therebefore. Ah, well, tomorrow's another day.
* *
Annie Dillard once wrote, brilliantly, "Never, ever, get yourself into a situation where you have nothing to do but write and read. You'll go into a depression."
And I believe wholeheartedly that she's right. It's only the things outside of class that've been keeping me together, and I'm not even mostly writing and reading, I feel like. Mostly, this week, I did stuff with church or IV. But Monday through Wednesday, in particular, were bad: I was under a lot of stress and very angsty, particularly about the English grad program. I don't know, it's just been a frustrating process; often I can't even explain well why I dislike my classes so much. I just do. They're so different from what I expected and wanted English to be. And what I want to do with my life is still very much up in the air.
So Wednesday, culminating in the incident described two entries below this one, was the last bad day, but not the last eventful one...I've had a couple of adventures since, unrelated to Wednesday's. They're not all my stories to tell yet, but the last few days have done a good job of taking me out of myself a little more and giving me ways to serve other people a bit. And that's helped me to recognize that Joe, who did his best over AIM to talk sense into me on Wednesday when I wanted least to hear it, is right. I'm apparently here in Binghamton for good reasons, and rather than withdraw and subsist, I'm supposed to be expending a bunch of effort and loving everybody in every best way that I can, and I'm supposed to expect victory in some form, even if it's not any form I can guess at from right here.
So I think class is still going to be miserable a lot--and here comes October, so actually having papers to write and presentations to give will make it even more so at times--how well I deal with that, we'll see--but I'll be here anyway, trying to, through God and by His grace, make something out of it. Prayer/support/hellos always appreciated; I'll try to return the favor.
In closing, I'm so glad to be loved here. IV and church are both wonderful and have gone out of their ways to make sure I feel like I've got support. I've come to dislike that word, support; it's overused. But that's what it is, a support system. How cliched. And how gorgeous.
-Laurel
As I type that, however, I'm finishing a large bowl of cereal...having finished off the last of the Goldfish crackers shortly therebefore. Ah, well, tomorrow's another day.
* *
Annie Dillard once wrote, brilliantly, "Never, ever, get yourself into a situation where you have nothing to do but write and read. You'll go into a depression."
And I believe wholeheartedly that she's right. It's only the things outside of class that've been keeping me together, and I'm not even mostly writing and reading, I feel like. Mostly, this week, I did stuff with church or IV. But Monday through Wednesday, in particular, were bad: I was under a lot of stress and very angsty, particularly about the English grad program. I don't know, it's just been a frustrating process; often I can't even explain well why I dislike my classes so much. I just do. They're so different from what I expected and wanted English to be. And what I want to do with my life is still very much up in the air.
So Wednesday, culminating in the incident described two entries below this one, was the last bad day, but not the last eventful one...I've had a couple of adventures since, unrelated to Wednesday's. They're not all my stories to tell yet, but the last few days have done a good job of taking me out of myself a little more and giving me ways to serve other people a bit. And that's helped me to recognize that Joe, who did his best over AIM to talk sense into me on Wednesday when I wanted least to hear it, is right. I'm apparently here in Binghamton for good reasons, and rather than withdraw and subsist, I'm supposed to be expending a bunch of effort and loving everybody in every best way that I can, and I'm supposed to expect victory in some form, even if it's not any form I can guess at from right here.
So I think class is still going to be miserable a lot--and here comes October, so actually having papers to write and presentations to give will make it even more so at times--how well I deal with that, we'll see--but I'll be here anyway, trying to, through God and by His grace, make something out of it. Prayer/support/hellos always appreciated; I'll try to return the favor.
In closing, I'm so glad to be loved here. IV and church are both wonderful and have gone out of their ways to make sure I feel like I've got support. I've come to dislike that word, support; it's overused. But that's what it is, a support system. How cliched. And how gorgeous.
-Laurel
9.27.2007
Supplement to the Previous
This morning I realized that part of something I said last night was incomplete. Rev. Matt's explanation starts with the assumption that the Gospels in themselves are reliable historical documents. If you're not sure you're on board with that, the best assistance I can offer is here, since obviously I can't ask everyone to go out and read The Case for Christ or another such book that tackles the question more fully.
-Laurel
-Laurel
Focus Group
Okay.
Who knows, what's coming may well be the most unpopular link I ever put up, at the end of the most unpopular post I ever write.
But let me explain.
The church I've joined here in Binghamton is Anglican--the denomination that in America is called the Episcopal Church, sometimes abbreviated ECUSA. I don't know why Americans go under a different name; being fairly new to Anglicanism (it's mostly just church traditions, not points of doctrine, that're different from other denominations), I'm not really sure what the deal is there, or whether there's any historical difference between the two at all.
But anyway, according to Reverends Matt and Anne, the intelligent, witty, truth-and-grace-balancing husband-and-wife team that runs Church of the Good Shepherd (they are, this semester, my two biggest human heroes), our church isn't an Episcopal church per se so much as an Anglican church, because right now there's a lot of false teaching within the ECUSA.
It brings in human sexuality, yes, but human sexuality is not the point. The crux of the disagreement is whether the Bible should be followed as it was originally written or not--which is explained, in much better words than mine, at the beginning of the link I'm providing at the bottom of this entry. In brief, that's largely why the Anglican "Worldwide Communion"--Anglican and Episcopal bishops and archbishops from all over the world--met this past week...they're trying to get a consensus on how to understand the sexuality teachings and speak on them with one voice. Right now, that one voice is not really coming together, which is why there's talk of the Anglican church breaking up (though I think reports are probably sensationalizing the matter at least a little).
Dr. Strehle brought this up in Fictions of Diaspora today because we're reading a novel called Funny Boy, a fictionalized account of a young gay Sri Lankan boy watching, decades ago, the Sinhalese/Tamil conflicts create havoc within his country. She had us discuss as a class what it was that the adults in the story found so threatening about potential homosexuality in children (the boy is caught dressing up as a bride in a pretend wedding that he and his cousins are putting on, and while the children are only treating this as a game, the adults overreact--that's my term, by the way; it's really dumb how seriously they take it--and see it as a harbinger of the boy turning out "funny" if something isn't done). The general class consensus seemed to be that this was solely a question of culture and usefulness--people reacting against something for which they couldn't find a practical use, fearing what they didn't understand.
