Ancient Heroes, Distant Planets, and Tragedy: My MONDAY

"And Gilgamesh wept, shearing off his matted locks and crying 'Woe, woe! IT IS MONDAY!' and he was fraught with despair." (The Epic of Gilgamesh, translated by Sarah Kane)

Yesterday was, of course, a Monday. And I'm not one to read into the whole "certain days of the week are inherently worse than others" myth, but... Mondays are the worst.

This Monday began like all Mondays, with my most "interesting" class: a general humanities course in which I am consistently pelted with emotional shrapnel. 

"You're going to die." My professor stalks back and forth among the rows. "DID YOU HEAR ME? You're going to die. Enkidu did. Gilgamesh did. MY PARENTS DID. And... you will. I will." This professor, God bless him, frequently cries in class. 

I'm still dwelling on "YOU WILL DIE" when he throws another one out: 

"Are love and war one and the same?"

I'm side-eyeing the people next to me to see their reactions, and what do I percieve but utter awe radiating from them towards our instructor. There's one particular student who was created to irritate me - we'll call him Sherlock. 

Sherlock: Professor! Yes. Love and war are, in fact, the same thing.

Professor: Ahh, Sherlock. Enlighten us.

Sherlock: Love.... is a battle. 

Professor: mmm, yes.

Sherlock: And what is war if not a battle for love?! 

Professor: *claps hands* YES! YES!

Other students: *nodding approval* mmh, yes, yes

Me: *side eyeing everyone*

My professor clasps his hands together, staring intently out at all of us mere mortals. "Here's something. What is true?"

Me: (internally) CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT THE BOOK

The professor turns to the board, stares at the chemistry notes left over from the class before, and spins around dramatically. "Here's something. All stories... ARE LIES."

I turn again to see the reactions of SHOCK, except - nobody's shocked. Everyone’s nodding again, taking fervent, life-changing notes they’ll throw away after the test to never think about again. Mmmhmm-ing. Agreeing.

They... AGREE! 

From there I slowly spiral into confusion as I try to decode the meaning behind the small but weighty phrase "all stories are lies." I used to be able to join in the shallow, careless banter of these philosophical questions, throwing out possibilities and options and questions on top of the questions - but not anymore. I'm too conscientious with my thoughts and words now. I sit and dwell. I stew. I don’t share my infant thoughts as they materialize – that seems brash, yes? Yet it’s a requirement when you are in HUMANITIES.

Later, I find myself seated at the front of a large lecture room, staring at a timeline of THE ORIGINS OF THE UNIVERSE.

Again, we have some moral conflict here, as I’m being taught evolution, which, for about 17 years of my life, was usually referred to with a different name: LIES FROM SATAN! Yes. In Sunday school, I distinctly remember a list on the board including things like “lying” “cheating” “believing in evolution” and “killing people”. The list was titled: SIN. I used to pity people who were taught evolutionary theory. Poor things. Forced to consume lies and blasphemies. What a shame.

Soooooo what now Sunday school teachers, WHAT NOW. I find myself staring at a timeline of explosions, metamorphoses, and randomness. And, well, I believe it (?). I think. Yeah. No. Yeah. *Note to self: wrestle with childhood indoctrinations about the creation of the universe.

But hey, none of that really matters, because Monday night is ASTRONOMY LAB night, and that means I get to look through a telescope at the glory of the universe as it existed…. Billions of years ago. CRAP! There’s that lie from Satan again that I believe in now… crap!

Okay, okay - shove it deep down inside of you Sarah, you can deal with all that repressed, doubt-y stuff later! But for now… It’s lab time! YAY! Time to “observe Saturn” and boy doesn’t that sound fun!

We are put into our lab groups, and I’m with some very nice freshmen (greeeeeat).

We gather our materials, read the pre-lab, and head outside with our 5 feet of telescope nestled in our arms. We set up on the quad, and quickly began to bring to reality the most disastrous 45 minutes of my life thus far.

Lab Partner Boy begins by losing a crucial, yet INCREDIBLY TINY screw from the telescope in the grass. (In the dark.) We spend a lengthy amount of time on our hands and knees staring at the ground… not at Saturn.

Lab Partner Girl won’t stop talking. For even two seconds. “Saturn’s THAT way! Being a freshman is so fun! Wow college! Ooh look, a constellation!”

The lab is an utter failure in the way that only a Monday lab can be.

