Rising.

This week on Grey's Anatomy, one of Miranda's patients was a White supremacist who made no secret of his dislike of and distrust towards Black people. Miranda's response, instead of assigning him to a different doctor, was to take the insult, be professional, and rise above it.
In life, when other people are jerks, when they add insult to injury, when it seems easier to dig your heels in the sand and be spiteful just because you can, sometimes you have to take the high road.

We constantly pray for you that our God may count you worthy of his calling, and that by his power he may fulfill every good purpose of yours and every act prompted by your faith. We pray this so that the name of our Lord Jesus may be glorified in you, and you in him. -2 Thess. 1:11-12

"Don't cross me while I'm busy rising." -Miranda

The giving season.

Since I am bored of working on my microbio assignment, I'm going to take a break to post (even though I only started working at 12:30 and have taken breaks to have lunch and watch America's Next Top Model). I have finished the written portion of my project though, and only have to make the presentation slides. Other things I have accomplished today include going to church and filling my shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child.
The sermon today was the first of a four-week series on money issues. We were prompted to make a goal for the series, and consider what it means to be materialistic and whether we consider ourselves to be materialistic.
I think my goal for the series is going to be to increase my giving to the church and to others. During 8 months of the year when I am at school, my tithing is next to none because I don't make any money. I also wonder about whether I should tithe to Creekside, where I go for most of the year, or Malvern, which I still consider to be my home church and which I feel needs more financial support than Creekside. I also am really lame with giving presents because I never know what people need, and usually consider buying novelties to be a waste of money (and materialistic!). But when my sister bought me pajamas, I was glad that she thought of me and bought me something, even though I don't really "need" a matching pajama set. So this year I am determined to put more effort into buying Christmas gifts so that people I love will know that I care.
Anyway, after church, I went to Dollarama to get items for my shoeboxes. After the sermon, I wanted even more to make a nice box for a child who is less fortunate than me. They say that giving is contagious, so hopefully by the end of this series, I'll be able to loosen the drawstrings on my purse and be more generous. I started by stepping up my game - two boxes this year instead of one!

I love...cake.

Today was a monumental occasion. It was the first time... my family ever came to visit me in Waterloo. (Well there was a time last year when my parents came to visit when Brenda and I were both in school... but this time everyone came just for me.)
They arrived this afternoon around 1:30, bearing gifts. Brenda bought me flannel pajamas from La Senza. Pink flannel pjs. With a cake print! Anyway I nearly died on the spot (and went to heaven), this nighttime outfit has 'fat kid' written all over. I love it! I usually don't wear long clothes or button-up shirts to sleep, but it'll probably be nice to have for cold winter nights.Just for kicks I decided to pop the collar in this shot and pretend like I'm all that.. yaa you all wish you had cake pajamas.

Life is simpler with a Mac.

One reason I decided to get a Macbook is that my friend promised everything would be easier, and things would just work. Since I hate computers, and have had experience working with Macs in high school, I decided that could only be a good thing.
Today while working on an assignment, I had to install something to import references. Here are the instructions on how to do so.Of course the program-thing didn't end up working like it was supposed to anyway, but I just thought this was amusing.

Looking for God in a cathedral.