And from there Dr. Strehle brought up the Anglican split and went on a sort of tirade about people "sitting behind white picket fences" and trying to legislate other people's sex lives. I don't remember her exact phrasing, but please believe me when I say that I wasn't reading into it: she didn't seem to understand that some people object to this on half-decent moral, not just cultural, grounds. (And incidentally, I realize that whether Christians should attempt to legislate morality for the rest of the country is a fair question. I think that most of the time, possibly including here, we shouldn't, but I'd rather tackle only one big issue per entry, so I'm not going to touch it here.) I've been a part of Good Shepherd for a month now, and I cannot stress enough how dedicated everyone is to following things because they're actually Biblically right, and this through going back to the Greek when necessary, double-checking everything to make sure it's really what we think it is. And when subjected to good scholarship, Biblical text stands as written, sometimes translated a bit more figuratively than the unbending literalists would have it (I think this accounts for our being cool with female priests, since their basis for this is also Biblical, but again, that's a topic for some other day), but never with the freedom to do whatever simply seems progressive.
I didn't say all that in class; after all, it's an English class, not a seminary. All I did was try to explain that I myself was coming out of an Episcopal church (that's what we still are officially; I figured it'd take too long to explain the official/unofficial thing...I'm sorry if that comes off as misleading), and that the conflict stemmed not out of knee-jerk tradtion, but out of two opposing ways to read the Biblical injunctions against homosexual behavior. I didn't say which one I followed; I only said that this was an actual moral question for them--I was trying to imply that I thought her connection between the story and current events was inapplicable, not to say a bit out of line in its blanket scorn.
I expected her to acknowledge that it was a more complex issue than we'd been making it sound and then go back on-topic, but Dr. Strehle proceeded to tell me that the Biblical writers didn't have a modern understanding of sexuality, and that, in fact, the Bible didn't prohibit homosexual acts, actually.
Leave off for a second the argument that the Old Testament laws have been scrapped since Jesus's crucifixion; that's a different point. What she gives is an argument that none of the laws ever forbade the behavior. Which, if you follow the aforementioned link (or, if you don't plan to do that, just stay with me long enough to consult Romans 1 on BibleGateway.com or in a Bible of your own), you'll see spelled out as simply incorrect. So all I said, rather startled, was, "Well, it does, but let's leave that for another time." Because again, this was an English class, and I didn't want to be the kid trying to turn it into a religious debate, yet I couldn't just let that comment slide because I knew it was incorrect.
Here another girl, whom I'll call Jane, broke in. Jane is not a big fan of Christianity--and quite understandably, for reasons I'm not going to share. Jane said, "No, it doesn't. I have a lot of Biblical background--never thought I'd need it--and while it says 'a man shall not lie with a man,' it never says anything about females."
All I really knew how to do, at that point, was stare at her confusedly, because that was in direct opposition to what I'd been taught from the Greek. Not only did I not really know how to explain that (haha, is anyone here really surprised that I'm not up on my Greek sexual terms?), but my silence was apparently construed as concession, because the discussion finally went elsewhere.
I am human and therefore more hurt (mainly for vain reasons) and frustrated (for ending up against my will in a sort of debate, and for being inhibited--both by my own ignorance and the circumstances--from explaining things properly) about this incident than I should be, but I am trying to understand and to respond in a way that's right (if any of the way I've told that story is bitter or otherwise out of line, please tell me so that I can correct it or at least apologize for it). I'm used to people assuming that my faith is wrong, but at least honestly-held. I thought that bothered me, but it bothers me more to be told that my opinions aren't even honest ones, that I haven't even bothered to know what I believe.
So, please, hear me out on this: the following is an explanation--done by Reverend Matt, no less--of the traditionally-Biblical side of this story...why we believe the Bible is still true after all these centuries, why we aren't just people who don't understand alternate choices, what the common arguments on our "own ground" are (why people think we're misunderstanding our own holy text, and why we're actually not). If you want to give a studied Christian opinion a fair shot, read it. If not, then don't. If you have further arguments, I can try to get you explanations if you truly want them.
I apologize if any of this comes off as insulting; that's not my intention. I don't forget that many homosexuals, bisexuals, and members of other sexual definitions often do a far better job of carrying out Christian commands than do actual Christians. (Someday before God each of us will have to give an account, and may He have mercy on us.) I know it kind of feels like that should justify leaving the LGBT community to their own views, but in actuality that's not the case, so we can't in good conscience stay completely silent on this.
All I can do is offer you the best explanation I know and hope that you at least agree that some Christians' opinions are honestly held. Thank you for reading this far.
On Human Sexuality and the Bible
-Laurel
Who knows, what's coming may well be the most unpopular link I ever put up, at the end of the most unpopular post I ever write.
But let me explain.
The church I've joined here in Binghamton is Anglican--the denomination that in America is called the Episcopal Church, sometimes abbreviated ECUSA. I don't know why Americans go under a different name; being fairly new to Anglicanism (it's mostly just church traditions, not points of doctrine, that're different from other denominations), I'm not really sure what the deal is there, or whether there's any historical difference between the two at all.
But anyway, according to Reverends Matt and Anne, the intelligent, witty, truth-and-grace-balancing husband-and-wife team that runs Church of the Good Shepherd (they are, this semester, my two biggest human heroes), our church isn't an Episcopal church per se so much as an Anglican church, because right now there's a lot of false teaching within the ECUSA.
It brings in human sexuality, yes, but human sexuality is not the point. The crux of the disagreement is whether the Bible should be followed as it was originally written or not--which is explained, in much better words than mine, at the beginning of the link I'm providing at the bottom of this entry. In brief, that's largely why the Anglican "Worldwide Communion"--Anglican and Episcopal bishops and archbishops from all over the world--met this past week...they're trying to get a consensus on how to understand the sexuality teachings and speak on them with one voice. Right now, that one voice is not really coming together, which is why there's talk of the Anglican church breaking up (though I think reports are probably sensationalizing the matter at least a little).