We do not find Saturn. We do not pass go and collect 200 dollars.

All around me I’m hearing the excited gasps of students… “OH there it is! Look at the rings! OH MY GOSH IT HAS MOONS! Oh wow… Saturn is GORGEOUS.”

Meanwhile, I try again and again to get our group’s telescope positioned only to be thwarted by eager, useless freshman. The lab sinks quicker than the titanic, and this time, there are no survivors. Not a single question is answered on my lab, because we didn’t find Saturn and we suck.

I go up to my professor after lab and ask if there’s anything I can do to make up the missing credit, and all he says is, “No, there’s no way to make up from failing the first lab because people don’t fail the first lab.” He gives me stern look of pity from behind his bushy eyebrows and I head to my car, where I cry.

The entire ride home I see the distant orange glow of Saturn in the southwestern sky. Saturn’s mocking me! MOCKING me!

And so, upon arriving home I debriefed with the fam (who also had a bad Monday, involving rapid dogs and fights and neighborly conflicts, oh my!) and took a bath.

I used half a gallon of bubble bath, and washed all that gross Monday off of me. And then I climbed into bed, and I slept like a baby.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! And Other Emotions

My first week of classes officially ended this past Thursday.

That's right baby, I ain't got no Friday classes!

*sigh of relief*

My first week being thrown in the deep end of academia was a bit wild. Only because I feel like I've been OUT there, now... you know. OUT THERE. And now I'm back in this place where they say, "you won't always be in school..." "when you're out of school..." "when school is no longer your main priority..." etc.

AND IT IRKS ME. Because *sniff of superiority* I know dat life.

So, I'm having to come down a few pegs, humble myself, and realise that (in all honesty) I NEED this education and it's a privilege I'm able to waltz back in and get it. Many people leave school early for a "break", get jobs, and find themselves caught in the washing machine cycle of life, unable to escape once they are in debt, have lots of bills, lives to maintain, yada yada yee yah.

Truly, I'm glad I never got stuck out there in an hourly job. Getting back into classes has sparked my interest in the things I was previously studying. Over my time off, I was starting to worry that all I wanted to do was work a 9-5, come home and read books, and occasionally volunteer somewhere nice.

NOPE! My accounting class, of all things, gives me little shivers of excitement when I see the gigantic numbers all balancing out. I have the business bug.

I try to fight it, but it's there! I've had many bugs in my day - the lit bug, the clay bug, the camp bug - but the BUSINESS bug is the bug I want to keep around. The business bug can fund other bugs. Ya get me?

School is good. I'm glad to be back. It's taking some time to readjust to the parts I hate (busy work. group projects. talking to people.) BUT IT IS GOOD.

*deep breath*

STAY TUNEDDDDD

Sarah Goes to College

So, today was the first day of classes.

My first class was a basic, general ed requirement that EVERY student at my school needs to graduate. It's a humanities lecture course, and also my FIRST lecture course ever!

I found my assigned seat (crazy, right?!) in the hall of 300 students. LET ME SAY THAT AGAIN:

THREE HUNDRED! Wow, must be so scary to get up and talk in front of all those people, right? *foreshadowing dooo doooooooooololololoooooooo*

Then we went on to talk about vases and tablets and Greece and museums and who owns art anyway etc etc etc.

The lecture continues, and eventually, the professor says, "Okay, I need some volunteer help!"

I'm like... GO UP THERE?! WITH HIM?! Never.

But then no one volunteers.

And still, no one. Things are getting awkward. The professor is now threatening to "PICK SOMEONE" so, naturally, like the camp counselor we all know I am, I am overcome by an awful compulsion. It felt like an invisible force was raising my hand against my will!

Normal self: Camp Counselor self, you STOP IT RIGHT NOW!
Counselor self: Sarah, no one is volunteering! You need to take some initiative.
Normal self: I don't waaaaant to! That's scary!
Counselor self: They're just people, and look at that professor. How would you feel if no one engaged with you at camp, hmmm?
Normal self: *struggling to keep hand lowered* That.. never... happened!
Counselor self: I'm sorry, but.... *forces hand into air*

Professor: Oh, lady in the back, come on down!
Me: *awkwardly climbs over 20 people to get out of my row*
Professor: I'd like you to analyze this 3rd century Mandarin text. *smiles nonchalantly* I'll translate it for you. Once upon a time, there was a queen who was near death and she told her vizier to kill her husband and bury him with her. The vizier said, "are people conscious after death?" and the queen said, "no." Well then, why must your husband be killed? Plus, if people are conscious after death, your ex-husband who died a long time ago is probably waiting for you with vengeance." And so the queen decided not to carry out her plan.
Me: *blinking*
Professor: So, I'd like your thoughts on the cultural context of this piece and its purpose in 3rd-century Chinese literature.
Me: *stares out at 300 people* O.... K....

