Day 89: Obligatory Procrastination Post

But this time it's real, fellas. Like, I have no idea how to start this assignment or how to finish it before I leave early Wednesday morning. I'm not stressing though.
Sometimes I wonder if a little more stress in my life would be a good thing. But then immediately I'm like, Pah! Hakuna Matata.

I leave for London in two days time. This is marvelous. I shall see Michelle Salvato, my VB homegirl, in the city, party hard, then be off the next morn' to enter the City of Love, Roma, where Zach has told me about a rampant population of pick-pockets and "bag-slashers," my mom has warned me of "aggressive Italian men" who apparently have odd mindsets about American women, and I've also had several of my friends comment in regards to possible heinous occurrences, as referenced from the movie, Hostel, which I am glad I haven't seen.

All in all, I'm super excited.
All in all, life is good.
All in all, if I fail out of this Master's program, the only people that will care are my gracious parents. Just kidding, parents, I won't fail.

But really. What is this degree in Information and Library Studies worth if not further assurance that the world is my card catalog(ue) and I am the catalog(u)er, and I am choosing the classification scheme, and THERE SHALL BE NO facets or coherent shelving order, because I'm also the user and it's more fun to find my stories and adventures at random, and Dewey nor the UDC-police can stop me because my classmarks make NO SENSE, and a transition from print to digital is unnecessary here because my collection is only available to those who make the effort to be with the physical books, so MARC can remain, because he's always been a nice guy, and I think XML is just a bit too big-headed, WHY ELSE would he think he can make the word "extensible" begin with an "X"? So boom, library world, come join me in my labyrinth of unpopular and outdated ideas, because I'm bringin' em to the future, and if that's not irony then students don't suck at seeking information.
You can read that as metaphorically or literally as you wish. Or just not read it. Or think about it ever again.

Hakuna Matata

FOUND (old post): 27 Days?

Oh no, oh no no no no no.
Summer? Don't leave. Yes, yes, I know, Mary Washington, this year is going to be great, with great roommates, a great new apartment, and all that great college independence and fun, buttttt I don't want to leave summer yet.

I have less than a month, and still so much I want to do.
Life's been sick. Literally just beach and work.
Tomorrow morning I leave for Kill Devil Hills for a week and it's going to be glory.


(As I was searching for posts that seem to have gone missing from this summer's bike trip, I found this little guy in my drafts. It's from summer 2010, before my sophomore year! Haha, thought I would post it since it never made it to the limelight. Even though it really doesn't say anything of importance, it's funny to read from over two years ago. I do still love summer and the beach and I still don't want time to leave. And the Outer Banks is always one of the best times of the year. I can't believe how much has happened since this post though. I've had two summers --one pretty much the same as the one I was wrapping up when I wrote this post--, had my first boyfriend, gone back to life with no relationship, torn my ACL for the second time, done two more years at Mary Wash, graduated from Mary Wash, ridden my bike across the US of A, moved to Scotland, started grad school, and so much in between.)

Day 84: If I Could Be

Anyone but me (I would be someone who isn't writing a blog post at 1 am while I am supposed to be staying up in order to complete some coursework), but really, it would probably have to come down to a tie between Maria from the Sound of Music, Scarlett O'Hara, Jane Eyre, and Pocahontas (Disney's rendition).

The desirable qualities:
The voice, personality, talents, faith, and situations of Maria are obviously all I could ever want--she (Julie Andrews and Maria are kinda intertwined for me) has the most beautiful voice ever, she's bold, she rocks the short hair (a trait I can only admire), she dances and plays musical instruments, straight about to be a nun because she wanted to give her life to Jesus but obviously she wasn't meant for the convent, annnnnd she ends up with her perfect man(the Captain could be anyone's perfect man, though, eh? Oy) even after she thought she lost him fo'eva.

The Southern charm, the undeniable beauty, the intense will, and the strength to survive through the worst of times define Scarlett O'Hara. However, her stubborn nature causes heartbreak for her in the end, which you can't help but feel sorry for, even if she put it completely upon herself (why didn't you just appreciate the love Rhett wanted to give you?!) A strong, southern woman is something you can't help but embrace though.

Jane Eyre is just the best character; she is so very independent, she is smart, she uses her words so perfectly and prudently, and though she is plain, her beauty shines through to the only man she will love, and she is too humble to realize he loves her (ugh it's just the best story). Honestly while reading it I kept seeing myself in Jane, and others have said so, too, but I think its mostly that I just wish I were her. The biggest contrast is my lack of ability to hold my tongue when it would be best to say nothing.

And Pocahontas just has the best, flowingest, long hair and runs so perfectly down those hills with her bare feet and tumbles through sunflowers like it's her job and has a little raccoon and hummingbird and talking tree to consult, and she looks bad ass with the upper arm tribal tat. (yeah this one is purely surface level, but whatever)


Guys, I'm so happy about Advent. Baby Jesus is coming, and I get to greet his arrival while in Rome with my favorite siblings. This time of year is just so joyful in so many ways, and though it doesn't feel the same living alone and being in Scotland and not smelling my mom's baking, there is still so much good. Ultimately, it rocks because even when the world and my surroundings leave me feeling alone or empty, I can become even more full, a fullness unreachable with the world even on the most worldly-fulfilling day, through the love of a God become man in that little manger under that bright star in that little town in a country far away all those hundreds of years ago.
Marinatha!

(Sidenote though: above, it sounds as if I'm having an awful time and am lonely and hating life here, but no, I'm not; I just mean in the grand scheme of things life can be hard and hollow compared to what Jesus has in store for us.)

