The Flood

I'm sitting in the cafe in downtown Northfield that Oles and Carls alike frequent for studying. It's called "Goodbye Blue Monday". I'm not exactly sure what the history of the name is; I honestly don't care enough to find out. I don't come to town very often, because truly, why would I? Campus have everything I really need. Since some 95% of students live on campus all four years, student life is vibrant (not that I do much with other human beings), we have our own café (called The Cage; it's a popular study spot, and I often go there after practicing in the evening for a café au lait and and egg and cheese bagel), we have many, 350 acres of nature preserve, and plenty of concerts. This is all to say that the mile or so walk isn't really worth it to me, though I do occasionally stop by the small Mexican market at the end of Ole Avenue for a tamal or tamarind candy or some dried mango with chili and lemon.

It's parents' weekend at St. Olaf (and possibly Carleton? I don't keep track), and I often find myself in town when there are lots of parents around. I'm not sure why that is. Maybe it's that I'm missing my own family? I don't think so. Maybe it's peoplewatching. That could well be it. And often, people bring their dogs which is a bonus. Today in particular I came down to see the flooding. The river is some 8 feet higher than usual right now. The riverwalk is completely submerged, and two bridges are closed for danger of more flooding. Rice county is still on flood watch, I think. It simply will not stop raining. St. Olaf is up on the hill, so we're safe, but it's very scary for the farmlands in the area.

On another note entirely, I had my first dream in a long time about my childhood church. I dreamt I was home to see a concert there in which Gloria was playing. I tried to walk into the sanctuary but was accosted by one of the clergy, who was standing in the doorway handing out programs. I had to physically fight her to get past. I didn't knock her out, but came close. I wasn't forced or even asked to leave by anyone after that—I had reclaimed the space, and I listened to the concert in peace. On awakening, I was less out-of-sorts that one might expect. I lay there and just sort of blankly stared at the window for a long time.

Nothing, Really

It's half-past midnight and I have an 8am class tomorrow (International Relations, in case you were wondering, though I'm sure you weren't), but sleep is distant. My brain is awake, and there's nothing to be done for that. 

I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea to post on this deserted blog at this time. I was thinking about the "Tie That Binds" entry and came back and read it a few times over... I don't know why that wasn't enough; just to read it and then go play some dumb game on my phone til my eyes crossed (I'm all about Two Dots, personally). Maybe I just noticed that I haven't posted in a while and thought I should. Or maybe I was so haunted by rereading that post that I felt I had to sort out my feelings or something. I don't know. The exhausted brain works in mysterious ways. 

Well, I suppose I should mention that I'm back at St. Olaf after a long summer of waffling about and trying to decide if returning was worth the risk of crashing and burning, or if I was ready to go back at all. Anyway, here I am, thanks to my parents' generosity toward the education we all hope I'll get. That is, we hope I'll get it without any more visits to the psychiatric ward. 

I've finally started organ lessons. My skills going in were rudimentary at best, but I'm quickly making great strides. That's not to brag; that's to say that not only do I study with a very fine instructor, but study of the organ feels far more natural to me than study of piano ever did. When I first sat down to practice on the tracker organ in the recital hall, it felt as if I should have been there my entire life. Practicing is so gratifying, too. I feel my body slowly beginning to fit into the sleeve of an organist. My very first organ shoes are coming in the mail soon. I'm almost fit to be a real musician now. Every person to call himself a musician should study organ. The organ makes use of the entire human body and strings together the senses in a manner unlike any other instrument or form of musicianship. Mozart was quite correct in his assertion that the organ is "the king of instruments". That was probably the only thing Mozart was ever correct about in his short life. (Go on, ask me how I feel about Mozart.)

I also joined one of the non-first-year choirs. I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but more on that later. And I'm back in chamber choir. Those rehearsals remain my favorite parts of the week, mostly because early music, but I also really like to sing in chamber ensembles, and Therees is a great person with whom to do so. 

My head is hurting. Time to stop looking at a screen. Goodnight.