I learned this week..
…that I’ve successfully conquered another semester – with all A’s, thank you very much. It’s a great feeling, like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders and the road to a carefree summer is now within my grasp. As I drove away from campus yesterday, I was feeling good. I had the windows down, the wind in my hair, and my new Sting compilation cranked up for the whole world to hear. I’m not a believer in a lot of intangible things, but sometimes, ever so subtly, the universe speaks to me. As if on cue, a song with a distinct island vibe began to play. The hustle of midday traffic faded away and I found myself standing on a beach with velvety sand between my toes, a warm sea breeze caressing my skin, and a frozen rum-filled concoction in my hand. Swaying in time to the intoxicating rhythm, I danced in slow drunken circles across the sand, feeling blissfully numb, and raised my glass in one final salutation to the sun as it descended into the abyss…
Yes, I realize that this imagery is probably not what Sting intended when he wrote Love is the Seventh Wave. More likely his intention was to protest Cold War proliferation and all of the evil that went along with it. I’m going to choose to overlook that (and the ridiculous 80’s video) and focus on the drunken beach vacation aspect of it instead.
…that yoga for a grade is over. Of course, as one final insult to the emotional injuries we’ve sustained over the course of the semester, my instructor decided it would be fun to have a party on the day designated for our final exam. If you will remember from last week, we had our final early. We were instructed to bring food – preferably something healthy, in order to keep with the spirit of the class. We all brought store-bought cookies. It was our little bit of revenge. Of course, revenge is one of those things in life that tends to come back and bite you in the ass. In response to our cookie rebellion, she made us watch the video she made of our final. Oh, the agony of defeat.
…that in all the years I’ve watched the summer Olympics, I have never bothered to sit through any of the Equestrian events. It’s not that I don’t like horses, I do. It’s just that I’d much rather watch paint dry than watch a horse and rider navigate through a mindless obstacle course. This year it will be different. I don’t usually watch real-time television. I rely heavily on my DVR. But the other night I happened to catch Rock Center when I was supposed to be studying for my Sociology exam. Harry Smith (who I really sort of despise) did a story about a horse and rider who have both been through serious hell and have barely lived to tell about it. Needless to say, I bawled like a baby and have now committed myself to watching every Equestrian event these two will compete in. I feel that, as an American, it is my patriot duty. Check out Harry Smith’s story Horse Power, but grab a box of tissues first.
…that the Blue Jay who visits the feeder in my backyard teases and taunts me. For weeks, I’ve seen him feeding – nearly every day. For weeks, I’ve tried to sneak a few photographs of him. For weeks, he’s alluded me. No worries, though. I will prevail…if its’ the last thing I do.
…and last, but not least, this week’s awww moment is brought to you by my fat cat, Rollo. Aptly named, he is enjoying a little nap in the warm afternoon sun. What a rough life he leads.