Sunday, February 28, 2010

Inclination for Sleep

I feel I should forewarn my readers...this post in not in the pattern of my others. You will not learn anything about my school life, but about me. Don't worry, I am not about to start sharing my feelings or walk you through a day (although that would seem to fit with the rest of my blog). My blog is not becoming any more personal, but I must write on this.

Sleep has always been a large part of my life. I suppose it is for all babies and toddlers, but I think it is telling that my first clear memory is waking up from my nap at pre-school. I was never one to fuss about taking naps, I might have wanted to continue doing what I was doing, but once lying down, I never complained. (My mother may say otherwise...but this is how I remember it.)

When I was older, and nap was no longer a subject in school, I would nap on the weekends. I can't remember if I took naps on Saturdays, but I can assure you, every Sunday after church I took a nap. At first, I am sure that I took a nap because I needed one, as all small children do. But then, it became a special time for me to spend with my mother. I got to sleep on my dad's side of the bed and cuddle and play with my mom's hair until I feel asleep. I am sure that many times my mother would have liked me to nap in my own room, as I would often prattle on for a while until sleep hit me, but I don't think I ever did nap in my own room. My mom was my nap partner.

This may be more significant than it seems. I am sure not all mother's nap with their children, it is often thought of as quiet time for the parents, but my mom and I always napped together. I suppose my love for naps must have been handed down from her. She is an elementary school teacher and so was always tired as her work was so trying (I think though, she too loves to nap just for the sake of it as I do now).

When I was a little older, probably about fourth to eighth grade, napping became uncool. I am sure I could have used one, but I was a big girl and was given the choice of napping or not. I often flat out choose to not nap, but some days I did choose to nap. I remember nothing was different about those days, I was not more tired, or had less pressing activities, but I wanted to cuddle with my mom. So I would get into my spot, and start pretending to nap. Most times, I couldn't fall asleep and so left after my mom fell asleep to play in my room. I should be clear here, I had other opportunities to spend time with my mom and to cuddle with her, but Sunday afternoons were embedded in my mine as the time to do it.

Later in high school, I became ill and so napping was back in. I would nap after school, sleep in, and go to bed early. I was giving my body the chance to heal. The thing is, I have not recovered from this illness, but it brought napping back into my life. I was more tired than I had been for years and so needed the nap, but I also had desires to nap. Nap time became a time to not do anything. It was at least an hour set aside from my day to not think about school and the work I had to do. I still napped with mother, but something had changed. I did not wake her up as I used to, she woke me up (actually she turned the alarm off and let me sleep as long as I needed to).

My life was not so demanding that I needed to have an excuse to take a break from it, but napping became that, and has stayed that. It draws me in, the warmth of the blankets, the quiet of the room, the free time. I now nap more than most. I often times wake up on the weekend, eat breakfast, and then take a nap. (I am told by my friends that this does not count as a nap, but as going back to bed...it's a nap.) Napping has become ingrained in me. I am often grumpy when I don't get a nap and my naps last longer and longer. I attribute this to the fact that I am just so tired with all my school work, but I must also say I love to nap.

Friday, February 19, 2010

What Makes Us Special

One of the biggest parts of going to an all girls school is the traditions, at least at BM. I never thought that I would find myself in a situation where pagan gods are worshiped and given offerings, May pole dances are celebrated, and freshmen are 'rushed'. No, I am not in a sorority, most all girls schools do not have them, but these things all take place.

Athena, BM's god, is given offerings to help students in both their academic life and their personal lives. While we no longer offer up human sacrifices, or even animal sacrifices, it is tradition for Athena to receive flowers, poems, balloons, and stuffed animals (the toys, not real ones). In return, Athena will watch over you and help you in your endeavors. Athena is such a part of BM that she has her own chant, or rather the students chant to her at any appropriate time (you will find there are no inappropriate times). We thank her for her help and hail her. No, I am not in cult.

One of our biggest. and most loved tradition is what we call Hell Week. While I can not share the secrets of Hell Week, as I swore I would never as a freshmen, I will say that it resembles a sorority rush. Though freshmen have the opportunity to participate or not, this is the biggest bonding week of your entire 4 years here; it is your welcoming into the college.

If any outsider were to show up during one of these traditions, I imagine their eyes would bulge, and their mouths would gape (mine did the first time). But what they would be witnessing is the wonderful community found here. I cannot speak for every all women's colleges, but here we love traditions. It is like we are one large sorority with our latin chants and crazy traditions, but unlike some sororities, everyone is welcomed.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Magical Days

As a Californian snow is a pretty new concept to me. These past couple of days have been filled with stormy weather and snow days. These are pretty new ideas for me, and I expected to be one of the few people on campus with so little experience. It is true that there are many students here from CA and other places that don't get much snow, but I excepted to be the most naive, having only gone snowboarding once and never had tried to downhill ski. It may be that this is simply how I think, always expecting to be the least prepared, but none the less this week has been enlightening.

Apparently, I am not the only one with little snow experience on this campus. In fact, the fact that I had tried snowboarding set me up a rung from those who had never tried. I thought this amazing, as it felt like everyone from home had gone skiing and snowboarding as I kid and I just expected those from parts of the country with snow to have had even more opportunities. What I found was that while the opportunities were indeed plentiful, they were not always taken advantage of. It seems, the more you live in and deal with snow on a daily basis, the more annoying it becomes. I was surprised by the number of girls who had lived in snow their whole lives, but who hated it so much that they don't even want to play with it.

I suppose I'm lucky. Every time we expect snow, my infatuation starts all over again. I get so excited waiting for it to start, and love nothing more than to sit in my window and watch the flakes come down. And once it's on the ground, l can hardly wait to go outside and frolic in it. My guess is that snow will always be as magical to me as it is now, but I worry. I see girls who've lived in snow groan about the forecast and then stay locked in doors on snow days. I can't imagine! Having never had a snow day before, I can't wait to get outside and get the most of it. Maybe it's that I'm immature. Maybe it will soon start to get old. Maybe one day I too will wish for the snow to melt. But right now, I do not know that girl I may become. Every storm is a new adventure waiting for me. And let me just say, I'm waiting for it.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Myself - at school

Writing this blog has forced me to become a narrator in a semi-autobiographical way. It is true that I am writing solely about myself, but through my writing, the reader is able to glimpse pieces of myself, or at least one of my selves. To say that there is a coherent self would be false, for I believe that there are many selfs within our one being. In this blog, I am not showing the reader a coherent life story, or even a partial autobiography. My self is only visible through the hints in the writing.

And which self would that be?

I am surely not sharing my private self, but a public self, one that I am comfortable sharing the world at large. I share personal opinions, yes, but ones that I know to be safe to share, ones that I don't mind other's knowing I believe in. And I certainty am not sharing a self in a set time. I may write posts at specific times in my history, but they are not attached to previous events or emotions in my life.

No one can know me completely by reading what I write.

I do, however, let slip a calculated self that is evident through my voice and topics. If one were to know me previous to the publications of this blog, it may seem as though I am sharing myself with the world. But I am not comfortable sharing my whole self with anyone, for when I do, it is no longer MYself, but a shared self.