Music theory with Dr. Linton.

I think I'm going to like Mondays.

Music Mondays is what I should call them this semester, I think. All I have the first day of the work week is music theory and choir. Two hours in class. That's it. And one of them is super simple. All I do is sit there and sing. Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

I think the best part of my day was music theory. I have my original theory professor again this semester.

I didn't realize how much I missed Dr. Linton. The minute class commenced was like drawing in a breath of fresh air. A lot of students around MTSU can't stand the man, but I think that's just because they loathe the subject and he doesn't let people slip by.

But he's a treasure trove of information; indeed about music, but also about a million other topics. The basis of the structure of university education is certainly something he advocates, that is studying more than just your chosen field, which is why we get to experience the joys of general education classes. He believes in being a well-rounded, much-learned individual.

And he's funny! In his own quirky, refined professor, music nerd, super smart person kind of way. He even wears suspenders. If I were a man, teaching at a university, I would wear suspenders.

He posted our syllabus online yesterday for us to have this morning. Before I even made it to class today, reading it last night started reminding me why I love this guy. There's a section in it that I think gives a good glimpse into his personality, and perfectly demonstrates why I think he's so great:

"The Southern Association of Colleges and Schools...is insisting that instructors include in the syllabi "learning outcomes," and that these "outcomes" must be "measurable." Such a notion displays a profound ignorance of what it means to be an educated human being in love with learning and, at best, should be greeted with patronizing amusement. I wonder how the members of the SACS would suggest Socrates, or Zoroaster, or Moses, or Augustine, or Abelard, or Peter Drucker might calculate the love of learning exemplified by their students? Socrates to Plato: 'This afternoon I score you at a 73.4% knowledge on the meaning of life, rather better than yesterday when you only got a 68.4, but do try to do a little better so that you can score at least a 82%, no grad school will accept you with a score lower than that.'"

Once he explains the method of grading that he has been forced to institute he ends the section with this, in bold print:

"But the purpose of this course is to teach students (student, from the Latin "studeo", "to be eager for") about great music so that they might develop a deep and abiding love of it, and for that there is no test but living itself."

Here, here.

It also didn't hurt that we spent the greater portion of today's class watching portions of My Fair Lady. There are worse ways to spend class time.

Fall 2010

I get to go to school tomorrow!

I've been plastering that phrase all over the Internet and thought it was worth repeating here.

Can you tell I'm excited? I'm afraid my exclamation point might be a little too subtle. Please know that I am burgeoning with glee.

Not only am I excited because I'm a nerd who gets a thrill at the idea of buying textbooks, but I'm also particularly pleased (thus far) with the classes I'm set to be taking. Here's a rundown of my 16 hours this fall:

Concert Chorale - Not much to be said here. The choir I've been in every semester of my college career. But I enjoy it oh so much, and I'm delighted to participate yet again. It wouldn't feel like a normal semester at MTSU without it.

History of Popular Music in America - I was just looking at the schedule for this class and, if I was paying attention closely enough and not entirely absorbed in what I was reading, I'm pretty sure I was smiling the whole time. There's a list of songs I have to listen to before almost every class of varying styles throughout the semester. Force me to listen to music? What torture!

Introduction to Linguistics - The catalog entry for this class reads, "Anatomy of sound production, levels of structure in language: phonological (sound), morphological (meaningful segments), syntactic (interrelation of words in a sentence). Various meanings of language." Fascinating. No, really, I do think that's fascinating.

The Bible as Literature - I'm not entirely sure what to expect out of this one. But I'm intrigued. I can see how harm could potentially come from it; the point is to study it as words put together to communicate a point like all other literature in the world, not as the living, breathing Word of God unlike all other literature in the world. But I think I'm sufficiently grounded in the truth of what I know the Bible to be, so even if it's stripped down to just pretty words, or a repository of historical information, I know that those pretty words and historical records have much more substance, and hopefully my understanding of that substance will be enhanced.

Themes in Literature and Culture: Tolkien and Rowling - That's right, a class in which I have to read The Lord of the Rings and the Harry Potter series. I just reread Harry's adventure over the summer, and I'm already chomping at the bit to do it again. And it's been ages since I've dived into Middle Earth, so a visit is overdue. My biggest concern is the volume of the material. Just for this one class, that's roughly the equivalent of 10 novels and what I am estimating to be at least 3,000 pages. Don't quote me on that, though. I'll have to count and see. But I'm a fast reader, right? And yes, I've heard Dr. Sherman is hard, but right now I'm so enchanted by the subject matter that not even hard-to-please professors are intimidating. Not much.