Dr. Strehle brought this up in Fictions of Diaspora today because we're reading a novel called Funny Boy, a fictionalized account of a young gay Sri Lankan boy watching, decades ago, the Sinhalese/Tamil conflicts create havoc within his country. She had us discuss as a class what it was that the adults in the story found so threatening about potential homosexuality in children (the boy is caught dressing up as a bride in a pretend wedding that he and his cousins are putting on, and while the children are only treating this as a game, the adults overreact--that's my term, by the way; it's really dumb how seriously they take it--and see it as a harbinger of the boy turning out "funny" if something isn't done). The general class consensus seemed to be that this was solely a question of culture and usefulness--people reacting against something for which they couldn't find a practical use, fearing what they didn't understand.
And from there Dr. Strehle brought up the Anglican split and went on a sort of tirade about people "sitting behind white picket fences" and trying to legislate other people's sex lives. I don't remember her exact phrasing, but please believe me when I say that I wasn't reading into it: she didn't seem to understand that some people object to this on half-decent moral, not just cultural, grounds. (And incidentally, I realize that whether Christians should attempt to legislate morality for the rest of the country is a fair question. I think that most of the time, possibly including here, we shouldn't, but I'd rather tackle only one big issue per entry, so I'm not going to touch it here.) I've been a part of Good Shepherd for a month now, and I cannot stress enough how dedicated everyone is to following things because they're actually Biblically right, and this through going back to the Greek when necessary, double-checking everything to make sure it's really what we think it is. And when subjected to good scholarship, Biblical text stands as written, sometimes translated a bit more figuratively than the unbending literalists would have it (I think this accounts for our being cool with female priests, since their basis for this is also Biblical, but again, that's a topic for some other day), but never with the freedom to do whatever simply seems progressive.
I didn't say all that in class; after all, it's an English class, not a seminary. All I did was try to explain that I myself was coming out of an Episcopal church (that's what we still are officially; I figured it'd take too long to explain the official/unofficial thing...I'm sorry if that comes off as misleading), and that the conflict stemmed not out of knee-jerk tradtion, but out of two opposing ways to read the Biblical injunctions against homosexual behavior. I didn't say which one I followed; I only said that this was an actual moral question for them--I was trying to imply that I thought her connection between the story and current events was inapplicable, not to say a bit out of line in its blanket scorn.
I expected her to acknowledge that it was a more complex issue than we'd been making it sound and then go back on-topic, but Dr. Strehle proceeded to tell me that the Biblical writers didn't have a modern understanding of sexuality, and that, in fact, the Bible didn't prohibit homosexual acts, actually.
Leave off for a second the argument that the Old Testament laws have been scrapped since Jesus's crucifixion; that's a different point. What she gives is an argument that none of the laws ever forbade the behavior. Which, if you follow the aforementioned link (or, if you don't plan to do that, just stay with me long enough to consult Romans 1 on BibleGateway.com or in a Bible of your own), you'll see spelled out as simply incorrect. So all I said, rather startled, was, "Well, it does, but let's leave that for another time." Because again, this was an English class, and I didn't want to be the kid trying to turn it into a religious debate, yet I couldn't just let that comment slide because I knew it was incorrect.
Here another girl, whom I'll call Jane, broke in. Jane is not a big fan of Christianity--and quite understandably, for reasons I'm not going to share. Jane said, "No, it doesn't. I have a lot of Biblical background--never thought I'd need it--and while it says 'a man shall not lie with a man,' it never says anything about females."
All I really knew how to do, at that point, was stare at her confusedly, because that was in direct opposition to what I'd been taught from the Greek. Not only did I not really know how to explain that (haha, is anyone here really surprised that I'm not up on my Greek sexual terms?), but my silence was apparently construed as concession, because the discussion finally went elsewhere.
I am human and therefore more hurt (mainly for vain reasons) and frustrated (for ending up against my will in a sort of debate, and for being inhibited--both by my own ignorance and the circumstances--from explaining things properly) about this incident than I should be, but I am trying to understand and to respond in a way that's right (if any of the way I've told that story is bitter or otherwise out of line, please tell me so that I can correct it or at least apologize for it). I'm used to people assuming that my faith is wrong, but at least honestly-held. I thought that bothered me, but it bothers me more to be told that my opinions aren't even honest ones, that I haven't even bothered to know what I believe.
So, please, hear me out on this: the following is an explanation--done by Reverend Matt, no less--of the traditionally-Biblical side of this story...why we believe the Bible is still true after all these centuries, why we aren't just people who don't understand alternate choices, what the common arguments on our "own ground" are (why people think we're misunderstanding our own holy text, and why we're actually not). If you want to give a studied Christian opinion a fair shot, read it. If not, then don't. If you have further arguments, I can try to get you explanations if you truly want them.
I apologize if any of this comes off as insulting; that's not my intention. I don't forget that many homosexuals, bisexuals, and members of other sexual definitions often do a far better job of carrying out Christian commands than do actual Christians. (Someday before God each of us will have to give an account, and may He have mercy on us.) I know it kind of feels like that should justify leaving the LGBT community to their own views, but in actuality that's not the case, so we can't in good conscience stay completely silent on this.
All I can do is offer you the best explanation I know and hope that you at least agree that some Christians' opinions are honestly held. Thank you for reading this far.
On Human Sexuality and the Bible
-Laurel
9.25.2007
Two comics I've been meaning to post
Both of them are old, but I find them worth it. That second one, incidentally, is a picture I took in Alfred's Science Center last fall. I know that two of those sets of manually-added initials stand for Drs. DeGraff and Toot, but who's the one with the ink rings around his eyes? Sorry for the blurrage; I think I was already familiar with that particular comic in its untouched form, but I know not all of you will necessarily be.
-Laurel
-Laurel
9.21.2007
Ho-hum, momentous changes in punctuation...
My mom sent me this, but I say, let the British whine: here in America, most of those words haven't been hyphenated in years.
On the other hand, I believe that one of their quotes, "People are not confident about using hyphens anymore, they're not really sure what they are for," is a comma splice. Shouldn't it be a semicolon after "anymore"?
Unrelatedly, I decided last night to make latkes for dinner tonight; I've got two large potatoes and should use at least one. I'd forgotten that tonight is Yom Kippur, so that turns out to perhaps be an appropriate choice anyway.