This past weekend when I was in Montreal, my friends and I all paid the admission to enter the Notre Dame Basilica. I remember seeing the cathedral when I was younger and visited the city with my family. But of course we didn't pay to go inside of it; we just took pictures from the exterior and went on our way. I guess we all wanted to get out of the cold badly enough this time though.
Going inside old cathedrals always stirs up a lot of memories. (Now the Notre Dame Basilica will be added to that store.) It makes me think of grade eleven art class, when we learned about Gothic architecture. We learned about the front facade of all (I think) cathedrals have three doors, with the central one being larger than the others. There's a stained glass window, called the rose window, above it. We learned terms like vaults and flying buttresses, which I no longer know how to employ. The interior of the cathedral is cross-shaped, and the long aisle is called the nave. The top of the cross is called the ambulatory, and I think that's where the choir would sit.
I've taken all that knowledge with me (the best that I can), whenever I am inside a cathedral. I was in the Toronto Children's Chorus for several years, and we often performed in churches because the acoustics are amazing. Having said that, cathedrals also remind me of choir - red dresses, black patent shoes, blue music bags and all. Our pianist, an elderly lady named Mrs. Henderson, was incredibly skilled. Sometimes I'd be mesmerized just watching her aged fingers rippled effortlessly over the keys. (I was short, so I was always in the first or second row, close enough to the piano.) She also played the organ, so for the more majestic pieces, she would disappear up to the organ loft and accompany us with the appropriate grandeur.
My next post-choir memory of cathedrals is my trip to France in July 2003. I spent four weeks surrounded by gorgeous European architecture, learning about the French language and culture. While I was there, I naturally visited the famous Notre Dame Cathedral and the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur. I even attended a mass service at the Notre Dame, because I hadn't been to church at all during my trip. It was definitely an interesting experience... my first time at a mass, combined with my inability to understand anything the bishop was saying.
This past summer, while working at Evergreen, a new dimension was added to my perspective on Gothic churches though. During the street walk that my friends and I did, we went into a church where they were running a dinner program. We sat in the pews, all greasy and tired and cranky, and listened to a guy sing and talk before we were led to another room to be fed. That time, the grandeur of the church felt more hollow, as if the high ceilings and wide nave were meant to give God more space so He could stay far enough so that He didn't have to touch me.
A few weeks later I went on outreach with a coworker, which means that we walk around the city near our campus to see if we run into any of the regular youth, and sort of say hi and check in with them. He took me to a church in the downtown core, I forget the intersection.. but it had been abandoned/converted into a place for homeless people to hang out. If you can imagine Toronto summers, take that thought and cram it into one building, along with people who haven't showered or changed their clothes in God knows how long. It was an uncomfortable sight, but in a way, it was really beautiful. The church was being used for the purpose that I believe Jesus intended for it. The outcasts of society could have some place to be without being harassed or judged. They could sit and play cards, or chat, or sleep, and just be. Never mind what they were wearing, or whether they'd bathed or shaved, or if they were rested; people were welcome to come as they are.
So back to the Notre Dame Basilica... admiring it and taking pictures was a very academic exercise for me. Ambulatory, nave, rose window. Check. The place was filled with other like-minded tourists, all trying to capture the beauty of the architecture and embellishments, and save it for later. For me, the beautiful Gothic churches would always only be pretty buildings in a photograph or on a postcard - landmarks, museums, artwork. I would head down to the stuffy, noisy places with cranky homeless people in them if I wanted to see God.

Back to the grind.

This past weekend I went on the CAOS-organized trip to Montreal. We left Waterloo at 5pm on Friday, and arrived back today just past 8pm. It was an incredibly short trip, but just what the doctor prescribed following an agonizing month of midterms.
We arrived in Montreal at 1 am on Saturday. The bus ride went surprisingly quickly; we stopped only for a half hour in Kingston to get food, and the rest of the time was spent watching movies, listing to music, sleeping, or playing Tetris. Since it was so late, my roommates and I decided to just sleep and start the day off properly.
We woke up in the morning around 8, and after we all got ready, had breakfast at a cafe near the hotel. A bus took all of us to Old Montreal at 11 am. There we went into the Notre Dame Basilica en masse and took pictures in the area. We had absolutely gorgeous weather - it was crisp but not freezing. From there, we wandered back up to St. Catherine's and made our way across all the stores and shopping galleries. My goal for the trip was to go to Simon's, which everyone always talks about. We did indeed make it there, and it took up a couple hours just going through all the stacks of clothes and getting through lineups to the fitting room and cash register! But I walked away with three new tops and a bigger credit card bill.
For dinner, I met up with a buddy from high school. Last time I saw him was probably in first year, so it was cool to see each other and catch up. Afterwards I went back to the hotel to get ready to go out. That also included my first experience using a hair straightener! (Note to self: hair straightener work best when they are plugged in.) Buses came at 8:30 to take us to the first bar, St Sulpice. I was informed that the terrace is awesome, but since it's almost winter, we obviously did not go out onto it. At St Sulpice we had a Waterloo vs Montreal Optometry competition. Waterloo lost the trivia portion of the night, but dominated Montreal squarely in the boatracing event (which I think is especially embarrassing given that they are living in Montreal).
At 10:30 we were shuttled to a different venue, a club called The House. It was a shady kind of place with bad music and rude people, so we stayed only till about 1, and then cabbed it back to the hotel.
This morning we woke up at 9ish and took our time getting ready, packing up, and watching TLC. We went out for brunch and made it back to the hotel just in time to get onto the buses headed back home.
But now unfortunately it's time to get my head back in the game and ready for a new week of classes.

