In Which I Get Nostalgic...

In the final analysis, I'm awfully glad it's over. My sermon, that is. There's something to be said for going first. I think that everyone on earth is divided into two cateogries: those who go first, and those who go last. Each category reflects a deep philosophical conviction.

Those who want to go first, like myself, tend to live and die by the following ethos: get it the heck over with! There's no point in waiting until everyone else has gone; if you go first, you get to set that bar. And then no matter who comes after you, you have no opportunity to over-analyze or re-think your presentation because it's already done. The weight comes off your shoulders early. The only downside is that others can see what you've done and adjust their presentation accordingly, learning from your mistakes and doing it better than you.

Those who like to go last, like many of my classmates (on sign-up day, you have to almost get into a physical altercation to get the last slots; I just wait until the bodies have settled and then calmly move in and secure that first-day spot), live and die by this ethos: let someone else chart the course--I'm just a follower. Okay, there's my bias coming through. But seriously, I don't think this is a good place to live. Come on, be a leader! Set the trends! Make them all follow you!

Anyway, I had a "best of both worlds" kind of situation today--I was the last one to preach on the first day of preaching. I didn't leave thinking that I'd have to match my upcoming sermon to the level of today's presenters, but I also had time to see what I liked and disliked about the first three presenters, and hear what the class (and the prof) had to say, and could make subtle changes to my delivery as needed. Content didn't change, but style did, if only slightly.

What was the end result? Success. At least I hope so. People seemed to react positively to it, at least, which is always a good sign, especially when your peers are evaluating you. If their initial reactions were strong, that's likely what they put on their evaluation sheets. I won't know for sure until I get my grade back next class, but I'm cautiously optimistic.

One down, two to go. Plus another class presentation for another class. Things are moving along this semester at a startling pace, actually. Just yesterday, I had a sudden realization of exactly how far behind I've gotten in my reading for my distance education courses (three of my courses are on-campus, two are distance). Yikes. It's led to two days of intensive reading, with two more planned. One thing about reading all day, though, is the high degree of strain on your eyes when the day is done. My neck feels like it's made of rebar, and my head feels like I've been hitting myself with the books instead of reading them. The price you pay to be a student, I guess. I'm not complaining--I'm here for a purpose, and that purpose is being fulfilled.

In other news, I checked my graduation requirements today, just to make sure I'm on track with where I'm supposed to be. You have to fill out an application to graduate, and, at Prairie, you have to be interviewed by a candidature committee to see if you meet the graduation criteria (mainly they're looking for spiritual readiness). I wonder if that committee has ever turned anyone down before? It's an interesting thought--you can fulfill all the academic requirements for graduation, and yet not be allowed to graduate. Only at a Christian college could they get away with that.

Anyway, I submitted said application some time ago, but hadn't heard anything since, so I looked in my academic guide to see if I should be concerned. Sure enough, the application deadline isn't until November, and candidature interviews don't have to be completed until March, so I'm good. Oh, wait, what's this? Graduation applications must be received by November 15 of your third year? Uh oh. Um, I have every intention of graduating this year, so I hope we can come to some kind of understanding. Stay tuned.

Other than all that, it was another stunningly normal day. Had a nice late-afternoon rain storm, by which I mean that (a) I wasn't out in it, and (b) it wasn't snow. One thing about living in a mobile home is that the roof is that much closer to the ceiling (i.e. it has no attic), and so the sound of the rain on the roof is magnified. That's a great sound, in my opinion. Somehow, the rhythmic drum of rain against the roof has an almost hypnotic effect. It seems that no matter what kind of day you're having, that sound always brings you back to when your life was simpler. When a rainy day meant that instead of going outdoors to play with your friends, you stayed in and read a book. Or dozed in a chair. Or had hot chocolate.

For me, the sound of rain always conjures up images of driving around town with my dad in his old blue Toyota Corolla. The sound of the rain on the roof of the car is something I'll never forget, and neither will I forget the sound of the wipers keeping up their steady assault against reduced visibility. Those wipers had a very distinct mechanical sound, characteristic of the 80's when cars were built for function rather than style. The fact that you could hear the wiper motor wasn't disturbing, because, unlike today's cars, we were accustomed to a little bit of noise when we drove. Especially when you were on the highway. Then the car got so loud that you had to crank your radio all the way to be heard, or you had to yell at each other to have a conversation. And you could actually diagnose and fix problems with your car without having to have a degree in computer science.

Sweet nostalgia. Where would my life be without you? It'd be pretty boring, that's what. Time for bed, methinks. Thanks for stopping by and mulling over my philosophical rantings. I appreciate the hit on my counter and the boost to my ego. See you again tomorrow for the exciting Friday edition.