Rubber Ducky Time

Yeah, so there's a giant rubber ducky in Pittsburgh.

 

Pittsburgh resident Jim Baur was on hand for the festivities, enjoying his city’s newly found cultural cache. “You couldn’t help but stare at the duck,” he says, “if nothing else but to try to continually reassure your brain that yes, in fact, there is a 40′ rubber ducky floating in the river.”
“As stupid as it felt to be there in the name of a rubber duck, it was also a lot of fun.”

'Tis Junior Year

Lessons I have learned thus far in junior year:

• There's something less fun than arriving late to a final. It's having 65 pages you've written of a novel thus far die in a flash drive accident.
• Any food you can cook in a microwave is automatically awesome.
• "Academic Integrity" in a literary criticism class is approximately as chimeric as "Military Intelligence."
• Chocolate.
• Education professors are always the best.
• Smallpox seriously sucked. And it isn't yet extinct.

Moving on with life.

Thought of the Day

Arriving to a final exam half an hour late, thinking you're half an hour early, is about as not-fun as it gets.

What Was Really Said at Agincourt

My brain on literature at 11pm. Source material is in Act IV Scene 3 of Shakespeare's "Henry V."

If we are marked to fail, we are enow
To do our campus loss, and if to pass
The more exams, the greater share of honor.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one test less.
By Jove, I am not covetous for tech
Nor care I who doth study from my notes
It yearns me not if coffee does not flow
Such outward things lie not in my concerns
But if it be a sin to wish B's and A's,
I am the most offending student here.
No, faith, classmates, wish not a paper less.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honor
As one page less methinks would share from me
For the best grades I have. O, do not wish one less!
Rather proclaim in classrooms through the school
That student with no courage for this week
Let him depart; his grade sheet shall be made
He'll call for convoy to bring him back home.
We would not fail in that man's company
That fears his GPA to fail with us.
This month contains the dreaded finals week.
He who succeeds this day and goes glad home
Shall stand tiptoe when next semester comes
And strive again at the words "finals week."
He who shall pass this day, and graduate,
Shall yearly on the vigil tell his neighbors;
Say, "Tomorrow college kids will graduate."
Dumb kids forget, yet all shall be forgot,
But we'll remember, with advantages,
What deeds we do these days. Then shall those names
Professor such, my study buddies now,
My tutor or adviser or deskmate,
Shall be in our soda cans remembered.
With this tale parents can scare their kids,
And semester's end shall ne'er e'er go by
From this day to the end of our degrees
But headaches now shall be remembered
We few, we sleepy few, we band of brothers,
For he this day who draws pencil with me
Shall be my brother, though he be grouchy;
This day gentles no person's condition.
And dropouts in their basements now abed
Though feeling so relieved they are not here
Shall hold their caffeine cheap whiles any speaks
Who lived through yet another finals week.

The Literary Trial of Doctor Faustus

After individual preparation, in British Literature class this morning we put Dr. Faustus, from Marlowe's play, on trial for his soul.
I had been quite excited for this particular assignment since I'd heard about it, as it looked like a) fun role-acting (hey, I like acting) and b) a good opportunity to share the Gospel. What concerned me primarily was how to present it in a way that wouldn't let us lose like the other classes, who must have used the Bible as well. I served as one of the seven witnesses for the defense.

We were, obviously, outnumbered by the prosecution, which numbered in the teens. Two people who had served as judges for previous semesters were pulled in, and our professor served as bailiff and videographer.
Basically, we juggled back and forth between "Faustus did such-and-such!" Us: "But he repented." Them: "He didn't get the chance to prove it, so he didn't." Us: "It's an act of the heart." We found ourselves almost getting into theology every once in a while.
The big issue that came up repeatedly was essentially the validity of Faustus' deathbed repentance, and the prosecution leaned on the text, while we leaned on the text and the Bible. (Let me take this as an opportunity to shamelessly advertise for biblegateway.com. 'Tis no end of useful.) There were minor issues, but we as the defense always went back to his repentance and the Gospel.
Two issues went to the prosecution and two went to us, leading to a tie score and Faustus in Purgatory by the time it was over. Class went late. I don't often lose track of time in a class, but I did today, and was disappointed that it had to end - I thought, and think still, that given more time we could have won.

Clarifying an issue of Scripture with a classmate for a few minutes after class, I found myself upon departure alone in discussion with my professor, who told me that over the course of 8-9 semesters, we were the first group to build our logic off of, or indeed to make use of, the Bible. I was shocked. How do you defend Faustus without the Gospel?
As it turns out, you don't. My professor said that she has never had a group actually save him, but that she thinks that because of what we did, given more time, she thinks we may have won - beaten the utterly stacked deck of Dr. Faustus' record.

This is, I think, an excellent metaphor for human need for the Gospel.

It turned out later that the 11 am section actually saved Faustus. I'm curious to find out how...if they did it without the Bible I'll eat my textbook.

Boston Marathon

I first heard of the news currently sweeping the nation when my brother called home yesterday from the military base where he is stationed on the West Coast, at about 3 in the afternoon, in order to ask if we were all right.

Boston is my adoptive city. While I don't live there, my church home is in downtown Boston, along with many, many people I love and care about. My first few days of life were spent in Boston, after being rushed to the Floating Hospital immediately after birth. There is no counting the number of nights I have spent there, with friends at church before community service projects, with friends at their homes, etc. My coming to faith and growth as a believer happened almost entirely there, along with uncounted hours of work and of leisure, enjoying the city and the company of others.
Flying into Logan or even taking the T into one of the commuter rail stations gives me a warm fuzzy feeling - "I'm home."

The first few hours were spent watching the news, watching Facebook as people logged on to let people know that they were unhurt. I have yet to hear back from one of my youngest brother's youth leaders, who lives nearby and is just the athletic type to go to the marathon. One dear friend of mine was at the blast site an hour before the explosions, and by God's grace she and her family left earlier than they had planned, for reasons that seemed inconvenient at the time...
Facebook and Instagram (and presumably Twitter) came alive with people reassuring others, people posting messages of support, people trying to contact loved ones after the cell phone service was shut down, reportedly to prevent remote detonation of other explosive devices.
Stories of determination and heroism have been pouring in - marathon runners finishing and continuing to run to MGH to donate blood, running to the medical tent saying, "I'm a doctor, I'm a nurse. How can I help?" In addition, expressions of unity and sympathy have been flooding the country. Americans seem to come to our best immediately after disasters, going out of the way to demonstrate support, to raise money, to collect blood, to just be united for once.

   

Naturally, politicizing of the event has begun, and with it the whining about the politicizing. However, that isn't what to focus on. With God's help, we will rebuild and heal, and prevent it from happening again. The reaction of America to the tragedy in Boston is touching and heartwarming, regardless of the circumstances, and while humanity's depravity can be breathtaking, so can its altruism.

Prayers go out to the casualties and their loved ones.

Every Boring First Blog Post

The first post of a blog is typically dead boring. "Hi, here's a few things about me."
Well, why break a perfectly good tradition?
I'm studying Elementary Education at a state university, and minoring in English literature, after transferring from a community college at which I dual-enrolled for three years (beginning at fifteen) and matriculated for one more semester. I play the fife and march with two (and occasionally my old junior) fife and drum corps. (The fife and drum world is really more like a cult, so expect to hear more about it.) I've done a bit of Shakespeare, "The Merchant of Venice" and "Hamlet," and studied karate for about five to six years when I was really little (departing at 13 with a first-degree black belt). Plus, I really like parentheses.
The most important thing to know about me, really the only important thing, is that Jesus loves me...and you...and I want people to know that He loves them.