When midterms are over.

As of 10:30 am Wednesday, I was officially done midterms!! I promptly celebrated by.... going to Geometric Optics. Yea, unfortunately, we still had a full day of class. I got home at 4pm though and proceeded to do nothing for 2 hours. Well, I caught up on last week's episode of Scrubs and downloaded some notes. And then I made and ate dinner and went to small group.
After small group, I went to the Bomber where most of my class had already started their post-midterm festivities. The evening was alright; the music started getting lame towards 11pm. My friends and I didn't stay late, but we stayed long enough to witness the funniest guy dancing all crazy and techno.
Thursday I skipped my first optom class! I decided to sleep in. It was wonderful. I made it in time for my other two classes though, which were agonizingly boring, but I had lunch with Jasy and Bee to look forward to. We went to Seoul Soul - another first for me! The food was okay, but definitely not authentic.
I hung around school to watch Gossip Girl with Jasmine for a bit and then went off to Katie's around 3:30 for an afternoon of martinis and munchies. We had guacamole and chips, cinnamon loaf, crackers with brie and jam, double chocolate cookies, veggies and dip... and martinis! Katie taught me to mix and shake like a pro so I took over the bartending responsibilities when she became... incapacitated.
Several hours and drinks later Sam picked me up and we had more drinks and appetizers at Bomber. When I got home I talked to my mom on the phone for a bit, uploaded pictures, and got ready for bed.
The adventures are not over. This weekend we bring the party over to Montreal where we will eat, drink, shop, and be merry! Now.. to pack!

Long Road out of Eden.

Because I was so busy this past month, I didn't even have time to anticipate the release of the new Eagles' album. Today was the big day though! I thought I could just go to HMV to pick it up, but after some Google-ing, I found out it was being sold exclusively at... Wal-MART! I also found out that the closest Wal-Mart was all the way in Kitchener. I thought I would just have to wait till some other chance to get my hands on it.
Today I had a physical optics midterm, my seventh test since the month's start. I thought I'd get to work studying for Friday's medical microbio exam, but after getting home from the pool, I decided I had no desire to hit the books again. So I called Little Jon and made plans for an adventure to Wal-Mart later that night. We left around 7:30 and I picked up the 2-disc set for the great low price of $11.99. Then I went to Erin's for House night, and showed off my fabulous new purchases. Livvy came over too, and we ate cookies and chips while watching House ridicule people. I took the bus home, thrilled to listen to my new CD!
Once I got back, I imported the album into iTunes and synced up my iPod almost immediately. I packed up my knapsack for school and got ready for bed along to my new Eagles tunes, encouraged that this seemingly endless midterm season would indeed be over soon.

Just too busy being fabulous.

My Cup Runneth Over.

Years after the introduction and phasing out of Latte Tuesdays, and regardless of how increasingly popular Starbucks is due to its trans-fat-free pastries and free-trade coffee beans, Second Cup is still my favourite specialty coffee retailer.
It started back in high school, when lattes cost only $2 on Tuesdays, leading to a greatly anticipated weekly tradition amongst my friends. We'd go to Don Mills Plaza (now a pile of rubble, or less) after school to grab a drink to take on the bus, or head over to the beloved Javahole Second Cup on Steeles to have our caffeine fix while studying. The Javahole is named of course for Javathon, our favourite high school dropout and coffee barista, who unfortunately stopped working there after a near-death carjacking experience. The wobbly tables were for studying and storing into memory; the plushy couches were for chitchatting and making memories.
Those days are long gone now - lattes cost the same on any given day, and it's not really Javahole without Javathon there. I went back to that Second Cup when I was home for the Thanksgiving long weekend. It has been renovated, now with snazzy decor, sturdier tables, and even a mock fireplace - a new look fitting for a new era. I wasn't there with the girls from Don Mills; that time I had a date with anatomy, and a couple Capstones. It was raining that afternoon, and I sat there with my books and laptop and vanilla bean latte, watching the downpour through the picture window.
Today I went to Second Cup at University Plaza with Kat and Jasy. The last time I remember having coffee with them there was two years ago, on a wintry December night with a bunch of girls in our year. It was not quite as cold today as it had been then. We gabbed and gushed over caramel corettos. Incidentally it was raining. I find something very fulfilling about having warm coffee and good company on a rainy day. I was going to do some studying there, but the Internet wasn't working (Internet is free at select Second Cup locations, as opposed to having to pay for it at Starbucks!); I took it as a disguised blessing and a chance to spend more time catching up with old friends.
So while everyone else is buying into the Starbucks hype, you can always find me with my Second Cup in hand.

