I read words the way most people listen to music. They pass through me, often uncaught and not very clearly remembered. Music, on the other hand, invades my being and often overstimulates. Earlier, as I sat on my living room couch reading a book (Religion and Learning at Yale), with piano music playing in the background (Chopin's complete Nocturnes), my attention naturally went towards the sound of notes rather than the sight of letters, and that became more taxing than relaxing. This is why I can never study with music on--and why I don't always turn to music for stress-relief.
Reading, though, is enjoyable for me, as long as it's for pleasure and I don't feel pressure to remember anything. (How I ever managed to get this far academically is still a mystery to me, for during the semester I often feel like quite a dunce and far behind my classmates when it comes to learning new things, yet when grades come out I'm often pleasantly surprised with the results. I suppose my ability to write good papers has always been my saving grace.)
Things are finally slowing down, it seems. June gloom, accompanied by cold and rainy weather, has allowed my body to stop feeling frantic and to just sit still, for once. An early dinner and a cup of tea have prepared me for a quiet evening at home.
May was a full month. I finished papers and finals, said goodbye to dear friends who were leaving Yale, flew home for 10 days to see family and friends, and hit the ground running once I returned to New Haven: commencement happened, then a week of orientation for my summer fellowship, followed by a friend's weekend visit over the Memorial Holiday, and then my first week working at the Boys and Girls Club of New Haven.
At 29, it feels a bit silly to be paid by my school to work somewhere for a summer in a fellowship along with other students, some who are still undergrads. All over Facebook and across the world, friends of mine are buying houses, having children, and getting job promotions. One of my best girlfriends played an important role at the Center for Disease Control during the Ebola crisis. My former roommate, with whom I shared so much life and laughter, has been sent to Kenya by World Vision to live for two years. And my best guy friends from high school are working, respectively, as a doctor and a lawyer in Los Angeles, purchase of property there making them proper young professionals.
I'm stoked for my friends, grateful to partake in their adventures through keeping in touch, and just as happy with the life I've chosen. Studenthood and singleness have been a privilege for me, allowing me to learn and live with freedom and joy. I've always made enough to support myself, and even now am doing fine with savings, this summer job, and employment for the coming school year. So that's plenty for which to give thanks.
There was a time when I almost had ring on my finger, a handsome young man who would provide well financially, and the prospect of settling down in California's beautiful Bay Area. It was the dream that so many of my friends envied, and I sometimes think back to the choices I made then that made those prospects short-lived. Life forces some hard decisions on you, and at the time, you wonder if you'll regret it.
By grace, and through faith, I can say that I'm happier than I've ever been, and that I'm looking forward to what lies ahead in hope. Thoughts pass through my head like words on a page, and I'm lucky if I'm diligent enough to write them down. But the memories, like music, linger and last, and rainy days remind me to reflect and remember--so that I might give thanks.
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