"Terrible day at Camp Ivanhoe. Let's hope tomorrow is better."

First things first.....

HAPPY FALL BREAK, WHEATON STUDENTS!!!!!

Fall break's timing really is impeccable. I wonder if the faculty has observed that students tend to go crazy around this time, so they gave us a break exactly NOW... or if we only go crazy because we know that a break is coming. Sort of a chicken and the egg question, I guess. In any case, I am glad to have no school until Wednesday. I needed the break.

This week was insane. The busyness is fairly normal, but for whatever reason, this week I was more psychologically/emotionally in dire need of a break than usual. This came to my attention most particularly on Tuesday. I had a six page paper due at 4, and true to college student standards, I was cutting the deadline a bit close. I had just printed it out, and stapled it to my 6 page first draft and the 1 page feedback from my professor. 13 pages, perfectly typed and without an ink smudge or a crinkle. I took my purse and my coat and my stack of paper, said goodbye to Gretchen, and left. But first I went to the bathroom to make sure I looked alright - and promptly dropped my paper, face-down, on the very wet bathroom counter. I snatched it up, but not before the whole first page got quite soaked. Frantically I ran back to my room with the intent of blow-drying the paper because I didn't have time to print it all over again. I opened the door and Gretchen's head popped up expectantly. "Yes?"

I faced her, held up my paper, and instead of explaining, broke into hysteric laughter. Manic, really. I think I really scared the poor girl. I laughed while I climbed up onto my bookshelf to reach my blow-dryer, and I laughed until my paper was dry. I snickered as I left the room a second time. Not because I thought it was funny... it's just, you know how sometimes things are just so ridiculous and horrible and so.... the last straw? And there's really nothing else you can do aside from laugh. Life is funny that way.

Anyway, that kind of describes the week. It was fine, overall, just... tense. And occasionally hysteric. BUT NOW IT'S OVER. Ah. Thank you, God, for Fridays.

I can't really remember the individual things that I did this week... but that's okay. It's 12:23 in the morning and I need to go to sleep. Important things:

Thursday's Workout was the most relaxing one I've been to. Every day the room takes on a different mood - it's interesting how that happens - and the mood yesterday was very relaxed and peaceful. A lot of it involved just lying on the floor and breathing, which is always good. We don't take enough time to think about breathing in everyday life. We also played a game where everyone sat in a semi-circle facing a chair; one person would volunteer to go and sit in the chair, and sing a song from their childhood. They'd sing it through once and then we'd join them the second time. It was quite probably my favorite game we've played in Workout. Songs from childhood are so evocative. I was sorely tempted to go up and do one; but the only song I could really think of was The Philosopher Song. Which I've already promised to teach many of the Workout members... but I didn't feel that it would be quite appropriate in this context. Later I kicked myself for not singing Toora Loora. Ah well. There's always next year.

One of the other things that we did, while we were lying on the floor breathing, was figure out ways to 'bless each other' in some physical way. We all had our eyes closed and Mark came around and touched some of us (I was one in the first group) to signify that we were designated "blessers." When he said that he wanted us to go and bless as many people as we could in six or seven minutes, I (English major that I am) immediately thought of verbal encouragements that I could give. But then I remembered that hardly anything in Workout is verbal, which scares me sometimes. But it ended up being a really wonderful thing to do - it's interesting how physical touch, even if it's just holding someone's hand or placing your hands on their head or their feet, can really be meaningful to people. I'm not a naturally touchy person... but I really liked that exercise.

Today was a full day of classes, but it was wonderful because I knew that every class was my last for half a week. YAY. Except for my Bible class, for which today really WAS the last day - it's a quad class (half a semester). So I'm done now. ALSO YAY. (It sounds bad, I know, to be happy about a Bible class ending. But you weren't in this class.) So on Thursday I start up another quad class: Health and Wellness. At 8:30 AM. Ugh. Not psyched about that one.

