I'm sitting here on the west side of the library overlooking Lake Taneycomo and the gently sloping pastures opposite that just are just begging for a daydreamer to amble over them. A tinge of green has crept across the pastureland, just within the last week, thanks I'm sure to the warm and sunny days we've been enjoying. It's a hopeful thing, that green.
I do not feel hopeful today. I wish I did. I should, I know. It's a beautiful sunny day (not that the weather should have any real effect on one's moods). I am hopeful for my friends. I didn't want to wake up this morning because I was dreaming nice things for them. Pleasant things like an extension for a friend to stay an extra semester and the courage for other friends to get engaged who may be unsure about making such a commitment. I dreamed something nice for someone else, but I can't remember what it was or what I dreamed. Maybe it will come true, and then I will remember dreaming it.
I have more to do than dreaming will bring to pass. I must write, write, write this week, or I shall never have my papers to turn in on Thursday, nor any creative pieces to enter in the writing contest. I'm writing a paper on Oedipus the King by Sophocles, which has become one of my favorite pieces of literature. In my paper, I discuss what the play has to say about how we can know the truth about ourselves in relation to the world. Perhaps I will divulge more in a post dedicated to just that, but here's the short of it: we come to know the truth about ourselves only if we are willing to look inside our own hearts to recognize that we are capable of every evil we suspect of others. My explication of Gerard Manley Hopkins' sonnet "God's Grandeur" is coming along nicely. Dear Dr. Isitt has us illustrating various lines of the poems were writing about, and I've finished my illustrations (five hours later); now I must proceed with the five page paper! As for creative pieces, I have several in the works: a poem about my dad, a story about a recurring dream in childhood. If you wonder why I don't post more often, it's because I'm writing other, more important (?) things.
What could be more important than sharing my life with friends faraway? I know; that's why I included a question mark. The irony is that the more I write, the less I feel I have to say. It's all been said before. I don't know why I anguish over what I write, but I do. And you, my friends, may suffer through my ramblings, or not, as you so choose!
Josh and I went shopping last night. I got Sense and Sensibility on DVD for just $5 and a cute red and black striped knit top with empire waist, turtle neck, and gently puffed sleeves for $4. It's a strange creature, not something I thought I liked when I saw it on the rack. But I picked it out to go with a sweater I adored. The top turned out to be perfect; the sweater was atrocious! Josh found lots of nice dress shirts on sale that he will need for his European internship this summer. He may be in Paris or Brussels; he doesn't know. Either one will be fine because they speak French in both places. I wish I knew where I would be this summer, but I don't.
The Birds made a mid-semester migration south from Minnesota, their reason primarily being to check on Mrs. B's father who lives near Poplar Bluff. I suspect they weren't too sorry to leave behind the subzero temperatures up north, either. And perhaps they wished to see their Grant and meet some of his friends at school. Whatever their reason, it was a delight to meet such good country people whose faces reflect so much happiness and love. Mrs. B. thinks of me, she says, and keeps me in her prayers. Thank you; I need them.
That's the news from Point Lookout, friends. What is new with you?