Theory and Aural Skills IV - Music theory, that is. My fourth and last semester. Music theory has never been my strongest point, but I've loved every minute of it and I'm giddy at the fact that I've managed to get this far when every semester I have feared failure. Seems my fears were unfounded and I pray that's the case one last time.

As you can see, every class pertains to either my major or minor field of study. That's a first. It's nice to have general education be a thing of the past. Guess what else? I don't have class on Friday! Another first.

I feel like my schedule is charmed this semester. I pray it still manages to retain even the tiniest smidge of its appeal by the time December rolls around.

It all begins in approximately nine hours! Here's to more adventures in hard work and learning!

Tens of thousands of miles and counting.

From the age of 15 to 17, a time in my life where I was the most isolated I have been thus far and commonly would not walk out of my abode for a week at a time (not even to get the mail), if someone would have described a typical month in the world of Emily Lynn just a few years later, my eyebrows would have raised in surprise and I would have eagerly anticipated the day when I could have a change of pace, while simultaneously have felt skeptical that such would be the case.

A short while ago, I was thinking about the nearly 8 months of this year that have already passed. I start school Monday and the ending of a season coupled with a new beginning often makes one stop and take a moment to be introspective; I'm given over to introspection even without these things, so it was bound to happen. One of the many topics that flitted through my mind was travel. I have scheduled many trips for the remaining months of the year, and my summer has been largely defined by what seems to be my new favorite pastime. I soon came to realize, though, that it has not only been my summer that was responsible for a multitude of miles put on my car, but the whole of 2010; there has not been a month this year which I have spent in only one state. Most often my time each month has been divided by just two states, but there have been instances of more.

I can't say this for certain, but I'm almost positive that never before has that happened. I'm no stranger to long car trips, but whoa. I remember feeling when I was little that I had made the trip between Conway, Arkansas and Nashville, Tennessee so many times that I could get someone there in my sleep even though I had never driven, but still, we didn't pack up and the car and go that often. I don't think.

If plans come to be as I expect them to, then I will be spending the rest of the months this year in at least two states as well. As many as three or four in some instances. It's almost like being on tour. Not really, but I'm getting there.

Along with the crossing of much distance, my general busyness has increased even while I'm in town, even at home, to the point that I find the need to schedule things that I never thought I would have to consciously make time for. As I approach my senior year, I'm hoping this isn't a problem. I cringe at the thought of reaching my final two semesters and making terrible grades just because I can't juggle it all.

However my academic life pans out, I'm certain of one thing: I've become accustomed to my relatively fast-paced life and it's hard to imagine going back to the way things have been in the past. I'm pretty sure I don't want to. Finding a job to support this lifestyle would be ideal.

Harry James Potter knows what's up.

I am in the middle of my annual reread of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series.

It's taken me much longer to get through than I anticipated. I've been far busier this summer than I imagined I would be. And with less than three weeks left until school starts, I looked at where I was in the story (in the middle of the fourth book, with three of the biggest books I have ever read to go after it) and decided to make this a reading day, determined to finish book four before the day was over.

This is the way I like to read, completely immersed in the story. When I just make my way through a chapter at a time (sometimes even less than a chapter) and go away for a while, then everything seems choppy. Story is supposed to be representative of life, and life doesn't usually happen like that. One is always living, always surrounded by the happenings around them, whatever they may be. So to fully experience a story, I feel the need to surround myself with it.

In doing so on this day, I noticed again something about our protagonist that I've picked up on in the past: Harry, even in his youth, knows what's important and isn't easily distracted from it.

In the fourth book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry is one of four champions competing for the Triwizard Cup in the Triwizard Tournament. But that's not really what Harry's doing. Yes, there are three monumental tasks that he faces along with the other three champions, and he does his best in each one of them, and he ultimately does end up winning, but throughout the whole ordeal, that's never his focus. He knows that he shouldn't even be in the tournament, and is aware that something sinister is behind his being there. Instead of being distracted by what he could gain - more fame, power, popularity, wealth - he stays focused on that which he is always focused: fighting evil and staying alive (although even that latter goal is eventually forfeited in favor of the former). He realizes that the tournament has no real eternal value, nor does the gleaming trophy or bag of gold that he gains in the end.

