A long time ago I was beginning the semester; now, I’m fully in the heat-of-things and trying to catch my breath. One would think my life would be simple. I’ve graduated. I’m not taking classes. I’m working at a paying job. I’m taking my time and visiting graduate schools. What isn’t ordered in all of this? – my life’s rhythm.

Added to a staff above my memories of last spring, I’ve complicated my life by also syncopating it with a spastic rhythm. There is no line of continuity in everything that occurs, instead I’m simply adding partially-overlapping layers on each other to make it all connect. Take my social life for example. The times I schedule myself the most and arrange my life in a break-neck pace are the times when I am rooted to a particular place: my busiest times in Ft. Worth are the solid periods where I’m housesitting for Dr. Schmidt and Judy. The times I’m staying the nights at friends’ places, however, are left completely open without any commitments. Those are the times that I read; those are the times that I work or study. None of this is bad, it is paradoxical, however.

Last week I spent Monday and Tuesday visiting Lexington Theological Seminary in Lexington, KY. Before anyone asks — I reflected a lot while I was at each of the schools and also afterwards. I’m not done, however, and definitely not ready to make a decision, so thoughts on each school will be available on an individual basis after some time. Tuesday night I rented a car and on Wednesday morning I drove down to Nashville, TN to visit Vanderbilt Divinity School. I enjoyed my time with my friends there as well before driving north to Owensboro, KY on Thursday afternoon. That night I stayed with Jeff Bruce and his parents and showed Mike and Angela pictures of Italy while we watched the Olympics after dinner. Friday I saw my maternal grandparents in Lexington (they were at a meeting there — they live in IA) and turned in my rental car and hung out with even more friends in Lexington before flying back to Ft. Worth on Saturday morning. Tomorrow I’m flying to Chicago to check out the University of Chicago Divinity School. We’ll see how it goes.

How is my schedule and life overlapping beyond all of this (i.e. what’s so spastic about this)? My time is regimented and loose, yet I am bound by it. My space is also transitional, and I am bound even worse to it. Today I wanted to work on some of my projects for Dr. Gunn, so I needed two things: an internet connection and a space to sit and work. The former is available throughout TCU (the wireless connection is awesome); the latter was more or a problem — the library was closed for the day. Closed?!? Yes, DFW had an ice storm and, even though the roads were mostly dry by lunchtime (the library opens at noon), the staff apparently couldn’t make it in. So, I spent the rest of the day in the Student Center working in the reading room.

Oh, before I forget, there’s another example of the crazy nature of my current life pace. TCU has a chapter for Phi Beta Kappa, the nation’s oldest honor society for college students. It’s a pretty selective group since the number of people allowed in the entire university is limited to a percentage of how many BA/BS degrees were awarded. For each of the past three years I’d witnessed a couple of Religion students each year be elected into this. The way they’re notified is the faculty members come into the classroom and make some statement about the historical significance of the honor society and then name the student. Well, this morning Dr. Lahutsky decided to do it at church! She stood up in the joys/concerns time and announced that I was elected into it. Talk about fun and yet weird at the same time. At least when she did it she did mention that nothing is normal in my life at the moment and this shouldn’t be an exception.

Two questions have ruled my life for the past two weeks: “why are you here?” (it’s both others and myself asking that) and “how much is it different from Italy?” Both questions are important at times, but they don’t ever get better conversations going; until today …

People asking me “why are you here?” doesn’t bother me as much as I expected. My situation is unique: I’ve graduated and I’m working at TCU before going to graduate school. People are startled after not seeing me for eight months, especially since I shaved my head. What I wasn’t expecting was how often I would ask myself that question. It’s not an atypical question; I ask it at least once a semester and sometimes once a month. Several times a week, however, is starting to push the limit. Juggling my workload (which isn’t hard, just self-demanding), my social life (there are WAY too many old and new friends to catch up with) and my ever-fleeting introspective time that I used to treasure is just plain hard. Why am I here? What is this all leading to? How did I even get here? How am I supposed to enjoy this while living in the moment? The questions go on and on …

My friends ask “How much is it different from Italy?” ALL of the time. They’ll ask it with food, with shopping and with unexpected things like TV. Normally I brush it off and ambiguously say “it’s different, but not so different that it’s a completely separate thing (whatever that means).” For lunch yesterday I experienced something so Italian: I was asked to pay more for less.

