dying can be beautiful

This isn't a picture of Moscow. It's a random photo I found on the internet - I suppose of some cafe in Italy or a romantic place like that. But it is a very close picture of what Moscow looks like right now. Gorgeous. Drop dead gorgeous. Typically I find fall depressing. The world dies during the fall. The leaves sit on the ground getting soggy in the rain and the trees just stand there, exposed and shivering.

But this year has been different. There's been a sort of vibrancy and life in the air. The leaves are a spectacular array of gold and red and the absence of rain has left the piles of brightly colored leaves looking life crisp, fluffy carpets. That wasn't very poetic, but you get the point. Come to think of it, I don't think it's actually possible to be both crisp and fluffy at the same time. Let me ponder on that for a bit. Whatever texture it is, it makes me happy.

A quote to brighten your day:

For this reason, it is not appropriate for a young person to be a student of politics, since the young are inexperienced in the actions of life, while these are the things about which politics speaks and about which it reasons.

- Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics

My thoughts exactly. My biggest political beef at the moment is not so much the elections coming up, but which state I'll be voting in. I registered in Idaho for a recent local election, forgetting where my true loyalties lie. Washington needs me and I'm not there for her. *sigh*

for rachel (re: rev magazine)

The church has uncritically invited this logic of the free market into its own house through the through-going utilitarianism of the "church growth movement" and the uncritical adoption of management theory through a preoccupation with "leadership." We treat people like consumers, speak about "target audiences of the unchurched" and sell the gospel through means that cannot be differentiated from how any other commodity is sold in the marketplace.

- Introduction to Calculated Futures: Theology, Ethics, and Economics, D. Stephen Long and Nancy Fox

there was a cat

One of my roomies, Abby has a cat named Oui Oui. I call the small, tail-less creature Weise and said small, tail-less creature hates me for it.

A week or so before break, Weise fatally maimed a mouse that had wandered into our fair dwelling. The mouse crawled under the floor-boards and subsequently died. Our room now smells of rodent death and Weise stalks the deceased creature constantly, futile though it may be.

what else are breaks for?

I've been flipping through various blogs belonging to other wiser and more witty folks and have come to the conclusion that my blog is, to put it mildly, fairly dull. But I'm afraid that life will go on as it has before. Really interesting, insightful things go into my personal written journal, not online for all eyes to see. The boring stuff come here. Speaking of:

Yesterday I woke up to my mom's worried voice. "Are you ok? You've been sleeping all day." Glancing at my watch I discovered that it was past 5pm, and I'd been sleeping since noon, as I had done the day before, and the day before that, only that time it was for three hours, not five. My routine has been simple - go to the barn where I get to work outside with horses which is sheer luxury after two more months of NSA, come home, stare blearily at Traditio homework that should be read, glance over at the nice, soft pillow.... and the pillow wins. I'm getting geared up for next term.

Honest.

happiness is...

• Washing the dishes with a garbage disposal!! Loading dishes into an actual dishwasher is only half the novelty of getting to scrape food scraps directly into the drain. How amazing is that? Two months of hand washing dishes in a sink with no disposal. I felt guilty, but I enjoyed it.
• Breaking an actual sweat. Real sweat, induced by real physical effort. Complete bliss, let me tell you. Especially when it involves an absolutely sweet horse who is thrilled to be out working. Can life get any better?
• Having my hands smell like horse.

Yeah, I'm home.

quote

Equestrian art, perhaps more than any other, is closely related to the wisdom of life. The horse teaches us self-control, constancy and the ability to understand what goes on in the mind and feelings of another creature, qualities that that are important throughout our lives.

- Alois Podhajsky

three weeks ago...

I was in Seattle without a care in the world... no wait, that was eight weeks ago.

This has been, by far, the shortest term of NSA I have ever studied through. I have no idea where it went. It was a blur of pounding migraines, Greek vocabulary, the Iliad, Plato's Republic and music quizzes. Really, think about it. If you can get through the Republic and think "hmmm, that was quick," something weird is going on.

Case in point - Before our Greek written final this morning, Mr. Schwandt was telling us about his daughter. My jaw nearly hit the desk when he said she was eight months old now and I suddenly remembered just which term she was born during. LAST school year, not this term.

But look on the bright side - when time flies this fast, there is no time to procrastinate, so things just might get finished sans panicking. I doubt it though. College is no fun without at least a little panic.