I've felt much the same way about my schooling. I am preparing for my senior year in college. While I began with the intent to graduate at some point, I have felt these years that getting a degree, sitting through classes, doing my homework, really hasn't been the point. Am I going to get a degree? Yes. Do I make it a point to go to class, even when there are tempting alternatives? Yes. Do I do my homework, even when it means going all night without sleep and saying "good-bye" to fun as it passes in front of my face? Yes. So what is the point?

I'm not sure exactly. I do know that I have learned things that I might not have learned in any other setting. I have gained experiences that I certainly could not have gained in any other setting. I also take seriously my call to be a light in darkness, and there is a lot of darkness on the campus of MTSU. And while I've never stood on the corner handing out pamphlets, invited everyone I see to come to church, or gotten into any deep theological discussions, I do hope...believe...that my simple presence has brought the presence of Christ.

As they say, time will tell what my whole college experience has been about. I never have really been the career driven type, and I am less so now than I have ever been, so I'm rather sure it hasn't been about that. Which seems really counterintuitive. But I've learned to just run with it.

Something else I do know, like Harry's story has inspired me, I hope mine will inspire at least one other person. And I'm actually real, so shouldn't I be that much more inspiring?

One other thing that I think I know, Jo Rowling and I would get along well. She knows what's up, that woman.

It's electrifyin'!

This evening, I had one of the most shocking experiences of my life.

I brushed my finger against an exposed outlet. The outlet where our oven is supposed to plug in. In a split-second my arm started to feel like jelly and I knew something was amiss.

This wasn't my first intimate encounter with electricity, but I think it may have been one of the worst.

The funny (?) thing is that most jolts I've gotten have been from exposed outlets. I also received a shock from a baseboard heater one time. And I know there have been others, but apparently there have been too many for me to keep track of them all.

You'd think I would learn. Especially around exposed outlets. But it hasn't seemed to sink in yet.

Why is that?

I know how bad it makes it feel. Especially when I grab onto something, not just brush against it, and more volts are given access to my body as a result of an exposure of greater surface area and a prolonged touch. I know how dangerous it can be. I also know that I'm prone to accidents.

But I have an independent spirit. I like to do things on my own. And I tell myself all the time that I'll be careful. I know what I'm dealing with. Nothing bad will happen.

And now it's happened enough that I can't remember each occurrence. Right.

On the bright side, no permanent damage has ever been done. That I know of.

So why not quit while I'm ahead? Learn to back away from an unplated light switch even when I haven't gotten all of the wallpaper scraped off of the wall and there's a particularly stubborn piece that doesn't seem to want to come out of the hole?

I seem to do this in other areas. Like staying up late the night before I know I have to get up early. When I have a big test the next day and know I need to focus. When I'm going to be traveling for hours on end and need to be alert and focused while I'm driving.

Is it pride, maybe? A need to prove that I can do something just because? Because like I said, I've been electrocuted many times and it never has been serious. And I've stayed up late before many tests and have still managed to do well, and have yet to have any sort of accident out on the road, even after a mostly sleepless night. (Although, I'm sure I've come close.)

Whatever it is, it seems to pervade much of my life. Introspective as I am, it intrigues me. Makes me wonder if I should be concerned, because I see a potential danger. But I hope the consequences aren't ever serious. Though, if they were, maybe it would get my attention.

Don't get comfortable.

My life is pretty great.

At least that's how I feel most days.

But I haven't always felt that way.

If you're looking for stories of sadness, I have some. Personal betrayal? I'm familiar with that too. Confusion, insecurity, heartache, insignificance, none of these are completely foreign.

But by the grace of God, none of those things overshadow my current state of existence.

There are plenty of people, however, who do feel consumed by those things. I hear their stories all the time, colored by varying shades of darkness and depression.

It can be easy for me, in the middle of my good feelings about my great life, to hear those stories and not have quite the right empathy for how serious they are. Then, as soon as they're removed from my immediate attention, they can easily fade from my mind, and even though I do care about the people behind those stories who are suffering, I forget about them. Until their plight is brought back to my attention.

At which point I ask myself, "Have you really forgotten what it's like? When you were in that person's position you would have appreciated someone caring about you. And since you've experienced it, you're in the perfect position to relate to them in a way that not everyone can."

Please, Lord, don't let me get so comfortable in the good that surrounds me that I forget to care about others.

As I say that, I realize how dangerous a request that is for my happy life. But I'm not called to happiness. I'm called to Christ and bringing him glory. My life is not my own.