And, well, I'll spare you what happened after that. Needless to say, it wasn't good.

The day only got more overwhelming from that point. My next class was Latin II. I took Latin I in ninth grade. So, it goes without saying I am a bit rusty, and I think the entire class caught on during our "oral pop quiz". *wipes sweat off forehead*

(I later dropped the Latin class.)

It was a tough day, this whole "school" thing. But, I think we can all agree that tomorrow will be better, as it's the day I have MATH class!

*horror movie music* STAY TUNEDDDDDDDDD

You've Posted HOW MANY BLAHGS?! (100th Post Special!)

I just wanted to take a second to congratulate us all for getting to this amazing milestone. *dabs tissue in corner of eye*

Somehow, between the yet-unknown-number-of-you and myself, we've brought this little Blahg up to 100 posts and over 10,000 hits since I started it in January!

WOO HOO!

While I've been posting less material over the summer because of limited access to things like wifi and, oh - TIME - I've still appreciated every read, comment, and share that I've gotten from you all out there. *stares into the void that is the internet*

So, THANK YOU!

I've learned throughout this little endeavor that people care about what I have to say. People care about me. That's quite a realization, one that has made my life better in many small ways.

Thank you for letting me speak, scream, heal, and laugh-out-loud here on this seemingly useless web page. It's been so much fun! 

And it seems fitting this milestone hits me at this time of the year, as it's a turning point for me personally. Looming up ahead is a brand new school year, new jobs, new people, and even a few international traveling plans. ;)

But pshhh, none of those things matter now that I've got this achievement. I can fail all my classes while resting comfortably in the knowledge that hey, at least I wrote 100 things on the internet.

Thank you!

Resurrection

When I first arrived home in Asheville nearly a year ago - distraught, disoriented, and reeling from overwhelming long-term abuse and trauma, I couldn't even find solace in my childhood bed.

For many nights in a row I curled up under the heavy bedspread, squeezed my eyes shut, and prayed for relief from this unwanted reality. Instead of relief, nights gave me the opposite. I was dragged down into a world of the subconscious, where my experiences became fresh and intense again in my nightmares.

One recurring episode consisted of him standing in front of me. He was angry, fists clenched. Eyes narrowed. Intentions strong. But, I fought him. I fought. I fought. I won. I won!

He fell to the ground, and stayed there, lifeless. Gone.

A flood of relief: I won. It was over, breathe, breathe, breathe. Safe, safe, safe.

But then suddenly, just as I'd regained my breath, he rose up again, towering over me and locking eyes like an fearless animal, and the whole pattern began again.

I had this dream constantly, to the point where even after it stopped being a dream it stayed a mental image in my mind for months. It came to me in the most unwanted times this summer. During yoga. During vespers. Meals. Staff retreat. I could be safely nestled in the loving admiration of twenty children and a dozen loving coworkers and that image still burned in my mind.

It's a accurate metaphor for how my year has been since that heartbreaking battle at my apartment in Atlanta.

I keep thinking things are done; things are resolved. I keep thinking, perhaps naively, that I've finally won. I've been to a scarce amount of therapy, I've journaled, blogged, talked, ranted, cried, screamed, and prayed. For a year. How much longer must I keep catching my breath only to be grabbed back into the wrestling match?

I rocked quietly in the heavy wooden chair on the porch of the dining hall and confided these fears in an older figure I admire. She looked at me intently and started revealing the worn threads of her own haunting fight, one that has been going on longer than mine.

"He broke my heart," she said. "It's still broken."

It was like hearing myself speak a few years from now, and it gave me shudders of nervousness.

I don't mean to portray that I'm not okay. I am okay. I'm great. I had a wonderful summer, an amazing summer - filled with joy and achievement and fulfillment! Life has carried me forward into new things, new friends. I love life. Despite, and in spite of everything.