Foveal Farm Fest.

Keeping in mind that Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week, I enjoy Friday nights just knowing that Saturday mornings are just on the other side of a good sleep. However, this weekend I have to study perception, so my Saturday will be a wee bit less relaxing. But I made up for that today, with a light afternoon and the Foveal Farm Fest. Tonight, my class (well I guess about half the class) took a break from our books and held our first social event on Jen's farm.
Classes were over early today, around 11:45. Those who didn't have lab were able to leave, but I had to stick around for lab at 1:30. It was a relatively quick and painless lab, so we finished early, so I got home by about 3:45, at which point I fell into bed and passed out until 4:30. After that, I ate something quick and got ready to be back at the school for 6:30. We all met and split up into cars, and took off for the farm!
Jen lives on an old farmhouse in Kitchener, c. 1850 or something like that. She has a cat and a dog, and her mom prepared hot dogs, snacks, hot chocolate, and 16 homemade pies for us. Her brother took us on hayrides around the property, through the cornfields. We sat around chatting and eating; some people started a foosball competition; eventually we made our way around the campfire to bask in its glow, roast marshmallows, and sing songs, accompanied by two guitars and a djembe.
The festivities ended quite early; most people left before or around 10 pm. It was a very fulfilling night though, I left very satisfied and content with the company and food I'd had. It was nice to sit and spend time with my... colleagues, I guess, outside of a classroom, find out more about their personalities, and know more about them than just their names. It's incredible to look at the calendar and realize we've only been a class together for 6 weeks - it feels like so much more! But when I stop to think about it, even though I see these people every day, I really don't know much about most people at all. I can't wait to see how we will be by the end of the year. After today's Corneal Cup presentation, I can barely even wait until the new term, so I guess there's a bunch of things to look forward to in steps.
Anyway, I didn't mean to get emo or anything like that (in this post anyway), I just wanted to share about the cool farm experience. Laura and I even got to nick some leftover pie and take it home, so there'll be dessert for the next few days! :)

Tip of the day: Add an eye anatomy term at the beginning of anything and turn it into an optometry event.

Saturday lurve.

Saturday mornings are my favourite time of the week. When I was a kid, it meant watching Saturday morning cartoons with my sister. It meant fishy-shaped pancakes that my dad made with love, or oatmeal that he made with love and didn't know that we would refuse to eat.
As time passed and my sister and I entered adolescence, my family started going out to have breakfast with my grandparents at Chinese cafes. Our parents had to pry us out of bed so we could make the breakfast cutoff time at 10.
Since I started University and live on my own, breakfast with my grandparents happens a lot less. When I'm in Toronto, we still have breakfast or lunch together, and follow it up with some shopping or studying. In Waterloo, Saturday mornings are a time of sleeping in and recuperating from a long week and perhaps a late Friday night. It's a time to plan my day and plan my weekend.
Today is no exception. A full nine hours of coma-like sleep. Apple cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. (I eat oatmeal now; if my dad knew, he would surely make a snide comment about how I used to refuse to eat it.) A cup of hot orange pekoe. Hot shower, plushy bathrobe. iTunes. Check.
Hmm...Should I go play football today? I have to meet Emzhei and Olivia at the library later.. what subject should I study? What should I have for lunch? Should I go watch the hockey game with Grad cell tonight? What dessert should/can I bring? How much should I really be studying for anatomy?
I am left now with more questions than answers still, but now I have to start acting if I am really going to be at school by 1:30.
Have a good Saturday. :)

Angel Party.