-Laurel
On the other hand, I believe that one of their quotes, "People are not confident about using hyphens anymore, they're not really sure what they are for," is a comma splice. Shouldn't it be a semicolon after "anymore"?
Unrelatedly, I decided last night to make latkes for dinner tonight; I've got two large potatoes and should use at least one. I'd forgotten that tonight is Yom Kippur, so that turns out to perhaps be an appropriate choice anyway.
-Laurel
9.20.2007
Free English-geek books!
Whoa. Does anyone want some free, often-scholarly English books? There're piles upon piles of old free ones in the English grad office here, and we're supposed to just take them if we want them. Among the things I've seen:
-Norton introductions to poetry and fiction
-A whole short book analyzing Gerard Manley Hopkins's "The Windhover"
-C.S. Lewis's Beyond Personality (Part II of the radio series that eventually got combined into Mere Christianity)
-More medievalia than you can shake a stick at
-More linguistics-related books than any one person should possess
-Philosophical(/metaphysical?) writings, both general collections and texts by a few major figures
-Various guides to writing
-A book on the Bloomsbury Group
-A bunch of individual works by various famous authors
Basically, if there's something or someone vaguely old and famous in the humanities in which/whom you're interested, let me know and I'll take a look if that sounds like it even might be there. There're too many free books there, in all their impressive glory, for me to let them get stored who-knows-where.
-Laurel
-Norton introductions to poetry and fiction
-A whole short book analyzing Gerard Manley Hopkins's "The Windhover"
-C.S. Lewis's Beyond Personality (Part II of the radio series that eventually got combined into Mere Christianity)
-More medievalia than you can shake a stick at
-More linguistics-related books than any one person should possess
-Philosophical(/metaphysical?) writings, both general collections and texts by a few major figures
-Various guides to writing
-A book on the Bloomsbury Group
-A bunch of individual works by various famous authors
Basically, if there's something or someone vaguely old and famous in the humanities in which/whom you're interested, let me know and I'll take a look if that sounds like it even might be there. There're too many free books there, in all their impressive glory, for me to let them get stored who-knows-where.
-Laurel
9.16.2007
Adrift
I'm back from Alfred (since late Thursday night...I was kept longer than I'd planned, but was quite happy about it) and just now back from the annual English-grad fall party. It was all right. I drank Sprite and ate English-majory food (seriously, are all academia-oriented parties required to provide crackers and artful dips? Not that they aren't delicious, but they're so ubiquitous that I can't help but be amused) and talked to Ph.D students I already vaguely knew from classes (actually, I think Ban's just an MA, but it's her second year). Josh and Jose undertook to come up with something interesting I could do for my creative-nonfiction project, as Dr. Heywood seemed rather unimpressed with the topic I proposed over e-mail today (not folk dancing--that's going to be my next try--but something else, which is too complicated to explain just as part of this sentence, so never mind it anyway). Josh says that the easiest way to get her interest is to do something nature-oriented or anti-capitalistic...great, 'cause I know so much about both of those. I explained that I wasn't very good with anything controversial, that my life is really fairly boring, though I like it that way. They think the folk dancing one has potential if I can use it to talk about culture, especially where international/domestic gets fuzzy (that is, something like Troika, a very well known "Russian" dance that really began in California). I know that, but the problem is how to phrase it when I ask.
I also learned, to my dismay, that the department is, as a body, extremely theory-oriented. "Well, there's Gayle Whittier," Josh had noted as an exception, "but she's kind of the outcast of the department. See, she just doesn't do theory at all. She does close reading--and that's valid, but they just don't pay any attention to her."
So basically, everyone at Alfred, save maybe Dr. Ryan, would run up against the same problem.
And I also learned that there's no framework whatsoever to help out new TAs. No education classes, essentially no guidelines...you kind of just get your 20 students and teach them basic English. You don't even get anyone observing you unless you specifically ask for it, and even then, it apparently only happens once in a longish while. I like privacy, but that seems a little--almost neglectful, really.
I just wish I didn't dislike all my classes. Some of the reading is enjoyable--creative nonfiction's tends to be fine; Diaspora's is mostly okay. Theory's is even more awful than I'd anticipated, but at least I didn't come in with high expectations. But I don't have any fun in classes. I always feel stupid talking, and I don't really talk all that much. It's just not what I've known English to be. For the first time in my life, I'm almost hoping for low grades, to prove that I'm really not cut out for this, that I should do something else. I'm not sure whether I want things to get better or not.
At the party, people were talking literature, sometimes with theory, sometimes without. As far as I can remember, I didn't recognize any of it. It's been a recurring theme during my three weeks here--everyone else seems to recognize everything we do. But I never do. Every book sounds new, every name sounds famous but not familiar. I seem to have shockingly-little breadth in literature.
Yet Alfred's program wasn't a poor one. And I'm stubbornly proud of their total incompatibility with Binghamton, their close reading and slightly-out-of-date preferences and opinions, their inability even at Phi Beta Kappa inductions to take any grandeur fully seriously. If I could find someone here like Mayberry--but who on earth, in Binghamton, could get away with teaching like Mayberry, all in roundabout stories, wandering across the text, with you never knowing until you went to write the essay that, in fact, you'd learned much more than you'd expected?
If this doesn't get better, I don't know how I'm going to last here until spring of '09. Maybe I'm not.
-Laurel
I also learned, to my dismay, that the department is, as a body, extremely theory-oriented. "Well, there's Gayle Whittier," Josh had noted as an exception, "but she's kind of the outcast of the department. See, she just doesn't do theory at all. She does close reading--and that's valid, but they just don't pay any attention to her."
So basically, everyone at Alfred, save maybe Dr. Ryan, would run up against the same problem.
And I also learned that there's no framework whatsoever to help out new TAs. No education classes, essentially no guidelines...you kind of just get your 20 students and teach them basic English. You don't even get anyone observing you unless you specifically ask for it, and even then, it apparently only happens once in a longish while. I like privacy, but that seems a little--almost neglectful, really.
I just wish I didn't dislike all my classes. Some of the reading is enjoyable--creative nonfiction's tends to be fine; Diaspora's is mostly okay. Theory's is even more awful than I'd anticipated, but at least I didn't come in with high expectations. But I don't have any fun in classes. I always feel stupid talking, and I don't really talk all that much. It's just not what I've known English to be. For the first time in my life, I'm almost hoping for low grades, to prove that I'm really not cut out for this, that I should do something else. I'm not sure whether I want things to get better or not.