But always, in the shadows backstage, this battle threatens me. It scares me. While the moments in-between the sick and twisted "resurrections" grow longer, the adrenaline never lessens, the panic never dims. And furthermore, there's somehow a hopelessness that can start to set in. Weariness. I don't want to say it, but sometimes, despair.

But then, this week, during one of my first nights back home in my childhood bed after a summer away, I had a dream. A vivid, intense, saturated dream. I turned the corner of a building and there he was.

(Deep breath)

I tried to run but was brought down by the ankles to the hard concrete. And then he was punching, hitting, you know. All that. And suddenly I had a bird's eye view of myself being pummeled, and then just as suddenly, I saw a close-up image of my heart inside my body. Every time I was hit, it shuddered. It split. It caved. And then it beat.

As it beat, it stretched. Each separate piece of my broken heart stretched, as if reaching for its lost counterparts, and my split heart was literally committing mitosis before my eyes, breaking, stretching, healing; breaking, stretching, healing. Eventually, it burst out of my body and continued this overpowering sequence.

And finally, my (strange, incomprehensibly huge) heart was knit around even the outermost parts of my body, and I was completely hidden in a womb-like structure, wrapped in sinewy armor, curled up inside a giant, beating chamber. Safe.

I don't know what this means; I don't even know if it's that comforting. It's confusing. Intense. I don't understand the layers of consciousness and how they react to trauma; I'm no therapist. But I do know that this image of building an armor about myself brings a new meaning to the idea of resurrection that had haunted me previously.

And so, the war continues.

Florida: I WENT THERE

I'm suffering from some really real writer's block. I know I say that a lot, but for real, I've started four or five blog posts that I've ended up chucking after a paragraph or two. I'm not even sure if the problem is that I've got "nothing to say" - it may just be that I have TOO MUCH to write about! My mind is brimming with memories of camp, thoughts on my personal development, plans for the future, hopes and fears and dreams and changes...

How am I supposed to narrow it down and give you something coherent and understandable!?

So, naturally, I'm just going to do what I always do - type in a title, and then start writing about that thing in this very text box. *clears throat* Here we go.

Good morning class, today I've chosen

FLORIDA FLORIDA FLORIDA FLORIDA FLORIDA

As our topic!

Many of you know I went to Florida, but NOT many of you know just what I did there. *smug smile*

But really guys it rained every day we were there. I went to the beach approximately TWO times, one of which was at 11 PM at night (does it even count as "the beach" if it's dark and raining?! Yeah I thought not). But you know what... it doesn't matter what I did. It was the people I was with that made the trip fun. I WENT WITH MY FRIENDS! *bats eyelashes*

My wonderful, my amazing, my OH-SO-AWESOME friend Kat offered to host us all at her house in Tampa. Now, Kat and I go waaaay back. Back to June, actually, where she was the first person I met upon stepping foot onto Camp Watia's virgin soil. Kat was a sweetheart from the start, and while I saw her daily at the waterfront where she lifeguarded, we didn't truly connect on a deeper level until the last few weeks of camp, where we became fast friends and spent many a night on the porches of our cabins, complaining talking together.

So, the end of camp came - *emotional montage of crying counselors, kids packing their stuff, lots of candles, blah-de-blah* - AND WE WERE ALL OFF TO FLORIDA!

I myself loaded up a car full of counselors and luggage, and we braved the ten hour drive while the rest flew. The drive was EASY! I was amazed. With some podcasts, snacks, and really fun people, the trip felt easier than driving to work in the morning (almost).

Immediately upon arrival several of us took a speedy tour of Kat's house and then dove into her gorgeous pool! It was the beginning of a beautiful week. Throughout our six days there, I experienced many wonderful things - shopping malls... greek restaurants... even DISNEYWORLD!

The week was, all at once, a whirlwind of fun, and also a slow death of our summer. Each day I became aware that like each week we had at Watia, the days get progressively faster throughout the week. The closer you get to people, the closer you get to saying goodbye to them.

*thoughtful moment*

SO YEAH WE SAID GOODBYE AND IT WAS SO SAD.

*cries*

The drive back from Tampa was as easy as the ride down, albeit a bit more sober without my sweet friends. I'm now safely settled back at home, planning all kinds of things for the school year - jobs, classes, personal endeavors. You know. The usual.

And that brings us to the end of this post, which makes in retrospect about as little sense as I expected it to. Bear with me as I throw myself back into this strange and modern craft of spilling my brains out onto the internet.

