the track record for posting a follow-up blurb after saying “it’s been a while” is pretty low. but i’m done with grad school. time suddenly appears, right? in any case, here we are again.
you know what grinds my gears? grinding gears.
it’s true. i am currently on my second flight of the day headed home for the holidays. for about twenty minutes–the time between the door closing and five minutes after i was allowed to used ‘approved electronic devices including cellular phones’–the sound of gears rotating left a few of us passengers a little nervous. the guy sitting next to me wanted a refund on his flight and vowed to never fly again. seriously. people get pretty anxious about the littlest things, if you ask me.
as some theology students love to say, i’m gonna dovetail on that last bit and say a few things…
1.) who still says ‘cellular phone’?! i mean, it’s almost 2011.
2.) refund? sue the airline for compensation? free booze? (yes, brosef sitting in the window seat added these things as well) calm. down.
3.) in all reality, i think this plane flew it’s 100th flight in 1997. about the same time it became passé to say ‘cellular phone.’ i’m thankful the gears made up with the wd-40.
here’s the honest truth: school’s out. for a while. and i’m super pumped. in my quest for finding some ways to celebrate, i picked up an old favorite, the catcher in the rye. i read it in high school, and it was again required in my first year seminar class at mercer. with its young adult angst and quest for meaning in the big city, i thought it fitting that i once again read the literary classic (also, it serves as a bit of a tribute to salinger, who died earlier this year).
it’s easy to see that holden goes off the deep end fairly early. if i remember correctly (i still have about 4o pages left to read), he is telling his story retrospectively. during his date with sally, though, holden begins to put the pieces together:
did you ever get fed up? i mean did you ever get scared that every thing was going to go lousy unless you did something?…that’s my point. i don’t hardly anything out of anything. i’m in bad shape. i’m in lousy shape.
it wasn’t until this third reading that i caught sally’s response to caulfield’s accusation that she didn’t understand him. she says, “maybe i don’t! maybe you don’t either.”
this past quarter has had it’s ups and downs. mostly downs. maybe that’s a little much. simply put, i’ve been underwhelmed. really, i have. (sidenote: can one be simply whelmed? food for thought.) nothing major, just lackluster. of the books that i’ve read since the call of the wild back in mrs. byerts 8th grade english class, i find some connection to holden caulfield. but i needed to be reminded that maybe i don’t understand either.
this post may not make much sense to anyone, but i’m just nurturing my inner holden caulfield–short sentences, bleak outlook, and senseless details included. the reality is, the quarter ended well, and life is good. grinding gears aren’t the end of the world.
and thus is my return to external processing through a nesting place, my place to ask where the ducks go when the lagoon gets all icy and frozen over. the place to once again ask–as i sit in the air (thank you, louis ck, below)…do [i] ever stop migrating?