At the party, people were talking literature, sometimes with theory, sometimes without. As far as I can remember, I didn't recognize any of it. It's been a recurring theme during my three weeks here--everyone else seems to recognize everything we do. But I never do. Every book sounds new, every name sounds famous but not familiar. I seem to have shockingly-little breadth in literature.
Yet Alfred's program wasn't a poor one. And I'm stubbornly proud of their total incompatibility with Binghamton, their close reading and slightly-out-of-date preferences and opinions, their inability even at Phi Beta Kappa inductions to take any grandeur fully seriously. If I could find someone here like Mayberry--but who on earth, in Binghamton, could get away with teaching like Mayberry, all in roundabout stories, wandering across the text, with you never knowing until you went to write the essay that, in fact, you'd learned much more than you'd expected?
If this doesn't get better, I don't know how I'm going to last here until spring of '09. Maybe I'm not.
-Laurel
9.11.2007
Decision
So after theory class and then discussion this afternoon (2:50-5:50, all told), I'll have the entire rest of the week off for Rosh Hashanah. And I really don't have much in the way of work. And I don't really have anyone to hang out with--the apartmentmates, maybe, but we've made no plans, and they might have work they want to do tonight or something. And after theory, I'm going to want something happy in my life, instead of a long stretch of isolation.
So--whyever not?--I'm going to Alfred as soon as class lets out. I made sure I wouldn't be a nuisance; I know very well that I'm an alum now and ought to behave like one, so it's not like I'm going to do this a whole lot. (I'd also like to point out, in my own defense, that Chris and non-grad-Tim have both been back already!) I'll catch folk dancing, stay over with Emily, and see what tomorrow holds; I'll probably leave that afternoon or evening, but who knows, it depends on what everyone's schedules are like.
Yaaaaay!
-Laurel
So--whyever not?--I'm going to Alfred as soon as class lets out. I made sure I wouldn't be a nuisance; I know very well that I'm an alum now and ought to behave like one, so it's not like I'm going to do this a whole lot. (I'd also like to point out, in my own defense, that Chris and non-grad-Tim have both been back already!) I'll catch folk dancing, stay over with Emily, and see what tomorrow holds; I'll probably leave that afternoon or evening, but who knows, it depends on what everyone's schedules are like.
Yaaaaay!
-Laurel
Missing
I guess I'll find out just how well I backed up my private files.
I've had sort of a personal folder on probably every Windows-98-and-up computer that's been in my room (whether or not it was solely my computer...for a long time it wasn't, hence the creation of said folder in the first place)--it's been transferred from one machine to the other. I've stored story files there, AIM conversations I found important (AIM keeping its own chat logs is a fairly-recent thing, remember, and even the version I run now doesn't do it)--basically anything I wanted to keep to myself. It was the safest place to hide them, to create my own space where a nosy sibling (who'd broken into my story files before) and potentially-curious parents couldn't pry.
Yet I'd hidden it within the system, and when my computer went a few weeks ago to be fixed, whether or not the tech guy recognized it as a foreign folder or simply didn't notice it at all, it must have been wiped. It's gone.
Which is strange, since he didn't mention the necessity of deleting anything from my computer, important or trivial. He replaced the power supply. He put in more RAM. Neither of those, to my knowledge, should have touched that area. But I don't know enough about computers to say for sure.
I do have a backup CD somewhere in one of my boxes that should contain everything that was there as of the Service Pack 2 upgrade. I've still probably lost everything more recent than that, but it should account for the most important files.
But I have to find said CD soon, and hope it works.
-Laurel
I've had sort of a personal folder on probably every Windows-98-and-up computer that's been in my room (whether or not it was solely my computer...for a long time it wasn't, hence the creation of said folder in the first place)--it's been transferred from one machine to the other. I've stored story files there, AIM conversations I found important (AIM keeping its own chat logs is a fairly-recent thing, remember, and even the version I run now doesn't do it)--basically anything I wanted to keep to myself. It was the safest place to hide them, to create my own space where a nosy sibling (who'd broken into my story files before) and potentially-curious parents couldn't pry.
Yet I'd hidden it within the system, and when my computer went a few weeks ago to be fixed, whether or not the tech guy recognized it as a foreign folder or simply didn't notice it at all, it must have been wiped. It's gone.
Which is strange, since he didn't mention the necessity of deleting anything from my computer, important or trivial. He replaced the power supply. He put in more RAM. Neither of those, to my knowledge, should have touched that area. But I don't know enough about computers to say for sure.
I do have a backup CD somewhere in one of my boxes that should contain everything that was there as of the Service Pack 2 upgrade. I've still probably lost everything more recent than that, but it should account for the most important files.
But I have to find said CD soon, and hope it works.
-Laurel
9.10.2007
On My Room in the Apartment Here
I'm not a big fan of the idea that our unconscious selves are forever bringing into our lives, in masked forms, things we know but try to hide. Yet my decor gave me pause last Saturday, just as September began.
If you'd asked me, I think I'd have said that I wasn't homesick anymore--for a while now the truest definition of the word "home" has been Alfred, but I didn't really miss any of the places I know best. Carrie and the new church (and I will give more detail on Good Shepherd soon) had shown enough warmth on my second day in town to stave off despair, when I realized midweek that I hardly had anyone to talk to, until Friday. On Friday, InterVarsity-Binghamton filled me with amazingness and introduced me to Nicole, Katy, and Esther, plus any number of potential future friends. And even folk dancing, that Thursday, had not been shabby, despite my being the only student (but after Syracuse, I was used to that).
Nevertheless, looking around, I realized that my walls, thus far, had a fairly-distinct travel theme. Over my computer is the bus schedule so that I know when to get off my computer to catch the next ride to campus for class. Over my dresser is the London poster that I got for Christmas sophomore year. And over my bed is my recently-purchased, 1728-square-inches-and-then-some world map, mentioned a couple of posts ago. The other pieces of useful decoration were all schedules--class, Harpur Palate reader times, IV Bible studies--which, while Binghamton-related, still carry a certain sense of leaving for someplace else.
