Boethius, Sophocles, & Robert Fagles

Yes, I'm at college, and yes, it's been a blast. My roommate and I have similar habits, I just spent $271.56 on books for two classes (which is far less than I was expecting), and I recently learned that I can take Latin I this quarter after all (although I had to drop Ice Skating I). God has been so good about giving me the enthusiasm I need to step out of my comfort zone and meet several dozen new people. Of course, as in all things, choices must be made. This is the one I faced last night.

1. Attend the '80s party thrown by the Student Association, catch up with old friends, and get free pizza.

- OR -

2. Install virus protection on my computer, read an extra chapter of Isaiah, and go to bed early.

Predictably, I chose Door #3. I guess I felt like I had to make up for camp, during which I did not attend a single staff party, so I was at the party until 7.15 p.m., and then I went to bed. Wild and crazy of me, I know.

Well, I should go see what's for supper.

~`~`Cello Girl

The Dangers of Spanish Opera

I've recently delved back into my CD of Spanish music (Lalo, Rodrigo, Turino, Arriaga, de Falla, and Granados), and it is very dangerous, especially when it's raining - one more round of the Los Esclaves overture and I'll be reaching for my castanets. Fortunately, I've been busy packing for college. It's rather hard to balance between being prepared and being psychotic. I mean, how many pairs of socks should I take? Should I take both my ELS quilt and the quilt my great-grandmother made? What will my roommate think of my colour scheme? What's the point of a dorm room anyway? Can't I just string a hammock between two trees and call it good?
I can hear you raising your eyebrows, and I know what thought is foremost in your mind. It's not, "What if it rains?" Nor is it, "Where would you plug in your electric toothbrush?" It's more along these lines:
You have a colour scheme?
Good question. Of course I have a colour scheme. It's not as narrow as some people's, either. It's more of the red-yellow-blue-green-white-pink variety, with a heavy emphasis on green. If I learned anything in the laundry room - excuse me, I meant the Textiles Maintenance Facilitation Headquarters - it's that colour matters. I took down most of my decorations on the last Friday of camp, not expecting to spend much more time in there, and when I had to do some last-minute Textiles Maintaining on Sunday, it nearly drove me round the bend. The walls were white, the cupboards (sans calendar) were white, the floor (sans floormat) was the dingy grey of concrete which has probably never been mopped in its life (and was certainly never mopped properly that summer), the dryers no longer had their cheerily coloured skirts of leftover valances, and I had nowhere to sit except an upturned milk crate which completely lacked the comfortable charm of the folding camp chair I had been using all summer. Add to that the fact that I had already packed all of my reading material into the car and was faced with reading either the label on the bleach bottle ("Probable mucosal damage may contraindicate the use of gastric lavage") or a dog-eared copy of Machiavelli's The Prince, left in the cupboard by a former occupant, and you have a laundry girl with a very bad attitude indeed.Needless to say, I learned from that experience, and I plan to be comfortable at college. Yes, I'm on the noisiest floor in the dorm, but I plan to be warm, dry, and within easy reach of interesting reading material.
And maybe a little Spanish opera too.

Home again, home again

Okay, so we didn't make it to Walden Pond.
But we did make it to Concord and Lexington, Plymouth, and many of the sights in Boston. The Freedom Trail is definitely a must-see; I also recommend a Boston Ducks tour and a visit to Orchard House. Plymouth Rock was a bit of a disappointment. They're currently doing construction on the shelter covering the Rock, so you walk along the sidewalk, come to an alcove, and look down, and there's this big thing that looks like a chunk of concrete, and that's the famous Plymouth Rock. (Ho-hum, time for lunch.) All in all, though, we had a marvellous time, and I learned three helpful things:

1. Don't pack all of your books in your carry-on bag.
2. Backpacks aren't allowed in the Museum of Fine Arts.
3. Don't dis the Red Sox.

Something that's not usually in the guidebooks is Marshall Street in Boston. It has some great old buildings, including John Hancock's house, which is not a museum but at least it's been shown a little more respect than has the Old State House, which now has a subway station in its basement. (And the site of the Boston Massacre is now a traffic island. Go figure.) I highly recommend the trolley tour between Concord and Lexington; the guides are very knowledgeable about the area and its history. For example, did you know that when John Hancock fled Lexington, he packed seven trunks of clothing but left behind the trunk containing some very important documents? Paul Revere had to rescue it after the British Regulars released him. And if it weren't for Dr Samuel Prescott's courtship with Lydia Mulligan, Concord would probably never have been warned that the Regulars were coming, and the entire stockpile of weapons would have been confiscated and the planned rebellion would have gone up in a puff of smoke. Truly scary, when you see what history hinges on sometimes. Look at Gavrilo Princip and his pastrami sandwich. If he had only ordered it with mustard, or had to dig through his pockets looking for money, or taken just a little more time in the shop, he wouldn't have been on the street when the Archduke's motorcade drove by. Instead, there he was, and there it was, and World War One began.

Anyhow, it's good to be home and hard to believe that I leave for college in a little over a week.

Until next time,

~`~`Cello Girl

(девушка виолончели in Russian; 첼로 소녀 in Korean)