It’s that time of the year again. Yes, that’s right, the time to register for fall classes. I want to pursue music full force between this semester and the next, but I’m not quite sure of which classes, specifically. I’m considering entering a chorus and/or some form of concert band to get my chops back. It’s a shame, a true shame, that I’ve let my trumpet, my poor poor Stradivarius Fritz sit in the corner for so long. A Jazz class would be great in heightening my chord progression recognition, which will be useful more and more as I pursue some form of composition, either full or part time. I may take a guitar class. And perhaps repeat Developmental Psych. I was surprised to learn I’d passed sociology and not psych. But then I suppose it doesn’t take much to pass sociology.
No offense to you kind sociologists, but really, there isn’t much to it. :p
So yes yes, registering for classes. Because of my low gpa, due to my lack of interest in my pre-reqs for nursing (which I am no longer pursuing, my what a silly bout that was) I am only allowed three classes this semester, and I wonder at taking three, but I don’t want to bore myself with two. I find that the majority of my scholastic career has been boring. Boring me slowly to death. And due to lack of challenge or lack of interest, I have never attempted perfect grades, except for once in fifth grade when I was offered a laptop if I got straight A’s. I nearly failed spelling, so that didn’t work out so well.
I’ll also be tweaking my time clock (my what fun that will be) so that I will have class perhaps at ten and maybe eleven some days and have work immediately after so that I won’t have to work until eleven every other evening. Granted, I enjoy the nocturnal hours, but they are not so conducive to school.
THE GUNFIRE AROUND us makes it hard to hear. But the human voice is different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury everything else. Even when it’s not shouting. Even when it’s just a whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard – -over armies… when it’s telling the truth.
In other news: I posted the quote above on my facebook as my status message yesterday. It’s from the movie The Interpreter and it tugs on my soul a bit. It amazes me how very narrow minded America has become as a nation, turning a blind eye to the violence going on in other countries, globally. Compared to such astronomical tyranny and unjust violence bleeding through nations in Africa, South America, the Middle East, and spots throughout Europe and Asia, no doubt. . . our nation is so very blessed to have such gracious circumstances. And yet. And yet.
- “The world of dew —
- A world of dew it is indeed,
- And yet, and yet . . .”
Issa was a Buddhist poet. Famous for haikus. He was considered a haiku master. Though I do not agree with him on matters of faith, his words do captivate me from time to time. Another translation of this poem I’ve heard is:
“The world is dew.
The world is dew.
And yet. And yet.”
For me it translates this way: in my faith and thus through my eyes this world is merely a ruse and the true life is the one yet to come. This world is tainted and one day it will be cleansed and then, there is where life will begin in it’s truest form. And thus, this world is but dew. Small. Inconsequential. But regardless of the importance of this world comparatively, there is still work to be done. There are more lives to save, people to stand up for. The cold and the weak and the weary. The hungry. The poor. Those who can not speak for themselves. As insignificant as this life will seem millions of years from now, it still holds great importance somehow. I can not yet comprehend it, and thus I am having difficulty communicating it. Perhaps it is best said like this: this life on this fallen world is very important. But with the knowledge of how much more important the next life will be, this life can easily seem pointless.
When I die, I don’t want any large memorial. I don’t want endless tears and a large to do. I just want a lily in my hair and for people to look at my life and to see that I lived for the Lord and that in that life of devotion to Him, I made a difference.