Upon the announcement (from our office administrator, Jean) that classes had been cancelled and we should all go home, everyone in my classroom exploded in screams and hugs and jumping up and down like seven-year-olds. I just looked and felt kind of bewildered. The world seemed suddenly unreasonably loud. My fellow classmates were falling on each other in embraces. I happened to be standing at the other end of the room gathering my stuff to move to my next class when the announcement came, and I was soon very glad to not be in the small throng of people congregated around the door. As the day has gone on I've been glad for the extra time to actually get work done, and I'll go to bed at an hour that is considered normal by most people, and I might even watch a live tv show, but I don't like missing out on studio classes.
Dear Colleen,
I read your blog post and we should talk about it.
Colleen talked about liking this weather because we are forced to stop by something we can't control, and that's a reminder of God's presence. I agree with that, but I have always really liked these sorts of situations for the adventure of them. I like being caught in something with a group of people; feeling like we're all a part of the same thing. Everyone I rode the NYU bus with today was trying to get back to their dorm before the storm got worse. We were fleeing a rapidly emptying campus to the safety of our rooms. I've had the same experience when I've been in shows in buildings that have lost power (twice, actually), or when I'm trying to perform with a group of people during an epic rainstorm and the roof doesn't have soundproofing so you pretty much have to scream Annie Get Your Gun to actually be heard. And, not that this was a good thing, but when there was a gun threat at my school my senior year, the adventure of trying to figure out what was going on and if I would actually go to school the next day was exciting. So today, escaping a snowstorm (that wasn't nearly as epic as it was made out to be) was a little adventure.
I used to make up adventures walking home from my junior high. It was a little less than a mile, but in that time I would pretend to be on some epic trek that always ended at my house. This is incredibly dorky, but sometimes I would narrate it out loud, usually in the third person, explaining why I had the things I had in my bag in relation to my expedition. Other times I was a Laura Ingalls Wilder-esque schoolgirl heading home to help with chores after school. I've never wanted to live in a small town or on a farm or a legitimate prairie, but I've always enjoyed pretending I do. Don't ask me why. I'm imaginative.
Soon I have to find a summer job. Oh boy. It'll happen. It will. Somehow. For now I'm going to focus on reading the rest of The History of Sexuality for my Confessional Culture class. Which is awesome, by the way. Religious studies minor? I think so. Seminary? If I can figure out how to afford it... which will start with a job, I guess.
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