TCU’s food-service provider, Sodexho (see rant), is famous for overcharging students at TCU. Well, I should rephrase: the price is rarely the same even though the food options stay sadly constant. The price you pay for food at TCU depends on the operator at the machine and not on the actual food you purchase. I went over to the Deco Deli to pick up a sandwich and saw a special combo meal which came with chips and a 32 oz. drink. I didn’t realize it was the 32 oz. drink included, and assuming it was the standard for TCU, went with the smaller cup for my soft drink. When I got up to pay (luckily there weren’t people in line) the price came to over $2 more than the combo price. Here’s how the dialogue went:

Adam: “Wait, doesn’t the combo include the chips and drink?”
Cashier: “Yes, the combo does, but you don’t have the combo.”
Adam: “Well, how do I get it since these are the things that make up the combo?”
Cashier: “No, you have a 20 oz. drink and not the 32 oz. one. I have to charge you for each individual item now.”
Adam; “Wait, I have to pay more money for getting less?”
Cashier: “Yes, you should have filled with the bigger glass.”
Adam: “What’s to stop me from going over and dumping this into a bigger one? Can I do that?” (even though it’s SO typical for a TCU person to waste two styrofoam cups)
Cashier: “No, I’ve already put it into the machine and you already put the money on the table.”
Adam: “But you haven’t given me change, so it’s not actually finished.”
Cashier: “Well, let me see if I can figure this out.”
[While she worked on the machine I went and filled with a bigger one. When I came back the price was higher than what she’d said before.]
Adam: “How does it cost even more now?”
Cashier: “Because you got a bigger drink.”

I learned and followed the moral of the story today: bring your own leftovers for lunch!

Sometimes the best things are the ones that don’t change. I cringed when I typed that, because for my life, change is great and constantly changing itself (call it a derivative of the derivative). One of the traditions during the last spring semester was a group of friends who did dinner together every Monday night. Either cooking in one of our apartments or planning a night at a great restaurant, we make a point of gathering each week for great food and fun times together.

That semester there were five of us; now two of us have incorporated some others and started it again. Last week I made dinner; I gave it a 4 out of 10 ranking (I just wasn’t on top of things). Next week I’m planning a redemptive effort. This week, however, we made it to the “Old Neighborhood Grill.” On 8th and Park Place in Ft. Worth, this place was crowded but not unbearably so like many chain restaurants. The food was also better than we could have expected. Chicken-fried Steak is amazing; I didn’t know I had missed it until I came back and had it! Fried Okra is also good at this place. The best part of the night, besides nurturing the friendships, was the price of the meal: 6.75 for the main course and two sides. It was more than I could eat too!

After getting back to the house, spending some time with the two cats I’m housesitting (they’re attention-hungry when I get home since the house is empty all day), I read some and planned today.

One of the habits I didn’t like changing when I first got back to the States was not walking as my primary mode of transportation. Florence was great because (besides the art and the people) I could eat a ton of great food and then walk and still not gain weight. Ft. Worth is a city in which one definitely needs a car. The public transportation is inefficient and the distance is too great. Planning last night, however, I started thinking about how far it really was between the Schmidts’ house and Beasley Hall. 2.4 miles. 2.4 miles; that’s it! I clocked it on Sunday afternoon and decided it was definitely doable today. So, waking up 40 minutes earlier, I pulled on my coat and walked to and from work today. Not only is walking in the crisp air refreshing, but that time would have been spent sitting either in front of a computer or books at work or the TV or books at home had I not been walking.

Perhaps the highlight of my morning walk was seeing the friends I have offer to give me rides. One after another, Megan and Jessica both passed me while driving up University and offered me a ride. I know, it’s random to have that many friends see you walking to work, but it’s kind of fun too! Granted, I did pass them up on the offer, but it was their thought and kindness that counts. I now know, though, that for the days when I don’t have a tight schedule, I’m definitely going to walk instead of drive. Call me old-fashioned, but … sometimes not changing is better.