Also, bad news bears. My laptop seems to have a virus. I took it in today and the guys couldn't get the internet to connect. Thankfully I know one of them from Workout - so even though the IT Services will be closed for fall break, he's agreed to meet me on Sunday and take a better look at it. Yay. But until then... computer lab, you and I are going to be really good friends by the end of this week.

Ummmm what else. More French conversation aid today - this time we talked about how I don't know how to ride a bike. He offered to teach me; I'm half tempted to ask that we do that next time instead of speaking French. It might be easier.

Tonight I hung out with one of the girls from church (who also lives two floors under me); we went to Chipotle (SO. GOOD. And SO. MISSED.) and then went grocery shopping so that I could buy more tortilla chips (yes, I have an addiction), good lotion, crackers and brie cheese. (I miss cheese. They don't give us cheese here.) Then we came back to campus and watched Moonrise Kingdom. It was a glorious evening.

Tomorrow I'm going into Chicago with another friend. I think we're going to the Art Institute, but I'm not too picky at this point... I'm just happy to get back into the city! I've been there four times, but three of those times were to see plays - so I was basically in a bus until we got to the theater doorstep. I've only explored the city once, back during orientation week. Going with someone that I know and actually enjoy hanging out with will be infinitely better.

Eeee. Okay. I'm going to sleep. I just had an hour-long conversation with Kate, which made me ridiculously happy. I love that girl. I don't know what I'm going to do without her until February - did I mention she's going to be in EUROPE UNTIL THEN? - but I'm so excited for her. Go rock the world, man.

Oh! P.S. Today is the 60th day since I left home. Prior to this, the longest I've ever been away from home was my 59 day stint in Europe. From this point on, every day is a record-breaking day.

A common plight

of Monday afternoons, especially when the weather is beautiful like today's, is that I feel like treating myself to a nice long walk around downtown when my last class finishes. Or maybe just sitting out on the lawn, reading Salinger because Salinger is not assigned reading. (And because he's wonderful. But that hardly needs to be pointed out.) But because it IS Monday, I know that I have a lot of work to take care of so that I don't die in the next few days. So I go back to my room, ceremoniously crunching a few red, yellow and silver leaves in the grass under my boots along the way. But once I get there, instead of buckling down to do homework, I go on Facebook or email or blogspot. I COULD BE OUTSIDE. But because I'm attempting to be a good student, I have to procrastinate in the most studently way possible. I think that's my subconscious logic, anyhow.

It's the stupidest thing. AGH.

I'm going to go do homework. But first of all, I wanted to tell you that there was a tornado warning yesterday. It rained most of the day, and towards evening the storm got quite violent. A bit before dinner, I was up in my room listening to music and washing dishes in the bathroom sink. I noticed, suddenly, that the whole floor had gotten very quiet; in fact, it was entirely deserted. I checked my phone: there was a voicemail from the school safety system, letting me know that a tornado had been sighed in west Chicago and that Wheaton was under severe tornado watch/warning/however-they-phrase-it. So... everyone on my floor had gone down to the basement. (I try not to think too much about the fact that they all deserted me and left me to my fate on the 4th floor...) I had just gone out into the lobby on my way to the stairs when the "all clear" came on. So it could have been a very eventful evening, but I'm rather glad that it wasn't. I like watching rain from my window; I've even grown accustomed to lightning. But I'm not terribly excited about the prospect of meeting a tornado.

I'm eating an apple, and I just bit my lip really hard. Now there's blood on my apple. Gross.

.... you didn't really need to know that. I need to go write a paper. Bye.

OH! P.S. I got into the literary magazine here at Wheaton. Pretty darn psyched about that.

OH AGAIN! P.P.S. A friend invited me over to her family's house in Cincinnati for Thanksgiving. :)

Pour ne pas qu'Octobre nous prenne

*Loosely translated, "so that October won't get us."