School? WHAT IS THAT?!

Today I pulled into my driveway after a ten-hour drive home from Tampa. The drive signified the "death of summer" so to speak. Let's face it: it's pretty much over. Camp ended 12 days ago, but that wasn't really THE end, because I still had our fantastic staff vacation to Florida coming up. And it WAS fantastic. But, alas: it's over.

*stamps feet and whines* It's ovvvveeeerrrrr! 

I'll try to write more about our Florida trip later, but that's not why I brought you here. I brought you here to try to describe the rush of foreshadowing I felt as I unloaded my heavy suitcase from the car. I was tired- nay, exhausted. My back ached. The sun was too bright. Replace the suitcase with a crammed backpack and it could practically be me two weeks from now, trekking home after my first week of classes, exhausted from getting to know a new campus, new classmates, new groove.

See, it's been a year since I participated religiously in "the daily grind" of academia. It's hard to remember that once, in the near distant past, I too was one of those, what are they called...?

STUDENTS.

Yuck! Poor things. I was one of them?! I marched about campus from class to class, assignment to assignment, test to test?! I sat at a DESK? For HOURS?!

Dear Lord - yes - THAT WAS MY LIFE. My whole life! At one point, I was safely secure in my 15th consecutive year of education. I was on track. Actually, I was exactly like one of those little metal cars on a plastic racetrack. My momentum kept me going over every hill I encountered. But then last September happened, and Fate's giant ugly foot came and kicked me across the cold tile.

I mean, it was a good thing. I spent a year working various jobs, reconnecting with friends, traveling to air force bases, READING, and throwing myself into new hobbies (LIKE THIS BLAHG!).

But... now... it's time to get "back on track". And simply put:

I have no momentum. 

So, it's going to be a bit tough. Oftentimes, when I drift into daydreams of the coming school year, I envision myself flouncing around campus in a flattering beige peacoat with perfect hair and red lipstick, or perhaps perching delicately on a window seat in the library and underlining passages from Wuthering Heights while I sip a cup of tea made for me by my wonderful new exchange student boyfriend (who is British, of course).

But... the reality is that it will be much more like the unpacking scenario that happened today. I'll be tired, sweaty, probably alone a lot, and, well... a bit ditzy. (It's unrealistic to think I'll become a level-headed person overnight.)

Regardless, it will be an exciting new chapter, this whole "diving back in" thing. I fully expect this semester to challenge me unlike any semester before. Yet, somehow, that's what I want. Life is far too short to spend it in total contentment. That just sounds awesome boring.

And so, this Blahg post simultaneously ends an era (summer) and opens a new one (school!). I'll be writing a LOT more this fall, especially to rant, whine, vent, and complain about college! *smiles angelically*

Stay tuned, my friends. Sarah Kane is BACK!

He's Got The Whole World In His Hands

Tonight on my drive home from a movie night with new friends, I had the old children's song stuck in my head.

He's got the boys and the girls, in His hands... He's got the whole world in His hands.

And it struck me how deftly God (or whoever/whatever you believe is at work in the universe) has brought aspects of a huge, expansive world right into a small wrinkle in his hands, where I've been sitting in a period of uncertainty.

For instance, when I came home from Agnes Scott College nearly a year ago (party coming up to celebrate my one year mark, woo hoo!) I thought, "well, that's the end of that. Time to go back to poky old home, which I've already outgrown."

And oh-baby-oh, how I was surprised to find out I had certainly NOT outgrown home. There were at least 5 people in Asheville I had not yet met that now, in retrospect, I NEEDED to meet! There were old friends I needed to reconnect with, foster relationships with, share a familiar yet ever-changing existence with.

Just because I was going "home" doesn't mean I was leaving that big old world I thought I was going to miss out on. In fact, this summer I worked closely with several European young adults-- some of whom I now consider my closest friends! Who could have known that coming back to Asheville, to the place I THOUGHT I had exhausted, would actually bring me to a bigger, broader horizon than the one I ran off chasing in the first place?

It's funny, but that's how a lot of things are. Funny. Strange.

And so, I don't know how much longer I'll be here, because I do see other places looming on the horizon. But I know in the meantime, I don't need to run away from here chasing something, because if I really need it, it will be brought here. Even if it's a friend from England or an ad for a camp or a job or a book or a class. Who knows what other treasures I'll find in my time here. There's a whole world here in these hands I'm in.