While I stayed on my bed, doing homework or talking to friends, my walls were screaming unpremeditatedly that I would rather be somewhere else, almost anywhere else.
It wasn't true, but once I thought about it, I couldn't forget it. I did more decorating this weekend, trying to cover some of the empty white wall space. A couple of things are fairly connotation-free: my new bookshelf (I also brought the one I've had for the last couple of years, but its overflow filled about another shelf and a half, so I went to Wegmans, where I got the last one, and fixed the problem), my calendar. At least one is of ambiguous meaning: my copy of "40 Years Before the Class," a short magazine piece of Dr. Strong's that he shared with us in FYE, and which I like enough to keep it posted up by the calendar. Then there are the postcards--one that might have been from an Alfred senior art show, two from the London trip, and one each given me from Aneya, Ananda, and Daf. Some of them were about remembering the past, some just because I liked the way they looked.
The others, I admit, were undertaken deliberately to honor the things I miss most. Last night I bought a map of Western New York; tonight I cut it up, removing Monroe and Allegany Counties, the inset map of Alfred (funny in its simplicity), and the Dansville-Hornell-Canisteo area of Steuben. I stuck them on my back wall, over the new bookshelf. And over the original bookshelf are photos of my friends in pairs (what I mean is, each photo happens to feature exactly two of my friends, and I'm hoping not to repeat people as I put more up).
So the travel theme lives (though an odd motif for any space of mine), and sometimes I mean it, and sometimes I don't.
There's a sort of problem with it, though. I find myself hoping that pictures of, say, Meir and Marion will join the doubles wall, and soon; and there's so much space left over by the maps that aesthetically it sort of begs for cutouts of Syracuse and Binghamton, too. It wouldn't work to try to block off Alfred and Rochester, my chosen homes, as a separate longed-for world. There's too much space.
Too much space, and too much time left here.
-Laurel
If you'd asked me, I think I'd have said that I wasn't homesick anymore--for a while now the truest definition of the word "home" has been Alfred, but I didn't really miss any of the places I know best. Carrie and the new church (and I will give more detail on Good Shepherd soon) had shown enough warmth on my second day in town to stave off despair, when I realized midweek that I hardly had anyone to talk to, until Friday. On Friday, InterVarsity-Binghamton filled me with amazingness and introduced me to Nicole, Katy, and Esther, plus any number of potential future friends. And even folk dancing, that Thursday, had not been shabby, despite my being the only student (but after Syracuse, I was used to that).
Nevertheless, looking around, I realized that my walls, thus far, had a fairly-distinct travel theme. Over my computer is the bus schedule so that I know when to get off my computer to catch the next ride to campus for class. Over my dresser is the London poster that I got for Christmas sophomore year. And over my bed is my recently-purchased, 1728-square-inches-and-then-some world map, mentioned a couple of posts ago. The other pieces of useful decoration were all schedules--class, Harpur Palate reader times, IV Bible studies--which, while Binghamton-related, still carry a certain sense of leaving for someplace else.
While I stayed on my bed, doing homework or talking to friends, my walls were screaming unpremeditatedly that I would rather be somewhere else, almost anywhere else.
It wasn't true, but once I thought about it, I couldn't forget it. I did more decorating this weekend, trying to cover some of the empty white wall space. A couple of things are fairly connotation-free: my new bookshelf (I also brought the one I've had for the last couple of years, but its overflow filled about another shelf and a half, so I went to Wegmans, where I got the last one, and fixed the problem), my calendar. At least one is of ambiguous meaning: my copy of "40 Years Before the Class," a short magazine piece of Dr. Strong's that he shared with us in FYE, and which I like enough to keep it posted up by the calendar. Then there are the postcards--one that might have been from an Alfred senior art show, two from the London trip, and one each given me from Aneya, Ananda, and Daf. Some of them were about remembering the past, some just because I liked the way they looked.
The others, I admit, were undertaken deliberately to honor the things I miss most. Last night I bought a map of Western New York; tonight I cut it up, removing Monroe and Allegany Counties, the inset map of Alfred (funny in its simplicity), and the Dansville-Hornell-Canisteo area of Steuben. I stuck them on my back wall, over the new bookshelf. And over the original bookshelf are photos of my friends in pairs (what I mean is, each photo happens to feature exactly two of my friends, and I'm hoping not to repeat people as I put more up).
So the travel theme lives (though an odd motif for any space of mine), and sometimes I mean it, and sometimes I don't.
There's a sort of problem with it, though. I find myself hoping that pictures of, say, Meir and Marion will join the doubles wall, and soon; and there's so much space left over by the maps that aesthetically it sort of begs for cutouts of Syracuse and Binghamton, too. It wouldn't work to try to block off Alfred and Rochester, my chosen homes, as a separate longed-for world. There's too much space.
Too much space, and too much time left here.
-Laurel
9.07.2007
(addition to the previous)
I didn't want to make this the main link because I know the Times is always finicky with me about whether it decides to load (especially after the story isn't fresh anymore), and I was trying to avoid it doing something similar to my readers. But for those who'd appreciate, as I did, a biographical sketch of L'Engle (not to mention the definitive pronunciation of her name):
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/08/books/07cnd-lengle.html?hp
-Laurel
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/08/books/07cnd-lengle.html?hp
-Laurel
::silent::
...in honor of Madeleine L'Engle, author of one of my two favorite Newberys ever. Carrie and Ife and I were just talking about Wrinkle on Sunday, and I'd been thinking just yesterday, as I rode home from class, of her theological writing. I admire the intelligence and confidence of her assertions that all truth is God's truth.
I'd noted with some surprise this summer how old she was, and wondered how long she had. She made a good use of her eighty-eight years.
-Laurel
I'd noted with some surprise this summer how old she was, and wondered how long she had. She made a good use of her eighty-eight years.
-Laurel
9.05.2007
Things I Didn't Expect to Be Writing About
I'm tired: after staying up too late last night, I got up at 8:15 this morning for a 9:00 dentist...well, I thought it was going to be an appointment, but then it wasn't.