Today was a good day, in a different sort of way. It was incredibly grey and dreary and it rained most of the time. And I didn't have an umbrella. But still - it was good. I spent the morning painting the set of The Secret Garden, and then went to lunch with a few of the girls in set crew. There's normally a large band of us set-crewers in the cafeteria for Saturday brunch, but the cast (most of whom are in set-crew) had rehearsal during our brunch-break, so our numbers were considerably diminished. After we ate though, I went back to watch the rehearsal for awhile. I went back to my room then, stopping to check my mail along the way (I got a postcard and a letter today! Score!). I meant to do some studying, but what I ended up mostly doing was trying to get my laptop to work. The cursor is frozen pretty much all of the time now, which means that I can't get anything done on the stupid thing. So at the moment, at 11:45 PM, I'm sitting down in the computer lounge of our building where the light is offensively bright and the AC is (for some unknowable reason) turned on. I don't mind the temperature, but the thing is ridiculously noisy. I've got to get my poor laptop into the tech department... I have so many papers due this week, and I don't know how to get them done properly if I'm working between my laptop (on the occasion that it works), my roommate's, and the computers in the downstairs lounge. Ugh. Technology.

At 4:00 I had a meeting with the editors of the literary magazine here at Wheaton, to discuss revisions for a story that I submitted. I am proud to say that my story is (I'm 99% certain) included in Fall 2012's edition of "Kodon." Woop! I came back to the lounge, made the revisions, submitted the story, and then headed off to a friend's apartment to have (get this) bison burgers. Yeah. We had a grand old evening with food and "Fight Club" and such. All around, it was a good day.

Last night was pretty fabulous, too. My roommate dropped me off at Target for about an hour and I bought many necessary (and some not-so-necessary, but equally important) items. At 10:00 last night, I went to WOTT - Women Of The Theater. Which was basically a large crazy dance/yummy snacks party for girls in the theater department. The last song they played was "Dancing in the Moonlight", at which point we all ran out into the courtyard and hopped around like mad. (The janitor across the way was, I'm sure, very amused. Whatever.) It was pretty glorious. Then one of the girls (the one who supplied me tonight with a bison burger, as a matter of fact) kidnapped me and took me to the local shady burrito restaurant which is pretty legendary around Wheaton. That, too, was glorious. Whew. I've missed Mexican food.

Anyway. I should go to bed so that I don't sleep through church again tomorrow. I just wanted to write a bit of an update and let you all know that I'm still alive. (One of these days, I'll actually write a post for the SAKE of writing a post - letting you know "that I'm alive" isn't, I feel, a fabulous reason for writing.) To those of you who have either emailed me or sent me mail, I want to extend a big hearty thanks, if I haven't already. It means a lot to hear from you.

Here's wishing you a good night's sleep and a healthy supply of rain/dryness (whichever you find yourself in need of).

Just a thought.

"More than anything else, I want to encourage you and remind you that it's alright if you find yourself saying "I don't know" more than "I know." Most of the time we don't really know how to do anything. It's only by the grace of God that we're still alive at all. I know that you know that, but it's good to be reminded. Trust God with your responsibilities like you trust Him with your breath. In, out. In, out. Breathe and know that He is God. He gives and He takes away. He hands us responsibility, and when He sees that our strength to hold it in our hands is failing, He takes it back and holds it in His own. In, out. Accept it from Him with breath, and offer it up to Him as you exhale. In, out."

"I write you letters. I don't know how to get them to you."