I remember starting at a very young age to pray for my paternal grandparents. My grandfather followed a Chinese religion that I didn't (and still don't) really understand, but it sounded sort of ancient and pluralistic from the way my dad described it. My grandmother, as far as I know, did not follow any religion. But at the end of every prayer, when I remembered, I would automatically tag on, "And please let Grandma and Grandpa become Christians". It was definitely force of habit that kept me doing that; what does it mean, "let" them become Christians? As if it was God that was keeping them from believing in the first place? I guess what I had meant was... please give Dad opportunity to talk to them about You. Or, please move in their hearts to let them realize that You are real, and present, and want a relationship with them. But who knows, I was only a child.
As the years wore on, it became a back-burner issue. I was not able to directly talk to my grandparents, partly because of the language barrier, but also because of the culture. It's not appropriate to talk to older people about dying, and definitely not my place as a granddaughter. I tried to be a good and loving granddaughter though, and be respectful, and eat dinner with them and go to functions all the time though, just so they would know I loved them. I would show them I cared, and pray for them.
I forget the year my grandma had bypass surgery, but I remember that post-op she said that she tried praying and that she could feel God's presence. It already made me excited to hear that, but I thought that perhaps it was just something she used to comfort herself in her vulnerable position.
My mom told me a few weeks ago though, that my grandma agreed to have an evangelism meeting on October 11 with the senior pastor and a family friend, also from our church. I started to become optimistic that she would become a Christian. Last night at life group, we prayed for her.
My mom called me at 9:50 tonight and told me that my grandma accepted Jesus as her Saviour!!
My response was a mixture of ecstasy and skepticism. I was so overjoyed that she finally crossed that threshold and made the decision to follow Jesus, whereas before she was only open to hearing about Him. At the same time, I wondered if she truly knew what it meant to follow Jesus. My mom assured me that they asked her several times, and asked her to say in her own words how she knew she was going to heaven. So I have decided to join with the angels and celebrate - I emailed my small group with the great news, and proceeded to write this blog even though I had wanted to sleep early tonight.
It's such a joy to receive answer to prayer in such a big way. I love my grandma and am so glad I'll see her in heaven. I really hope that through this, there will be opportunity to witness to my grandpa as well. He will definitely be extremely resistant, but nothing is too daunting for our God.
Her conversion is also a reminder that time is limited, and sharing the gospel is something that can't just wait on the backburner all the time. It starts simply by making the choice to deliberately love people, and being transparent about the Source of your love. Then keep praying for opportunity, if not your own, then at least for someone else.

Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad; let them say among the nations, "The Lord reigns!"

Impulse buy.

Here are the earrings I acquired yesterday at Ardene's with Amy before life group. I got these in a 3-for-$10 deal - 16 pairs in total! I usually don't buy jewelry from Ardene's; hopefully I won't end up allergic to the metal. I've been wearing two of the pairs (the ones missing from the pictures) for a few hours and so far they seem okay.
I don't think these count as "quality" earrings, so I don't feel like I can cross #60 off my list. Oh well.

Oh yeah, the Liberals won yesterday's provincial election. It is the first time in 70 years they have won two successive elections. The surprise this year was that the Green Party finished ahead of the NDP.

Giving Thanks.

things i am thankful for
- being in optometry school
- having a lifegroup
- passing the u.pass
- ridesafe
- chocolate chip pancakes
- sleeping in
- rain
- being indoors during rainstorms
- parents
- de-briefing
- wireless internet
- salvation
- chats with my mum
- tea
- public transit
- recycling
- democracy
- good friends
- good food
- good health
- boundaries and rights
- music
- dreams

Creepy Rogers Guy.

I should be studying for my Optics midterm, but I have to write a really quick post about the creepy Rogers tech that visited my apartment today.
So starting yesterday, the Internet service in my apartment went down. I called Rogers last night to set up an appointment for a technician to come in. It was decided that he would come today from 2-5 pm. I told my address to the lady on the phone and she asked if there was a buzzer in the apartment building. I told her there wasn't, so she said not to worry because they would call before they arrive.
Today I came home from class around 1 to make lunch. Paul also came to visit me around 1:30. He called me from downstairs and I went to open the door for him and showed him my apartment. We were hanging out in the kitchen and I was cooking when a knock came at the door. The Rogers guy!
"Did you have a service order in here?" he asked when I opened the door.
"Yes," I replied, ecstatic that he was showing up so early. Then I stopped to think. "How did you get in?"
"Rogers has keys to any building it needs," he replied as he entered. I didn't really think much about it until Paul mentioned that it was sketchy, and how then a tech guy could just take keys to enter a building, and then use the premise of being a Rogers guy as an excuse to enter people's apartments. And nobody would really think twice because... it's a Rogers service technician! Anyway I thought it was a very creepy idea, in light of some of the recent dorm attacks at York and such.
The tech said that there was a problem that might be solved by going into a panel in the boiler room, and asked if there was a superintendent or keyholder in the building. I said I didn't think so, so he said he'd go check... on something. I don't know, he just left.
Minutes later, he came back. I asked if he found the key, and he replied, "I used my master key," as he held up his screwdriver. As he crossed the living room, Paul and I exchanged wide-eyed stares.
The Internet is all fine now, but I certainly hope nothing goes wrong with it again. Having to wait around for Rogers technicians is definitely inconvenient, but is also starting to be a little creepy.