See, late on Sunday night (probably a little after finishing the blog entry), while I was flossing, a piece broke off of one of the fillings I'd gotten in May. (All I can say is, I didn't do it. The filling's been doing weird things since it was put in.) It doesn't hurt to've lost it, but it wasn't a tiny piece, either, so I need the gap fixed where it was. So I called Aspen Dental, which's where my family goes in Syracuse, and they suggested I just go to their Vestal branch, which happens to be right down the road. Pretty much the sole benefit of chain dentistry over independent offices, right? (Maybe it's also cheaper. I don't actually know.) So I called the Vestal people, who said--I think the phrase was, "You can come in tomorrow at nine."
Well, when I got there, the receptionists informed me of something that they hadn't clarified over the phone: that what I had was not actually an appointment, but basically just a suggested walk-in time. And walk-in patients are triaged. So, since my mouth wasn't bleeding all over their carpet, and since I'm not even in any pain (like, it's a little sore once in a while, but it's essentially just a gap and nothing more), I got sent to the very bottom of everything. "It's emergency-room style; it could be hours," they told me.
Ah. So I waited for two-and-a-half hours, trying at first to concentrate on Time and Sports Illustrated and to ignore the daytime shows on the waiting-room TV (I actually ran my iPod to drown out Dr. Phil because his show was so obnoxious). Around 10 AM, though, I ran out of decent magazines, and Rachael Ray's talk show (as opposed to one of her Food Network shows, that is) came on. So, since I hadn't a book and didn't want to drown out the receptionists and nurses as well as the TV, I succumbed to Rachael's perkiness (she would probably have made a very good OG) and watched her cook things with, of all people, John Stamos (Uncle Jesse from Full House, which was perhaps the first sitcom with which I was ever familiar--I remember loving it in kindergarten), and do other talk show things.
At one point during the whole Dr. Phil thing, a dental assistant had called me through and taken some x-rays of my mouth, and I thought she'd implied that she'd come back for me when those had developed, but clearly I'd misunderstood again. After the whole hour of Rachael Ray and about twenty minutes of The Price is Right (which I hadn't seen in years...I'd forgotten how very excited the contestants typically are), I went up to the counter and explained that I had a class today and couldn't stay any longer, and was there any way for me to get an appointment? And they answered, "No, we don't have any openings for new patients until November." "Okay. So I should keep coming back here and waiting as a walk-in?" "Yes."
Ah. They definitely hadn't explained all this over the phone yesterday (though now I know why the lady I got had sounded kind of like she didn't want to deal with me); perhaps I should have asked when I first came in. So I went back to the apartment and called the Syracuse Aspen Dental again and made an appointment there for Friday, when I don't have classes. In this case, a bird in the hand is definitely worth two in the bush, especially since I waited long enough this morning to drive up to Syracuse and about two-thirds of the way back. Besides, as it turns out, Sean is also coming home on Friday to get his teeth looked at (weird!), since he'll have to get the wisdom ones out sometime soonish. So it'll be a family reunited in Syracuse, at least for Friday night.
On a different note, looking outside this afternoon through the Library North windows by the coffee bar, I actually watched a fight break out and get resolved. Truth be told, it was simultaneously startling and funny, because the one guy tackled the other into some presumably-decorative foliage, and they fought there, their legs periodically sticking out from the shrub-things, which rustled with the motion. It looked a little like a cartoon. And when they left the shrubbery, they actually sat down next to each other, both streaked brown with dirt, and argued more civilly, their hands periodically flying as they motioned. I couldn't hear their voices through the window; I count that as a good thing.
Tonight, after the first night of Bible study (a source of both goodness and coincidences), I found Hyewon (that's how her name's spelled, turns out) in the kitchen making rice with a side of kimchee. We got to talking, and she got to asking me questions about Bible study, which led to her question, "How are churches different?" So I undertook a basic explanation of the differences between Catholicism and Protestantism, and the concept of "denominations" within Protestantism. I kept it short, and even in keeping it short probably said a little more than I really needed to. But that was sort of funny, too, even as it was other things.
So it's been an eventful day and night, and I'm going to sleep in tomorrow morning because class isn't until almost 3. The end.
-Laurel
See, late on Sunday night (probably a little after finishing the blog entry), while I was flossing, a piece broke off of one of the fillings I'd gotten in May. (All I can say is, I didn't do it. The filling's been doing weird things since it was put in.) It doesn't hurt to've lost it, but it wasn't a tiny piece, either, so I need the gap fixed where it was. So I called Aspen Dental, which's where my family goes in Syracuse, and they suggested I just go to their Vestal branch, which happens to be right down the road. Pretty much the sole benefit of chain dentistry over independent offices, right? (Maybe it's also cheaper. I don't actually know.) So I called the Vestal people, who said--I think the phrase was, "You can come in tomorrow at nine."
Well, when I got there, the receptionists informed me of something that they hadn't clarified over the phone: that what I had was not actually an appointment, but basically just a suggested walk-in time. And walk-in patients are triaged. So, since my mouth wasn't bleeding all over their carpet, and since I'm not even in any pain (like, it's a little sore once in a while, but it's essentially just a gap and nothing more), I got sent to the very bottom of everything. "It's emergency-room style; it could be hours," they told me.
Ah. So I waited for two-and-a-half hours, trying at first to concentrate on Time and Sports Illustrated and to ignore the daytime shows on the waiting-room TV (I actually ran my iPod to drown out Dr. Phil because his show was so obnoxious). Around 10 AM, though, I ran out of decent magazines, and Rachael Ray's talk show (as opposed to one of her Food Network shows, that is) came on. So, since I hadn't a book and didn't want to drown out the receptionists and nurses as well as the TV, I succumbed to Rachael's perkiness (she would probably have made a very good OG) and watched her cook things with, of all people, John Stamos (Uncle Jesse from Full House, which was perhaps the first sitcom with which I was ever familiar--I remember loving it in kindergarten), and do other talk show things.
At one point during the whole Dr. Phil thing, a dental assistant had called me through and taken some x-rays of my mouth, and I thought she'd implied that she'd come back for me when those had developed, but clearly I'd misunderstood again. After the whole hour of Rachael Ray and about twenty minutes of The Price is Right (which I hadn't seen in years...I'd forgotten how very excited the contestants typically are), I went up to the counter and explained that I had a class today and couldn't stay any longer, and was there any way for me to get an appointment? And they answered, "No, we don't have any openings for new patients until November." "Okay. So I should keep coming back here and waiting as a walk-in?" "Yes."