Dear Dad and Mom,
I have so much that I want to write about. I won't say "but this has to be brief", though, because whenever someone says that, they never end up being brief at all. (I wonder why that is?) I will start with the present: it is almost 5 in the evening here, and my stomach is rumbling. One of these days I will get back to a store and buy myself more tortilla chips and other late-night snacks, but for now, the best thing I've got to keep me going till meals is (you guessed it) coffee. There is a pot brewing now. Amazingly enough, I haven't yet gone through the supply that I bought on my first day here - but I fear that its end is coming soon. Yet another reason to go shopping. Also, FALL BREAK is in TWO WEEKS. Some people have plans to go to Honeyrock (a camp in Minnesota or some other forsaken place with which Wheaton is heavily involved), while some others plan to go home for the week. I have plans of my own: to wander and explore the downtowns of Wheaton and Chicago to my heart's content. And READING. So much reading. This is, day by day, beginning to sound more and more heavenly. Not to mention incredibly needed. The days and weeks go so fast - I can't believe we're almost halfway through the semester. Two nights ago I dreamt that I was home for Thanksgiving. While this plan is still up in the air (although to be honest, I must confess that I am heavily doubting its possibility or prudence at this point [alliterations! English majors!]), I thought that the dream was at least worth mentioning. In this dream, I was walking across the church parking lot with you and the rest of our family, heading toward the modular for our morning service. I was thinking of things to mention during "What I'm Thankful For" time. (Incidentally, I was going to say, "I'm thankful that I can be home.") Now, I had come back to California without telling anyone other than you guys; and while we were walking up the tree-covered path between buildings, I snuck up behind the Gilbertsons and tapped Jeannie on the shoulder. They both were so happy that they cried. Then Milt came up and hugged me, and asked if I wouldn't mind posing for a picture with Glenda after the service.

Well, speaking of church, I didn't go yesterday. Not on purpose, though. I've apparently gotten very good at turning off my alarm clock (this morning I woke up 15 minutes before a test), and yesterday I didn't wake up at all until close to noon. This was a rough week - we'll just put it that way. I'm thankful for the good amount of sleep, though - I feel better fortified to face this week. Even after today's Monday, I don't feel beat - whereas on last week's Monday, I felt beat from the moment I woke up. So yesterday was a rather abnormal day, but it was a good one. After breakfast I went over to a friend's apartment and read poetry and ate croissants with two other girls from Workout. Then I went to the reading room and sat in front of a huge fire (did I mention that yesterday was in the 40's?) and, with Dante, climbed out of Hell and into Purgatory. (It's all uphill from here, he tells me.) At 6:00 I returned to the apartment, this time with 8 or 9 others. We ate Chinese food and watched "Newsies" and had a rollicking good time. Near 10:00 I returned to my room and studied for this morning's French test (which I nearly slept through. AGH.). I don't think I did supremely well on that test, which is disappointing. But what can an English major do?

Let's see, working backwards.... Saturday was spent in the set-shop. I've grown to really adore Saturdays for that set-shop and its crew. By the time Fridays roll around my mind is in rebellion, claiming abuse; Saturday gives it a chance to relax a bit, and lets my more physical self be worked instead. Friday was full of classes, sleep-deprivation, caffeine, and French conversations. OH! Also, the college group from Bethel got together at somebody's house and spent the evening making pizzas and singing around a campfire. It was pretty glorious. A few of us girls made a Target run afterwards, but I didn't buy anything. I'm waiting for a time when someone can just drive me there and drop me off for say, three hours, while I work toward crossing things off of my "to buy" list. I had promised myself that I'd get into bed as soon as I got back to my room that night, but instead, one of my new friends came back to my room with me and we sat and talked for a few hours. I didn't sleep as much as I needed to that night - but I'm glad it happened the way it did.

Thursday. THURSDAYYYY. Well, everything was fairly normal until I got to Workout. I was feeling drained already by 4 in the afternoon (oh, haha, especially because I had been working all night and morning on a paper for my Lit class, and then when I went to turn it in, I couldn't get into my teacher's office! It all got sorted out eventually, but it was quite a process, which meant that I was late getting to the theater building. Which meant that I was drained AND stressed when I entered the room.). In fact, I didn't even want to be there at all; I was feeling too grouchy and emotional to be asked to do what we do in Workout. But as it happened, we didn't have Workout that day. We were all there - but half of the group was working on putting stamps and addresses on our seasonal-information mail, and since we were all going to a play that night, it would have been a short meeting anyway... so the director just canceled it. Which meant that we got to sit in the living room in our comfy Workout clothes and hang out for an hour. We then ate dinner together before our bus came. At 5:30 we boarded (all 55 of us), and it was a fabulous night. We saw Mary Zimmerman's "Metamorphosis" (which is based on Ovid, not Kafka). I don't really know what to say about it, other than that it was beautiful. Somehow I have to write a two page theater review on it tonight... but I have no idea how to do that. Some things you just can't put into technical terms. (The subject line of this email, by the way, is from "Eurydice"; hers was one of the stories told in the play, and this particular passage was read during yesterday afternoon's poetry reading. Eurydice's father, who is dead, writes her letters from the Underworld; he is one of the few there who still remembers how to read and write, but he can't let any of the others know, or they will dip him in the river of forgetfulness again. He concludes his letter by telling Eurydice, "I write you letters. I don't know how to get them to you." My heart broke.)