My vacuum cleaner's gone.

This past Sunday at church, we started a series called Twisted. The topic was about Twisted Truth, and how the world will lie to us about who we are. The reason I bring this up is that I recently encountered a situation in my building that made me realize just how much I do hate it when people lie to me.
Basically what happened is that I moved some furniture into my new apartment on August 31, and then went back to Toronto for a week. When I came back to move in for good, I found that a vacuum cleaner I'd left in a hall closet was missing. I told the landlady and the former superintendent, and both claimed to not have seen it. However, as I did more nagging about the situation, the superintendent said she saw the landlady using it in one of the apartments; the landlady insisted that she superintendent must have taken it. They have their own little feud, so there's a lot of he-said-she-said stuff going on. But where we end up is that I have lost a vacuum cleaner.
I can't figure out in this situation whether I am more upset about the loss of my actual property, or that someone is clearly lying to me about what happened. Of course I am mad that I lost something that was in my apartment, but it is plausible that a miscommunication occurred in which my vacuum cleaner was assumed to be the property of previous tenants, and got thrown out. I would totally buy that story. In this situation, though, nobody will own up what happened. Personally, I am siding with the superintendents; they tried really hard to help me, and said they saw her using it, and even called her on my behalf. My landlady gets her story mixed up all the time though - first she said she never even knew anything about it, and then that she had seen it, but doesn't know what happened to it. Her latest update is that she had been looking for it all day yesterday and still couldn't find it, so she will pay me some money for it, and she is sorry and very upset about it.
I have a hard time believing anything she says. First of all, how can she have spent all day looking for it? Students who have class wouldn't even be home during the day.
So, now for the moral, because I suppose every trying situation ought to have one. This whole ordeal has been on my mind basically for the whole week. I've been calling the landlady, talking to the superintendents, wanting to knock on random units to ask about it... But I realized how easy it is to let these situations consume you. I found myself coming up with possible scenarios of how and when she may have moved my vacuum cleaner... or if she was or is just hiding it somewhere so she can keep it for herself...
I noticed that I was starting to drive myself crazy. What it boils down to is that... my vacuum cleaner is gone. I have to grieve it, accept it, and handle the consequences with my landlady (like receiving another vacuum to use and/or receiving payment for the lost one). But the vacuum cleaner is just an object, something replaceable by money. I have to remember that my landlady is a person, someone inherently valuable and created by the same Maker. It's hard to not be fixated on money when student lifestyle has trained me to pinch every penny, but people should always come before money. Loving them, treating them with dignity, empowering them.
Hopefully I can put this situation behind me soon and improve my relationship with the landlady.

Optical Prime

Today was the second day of Optometry orientation. We had to show up at 9:30 to take pictures and get lockers... which literally took about 10 minutes, and then we were all stuck with nothing to do until lunch at 12:30. A bunch of us went to Bomber for breakfast, where more socializing occurred. At lunch, we all got paired up with a Big Brother/Sister who is supposed to be our helper/guide for the year. Mine is a guy named Ernest, a nice sort of fellow who said he has lots to give me. Yay!
After lunch we did a short scavenger hunt. It was mostly for fun and time-killing; they didn't even collect the sheets after. Then we went off on our Essilor-sponsored evening. It started out with five-pin bowling (which I found out I suck at). We made it silly though with antics like bowling backwards or lying down and stuff. Afterwards we took a tour of the KW lab, and then had some dinner. It was decent too - a roll, salad, lasagna, and dessert!
We ended the night there unless people wanted to go to McMullin's for drinks (not on Essilor; maybe that's why nobody wanted to go). So I came back home to get notes and prepare for tomorrow, the first day of real class! I probably shouldn't be late, so off to bed I go!
Ohyeah, Optical Prime is the name of our class (probably). I love nerdy science jokes - optometry jokes are even better.

Einmal ist keinmal.

In one scene early on in The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Tomas is trying to decide what to do about Tereza, the waitress he met three weeks earlier in a small town, and with whom he had inexplicably fallen in love. Part of him wants to invite her back to Prague for good to be with him, but another part of him is holding him back. He spends some time recalling how he felt when he watched her, ill, sleeping on his bed, and wondering whether what he had felt was truly love, or merely hysteria.