Ah. They definitely hadn't explained all this over the phone yesterday (though now I know why the lady I got had sounded kind of like she didn't want to deal with me); perhaps I should have asked when I first came in. So I went back to the apartment and called the Syracuse Aspen Dental again and made an appointment there for Friday, when I don't have classes. In this case, a bird in the hand is definitely worth two in the bush, especially since I waited long enough this morning to drive up to Syracuse and about two-thirds of the way back. Besides, as it turns out, Sean is also coming home on Friday to get his teeth looked at (weird!), since he'll have to get the wisdom ones out sometime soonish. So it'll be a family reunited in Syracuse, at least for Friday night.
On a different note, looking outside this afternoon through the Library North windows by the coffee bar, I actually watched a fight break out and get resolved. Truth be told, it was simultaneously startling and funny, because the one guy tackled the other into some presumably-decorative foliage, and they fought there, their legs periodically sticking out from the shrub-things, which rustled with the motion. It looked a little like a cartoon. And when they left the shrubbery, they actually sat down next to each other, both streaked brown with dirt, and argued more civilly, their hands periodically flying as they motioned. I couldn't hear their voices through the window; I count that as a good thing.
Tonight, after the first night of Bible study (a source of both goodness and coincidences), I found Hyewon (that's how her name's spelled, turns out) in the kitchen making rice with a side of kimchee. We got to talking, and she got to asking me questions about Bible study, which led to her question, "How are churches different?" So I undertook a basic explanation of the differences between Catholicism and Protestantism, and the concept of "denominations" within Protestantism. I kept it short, and even in keeping it short probably said a little more than I really needed to. But that was sort of funny, too, even as it was other things.
So it's been an eventful day and night, and I'm going to sleep in tomorrow morning because class isn't until almost 3. The end.
-Laurel
9.03.2007
Coming Attractions
Will blog more about this weekend, or so is my plan, when I'm not so tired. Right now I need to sleep, but I'll say this: I don't know if it would have helped, but I wish I'd known on Wednesday that my feeling isolated would be so short-lived. Thursday was pretty good, and every day since then I've been filled, top to toe, with interpersonal loveliness.
BASIC, freshman year, was made up (as far as I can tell) of truly Christian people, and I am glad to've known them. But IV has led me, directly and indirectly, into so many good things, both during the Alfred years and now here, that I'm convinced that my engine failure that bright Sunday morning, the one that brought me to IV, was God's way of leading me from good to better. Just think of what that means: even though my walk with Him wasn't being hindered by BASIC, He didn't want me just to be doing all right. He wanted to pour out the amazingness of college-student chapels, Christian professors saying smart and true things, staff homes always open, friendship-forming small groups, knowledge into how to better love God with my mind, storge expressed in the form of delicious food, a feeling that I was surrounded by people who cared for me, and a dozen other things I can hardly think of, through my fatigue-clouded brain, to name.
Carrie takes very seriously the logistics of running Binghamton's larger InterVarsity chapter. I've come to resent all unnecessary ceremony, bureaucracy, complication, etc. within organizations, so I'm taking her word for it that it's necessary. Still, I wish I knew how to tell her (assuming it was my place, being so new) not to worry. In the end, color-coded small groups are probably helpful; long-term chapter goals are probably helpful. But it's not because of said color-coded small groups that I thank God I landed in kind and capable hands. It's because of the wonderful, solid church she attends here (Binghamton's IV, unlike Alfred's does not do its own services) and has shown me to; and because several IV members went out of their way--during a function crawling with freshmen who may well be, in the grand scheme of things, far more logistically-important to the chapter than I will--to get to know me, out of what appeared to be genuine desire to do so, and one of them, Esther, even called me today to ask when a good time would be for us to get together for coffee/chai/whatever.
What I mean is, the systems are no more than tools to help people do what they're supposed to do--love God and try to serve the people they happen to come across. And I can't yet speak for the whole group all the time, but I know that last Sunday and Friday and today, Carrie and IV's leaders and the new church did a great job of both those things. If my experience is any indication, she may have less to worry about than she thinks.
-Laurel
BASIC, freshman year, was made up (as far as I can tell) of truly Christian people, and I am glad to've known them. But IV has led me, directly and indirectly, into so many good things, both during the Alfred years and now here, that I'm convinced that my engine failure that bright Sunday morning, the one that brought me to IV, was God's way of leading me from good to better. Just think of what that means: even though my walk with Him wasn't being hindered by BASIC, He didn't want me just to be doing all right. He wanted to pour out the amazingness of college-student chapels, Christian professors saying smart and true things, staff homes always open, friendship-forming small groups, knowledge into how to better love God with my mind, storge expressed in the form of delicious food, a feeling that I was surrounded by people who cared for me, and a dozen other things I can hardly think of, through my fatigue-clouded brain, to name.
Carrie takes very seriously the logistics of running Binghamton's larger InterVarsity chapter. I've come to resent all unnecessary ceremony, bureaucracy, complication, etc. within organizations, so I'm taking her word for it that it's necessary. Still, I wish I knew how to tell her (assuming it was my place, being so new) not to worry. In the end, color-coded small groups are probably helpful; long-term chapter goals are probably helpful. But it's not because of said color-coded small groups that I thank God I landed in kind and capable hands. It's because of the wonderful, solid church she attends here (Binghamton's IV, unlike Alfred's does not do its own services) and has shown me to; and because several IV members went out of their way--during a function crawling with freshmen who may well be, in the grand scheme of things, far more logistically-important to the chapter than I will--to get to know me, out of what appeared to be genuine desire to do so, and one of them, Esther, even called me today to ask when a good time would be for us to get together for coffee/chai/whatever.
What I mean is, the systems are no more than tools to help people do what they're supposed to do--love God and try to serve the people they happen to come across. And I can't yet speak for the whole group all the time, but I know that last Sunday and Friday and today, Carrie and IV's leaders and the new church did a great job of both those things. If my experience is any indication, she may have less to worry about than she thinks.
-Laurel