Day 78: My Life is in Shambles

I actually remember saying this a lot last school year. Because my life was actually in shambles. Never, if you could live parts of your life over again, would I do what I did to myself: the last semester of college is supposed to be chill, college 'laxin'. Not 18 credits with a thesis, and ZERO days with a full night's sleep. Not even time for naps. ABSURD.
But, my reward was righteous, and I had the best summer ever.
However, now I'm over in Aberdeen and I have found myself in a whole new set of shambles.
Not overworked and overstressed about school or anything-- completely different. This time it is the realization that everything happens too fast. I REALLY REALLY REALLY mean it when I say that it feels like last Christmas break was only moments ago; all the pictures taken seem so fresh when I look at them now. This makes me sad about how fast time flies. A wise man at the restaurant a couple nights ago said, "Don't wish any time away, even the time you spend doing things you don't enjoy doing." Because he remarked on the hectic-ness of the night, and I agreed and said "at least on nights like this the time goes by faster." But as soon as his response was out of his mouth, I was agreeing. Wholeheartedly.
I've been here the better part of three months now and only have one more week of classes left, which means a third of my work is done. One more semester of classes, and then a semester of dissertation-writing. Those two periods will go by even faster than this first one has, for I'll have my placement, I'll be travelling, I'll be having people visit me, and it might even get warmer (fingers crossed). Then, before I know it, I'll be back in the US, hopefully starting a job reasonably soon after. I shant wish any time away ever again.And this brings me to the next part of my shambling realization.
All of my friends back home have either just finished their exams or they are about to begin them and in a week they will be heading home for Christmas break. This is my last chance for a Christmas break (and I'm doing it right, with a sibling Eurotrip). But there will never again be a month where my Virginia Beach friends all come back home and spend time roaming around together with no responsibilities, eating our parents' food and sleeping in our childhood beds. It won't be like that again. I have such warm feelings about these breaks. About VB. About those I care about most, still living in VB. And my heart is breaking to know that becoming an adult means forsaking certain awesome student perks.
There is no doubt I am happy to be out of undergrad, and less of a doubt that I will be happy to be out of postgrad come next September, but then what? It's not that I don't plan on doing something that gives me joy and an awesome life, I surely do, duh, who do you think I am (I'm Abi, checking one life dream off my list at a time). But, being a kid rocks. I'm ready to admit that being in college is still being a kid, and I'm simultaneously ready to admit that I'm not ready to stop enjoying that life.

Alas, that is life; it comes at you before you're ready, and you live anyways.

Day 74: Retreat Street

I just got back from a retreat this weekend in Dalmally, somewhere out in the west of Scotland, about three and half hours from Aberdeen. It was great. Very Holy Spirit-filled and rejuvenating. And a very worthwhile distraction from the coursework I need to finish before Friday. It's just like the old days, of late nights and procrastination. Except there are no old days; those are the only days.

Real quick I'd just like to say, if you haven't gotten the picture already, that this blog has pretty much become not as much a journal for where I travel, but more a glimpse into the travels of my mind. How lucky you are, readers;)

Anyways, it was a great weekend full of many great things, notably, great words and conversations shared.
I won't go into too much, because I just don't want to right now right here, but please, ask me about it:)
Why I wanted to post a quick blog tonight: on the way home I was having a conversation with my friend John about music and its healthiness for body, mind, and soul, and I was kind of musing in my head while talkin. So, because it is the life I lead to be constantly inundated with The Sound of Music, a quote from the movie came into my head, and I had a short moment of inspiration. The quote was this one:

Captain Von Trapp: You brought music back into the house. I had forgotten. 

I thought of it, because it is the Captain beginning to soften, to realize his affection for Maria, and to heal from the wounds from his dead wife, all by the gift of music. 
Music can help in so many situations: it can break the ice when there's a group of people together who don't feel really comfortable, it can lift spirits instantaneously when you're having a bad day, it can bring back memories from places or people you didn't even remember you remembered anymore, it can set the mood, it can make the party. All of these things I knew and recognized about music. But in this recent instant of meditation on this quote I made a new realization.
For a man to say to a woman that she has brought music back into his house, his life, became translated by me into the most romantic phrase ever. Music, as a universal way to communicate feelings, particularly love, becomes a metaphor for Love in this quote. 
She brought Music into the house, but what she really brought was Love. 
I want a man to fall in love with me for the Music I bring into his life, for the songs that fill his heart when I'm with him, for the melodies he can't erase from his mind or his lips when he thinks or speaks of me. I want the love I have with a man to be his favorite song, listened to everyday all day not exhausted, sending shivers down his spine when he hears it, and bringing tears to his eyes when he feels it. I don't even know if boys cry when they hear music, but I do sometimes, and I'm not talking about the songs that sing of little daughters diagnosed with cancer or other sad stories, I'm just talking about crying for the music in and of itself, I don't even know why, it's just all the sudden I have tears rolling down my face because the notes strike my heart in such a peculiar, previously unfelt way. To be able to affect someone the way music can affect someone is what romantic love should be.

"You brought music back into the house. I had forgotten. Fraulein, I want you to stay. I ask you to stay."

If this isn't an obvious profession of his love, I don't know what is. In that moment, I would have died. O Captain, my Captain. 

Oops, sorry for that diary entry.
But music. Yeah. 

Song of the day: You Never Let Go-Matt Redman. That was quite the jam this weekend, and it had been so long since I had p&w'd it up.

P.S. SORRRRYYYYY for not posting any pictures with this, because honestly Craig Lodge, the retreat house in Dalmally was located so beautifully in a valley surrounded by snow-covered mountains and meadows with sheepies all over. It was wonderful. Sorry.