It is now after 5:00. I'm glad I didn't pretend that this letter was going to be brief. I have another class in about an hour and a half, but first I'm going to go get dinner "to go" from The Stupe so that I can eat and do homework at the same time. I have the review to write, some theater theory to read, and 13 cantos of Purgatory to traverse before I meet my bed tonight. I wanted to take this opportunity, though, to give you an update and let you know that everything is going well. I am still my silly self, and God is still His good and gracious self. I depend on each of these facts for my survival here.

I hope you're both well. Give my love to the wonderful folks at home for me; and tell the Gilbertsons that, were I to come home for Thanksgiving, they'd be the first to see me.

I'm glad that I can write you letters. I'm glad I know how to get them to you.
All my love,
Laura

And I heard you say, right when you left, that day, "Does everything go away?"

I have a class in the Billy Graham Center, across the street from campus. When I was stepped outside after class tonight to walk back to my room, I was struck by the strangeness of a familiar smell: salt. Ocean salt. I have no idea how it smelled like that - maybe being sick has just thrown my senses way off. But to me, at any rate, it was very evocative of my last night at home. And while I walked back across the street, the lawn, and through the lamp-lit center of campus, I was looking up at the overcast midwestern sky and thinking of how the sky over the shore of California looked exactly the same at 2:30 AM that day.

I had spent that afternoon packing, and Kate had kept me company the whole time - sitting on my bed, helping me sort through my clothes and watching funny youtube videos with me when I was getting too stressed to make good decisions. At about 2 in the morning, my stress was replaced by super-stress, depression, and crabbiness. I still had a million things to do and I was tired; it had been an insane and emotional week and I was running on almost no sleep at all. I'm not sure if this is an accurate memory or not, but I seem to remember being literally pulled to my feet by Kate, who told me to get a coat on because we were going outside. We got into her car and found ourselves at the beach. We'd gone there a few times late at night over the summer - mostly around performance weekends. (I remember that because we would both hop around for awhile and kick sand at the waves, then run opposite directions along water, and then, at the top of our lungs, we'd sing/shout whatever we wanted the ocean to hear. For my part, I mostly sang the French verse of "Storybook" from The Scarlet Pimpernel; I think I sang it better to the ocean than I ever did to an audience. With more oomph, certainly.) That night, we didn't do much raucous shouting or singing, though. I remember that we took our time getting to the water's edge; I remember stepping into the water; then I remember running, as fast as I could possibly go, away from Kate and the factory; and then I remember stopping, just looking out and feeling my heart pound like mad. And then Kate was next to me. I don't think we said anything at all. We just stood there for a long time, looking around, and then we both turned around and started walking back to the car. I was about to look back at the ocean one last time (sentimentalist that I am), but right then Kate took my hand. "I like New York in June. How about you?"

By the time we got to the last "How about you?", our feet were dusted off, and we closed the car doors to shut out the cool, salty ocean air.

Well, Kate. Now that I've had time to really think about it, I don't know how I feel about New York in June. I mean, I've never seen it. But Oxnard in August - that was nice.

In case you were wondering, I am...

-Alive
-Busy
-Sleep-deprived
-Well-fed
-Getting healthier
-Not freezing (yet)
-Going to class in eleven minutes

Over and out, my loved ones.

PS. HAPPY OCTOBER!