And he was distressed that in a situation where a real man would instantly have known how to act, he was vacillating and therefore depriving the most beautiful moments he had ever experienced (kneeling at her bed and thinking he would not survive her death) of their meaning.
He remained annoyed with himself until he realized that not knowing what he wanted was actually quite natural.
We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.
Was it better to be with Tereza or to remain alone?
There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.
Einmal ist keinmal, says Tomas to himself. What happens but once, says the German adage, might as well not have happened at all. If we have only one life to live, we might as well not have lived at all.
- page 8

The expression "Einmal ist keinmal" means literally "Once is never". Its sister in the English language is "One swallow doesn't make a spring". I thought it was interesting because I had never taken that expression to have a meaning the way Kundera describes it. I take it to mean something along the lines of "Don't jump to conclusions".
An interesting expression...
Why does something not count if it happens only once? Doesn't it make that event all the more special?
However, I do identify with Tomas' over-analytical and indecisive nature. For me, life is like one big choose-your-own-adventure novel, and depending on what you choose, you might end up in an entirely different situation. (I suppose I may now find myself in a heady conversation with somebody about predestination versus free will. That is for another day.)
And though I do believe in the afterlife, I have never once considered this life to be a dress rehearsal for the one to follow. My thoughts on the afterlife are not as yet very well thought out, but I think it may suffice to say that I believe life after death to be more of a continuation of our life on earth, rather than a second go-through.
Anyway, I liked this passage because the way Kundera described Tomas' indecision and then his frustration with his own indecision reflects the way I sometimes feel. But I do not then conclude that a life lived only once is not worth living at all - no, quite the contrary. Because we have only one chance to live this life, we need to pick the grandest adventure of all, making the best of every situation, making the most of what we have. Sometimes things that happen just once are more than enough.

Lightness/weight.

I've started reading a book by Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, under Caroline's recommendation. She described it vaguely as a philosophy book, and told me that it was originally written in Czech, so the style of writing is really quite beautiful and different. She read me a few quotes from it that she had written in a notebook of hers, and I was intrigued so I decided to take her up on it.
Now just over 50 pages in, I can see why it was such a difficult novel to describe. There are two main characters in the book so far: a womanizer named Tomas and his wife Tereza. (Tomas also has a mistress named Sabina - one of many.) Not very much 'happens' in the book, but the author delves deeply into the significance of the things that do. The question that the author seeks to answer in this work is described as such:

"If eternal return is the heaviest of burdens, then our lives can stand out against it in all their splendid lightness. But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?
"The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.
"Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant.
"Parmenides posed this very question in the sixth century before Christ. He saw the world divided into pairs of opposites: light/darkness, fineness/coarseness, warmth/cold, being/nonbeing. One half of the opposite he called positive (light, fineness, warmth, being), the other negative. We might find this division into positive and negative poles childishly simple except for one difficulty: which one is positive, weight or lightness?
"Parmenides responded: lightness is positive, weight negative.
"Was he correct or not? That is the question. The only certainty is: the lightness/weight opposition is the most mysterious, most ambiguous of all."

So I hope that helps to set the tone for this novel. As people I think we're all somewhere in the middle of the scale between wanting to be carefree and weightless, but also wanting to make a difference in the world and have some pull in our respective situations. For us to assign a label such as positive or negative to either side seems a daunting task.
For the record, I believe weight to be the positive pole.

All about me.

I am... tired. But also really pumped from this weekend - my first time participating in CCSA playoffs since 2004. I'm sad we didn't win, but at peace with and very proud of how far we've come this season. I'm relieved that I didn't make a big mess of being governor, and was diligent in preparing devotions. I'm in shock that the season, the summer, is over. I'm still making moving arrangements. I'm nervous about starting a new program and living in a new place in September. I'm seeing the world through a different lens, only for a night.
I am... taking a trip tomorrow with some lovely ladies from work, just to say so long and farewell, before we go our separate ways for the school year. I'm so blessed to have met them and worked with them this summer.
I am... unpacking my softball gear from my duffel bag. I'm shaking out the dust and twigs. I'm going to fill it with my clothes and personal effects for the cottage. I'm waiting for pictures from our games to arrive in my inbox or on Facebook. I'm excited to share my battle stories with my girlfriends tomorrow, and sit by the lake reminiscing about this amazing summer.
I am... a Capstone.
I am going to bed.