Sabbatical in Retrospect

So... I had really planned on my first big post upon having an internet connection again being about all the GOOD stuff of being away: how refreshed I feel, how great it is not to be addicted to the computer, how my leg is better, how much writing I did, how my vocation is definitely back, and a number of other things...

Instead, I am writing about the bad stuff that happened about three hours before I got home.

Those of you who were reading any of this last year will remember that I wrote about a game called Bunnock, and that my family goes every year, on the first weekend of August, to the town of Macklin, Saskatchewan, to compete in a huge tournament of the same. For the fifteenth consecutive year, we did so, and my last day of work at the Archives was timed so that I would arrive there Thursday night, my family having already shown up.

Well, it was a great weekend, all told. It was probably my poorest year ever, in terms of wins/losses, but my level of play was about the same as last year, which isn't bad given that I played only two games this summer, and those on crutches. For the first time, all of my siblings were playing on one team or another, and I was impressed at how well they were playing--though it seemed that we were all about the same for lack of luck in winning games.

Anyway, we had a great weekend, and yesterday we all headed back to Olds. Well, that's about a 4.5 to 5 hour drive, depending, and we were on the second leg of the trip, and I was ahead of the others on Highway 21, just south of Delburne. At one of the intersections crossing the highway, as I was coming near, some brainless front-end-loader tractor driver with a bucket full of boulders decided to cross, forcing me to slow down unexpectedly. Now, this in itself would have been only a minor irritation, had not one of his boulders bounced out and landed right in my path. I suppose, in hindsight, if I had been thinking and knowing what it was, I would have swerved immediately, but for all the multiple reasons that were on my mind at the time, such as irritation at the tractor, concern for the vehicle behind me, and thinking it was just a garbage bag or something... well, I cruised right over it and blew my transmission.

This effectively ruined my day.

I coasted to the side of the road, and waited fifteen minutes for my parents, who were behind me and had stopped for gas, to catch up, and then proceeded to drag out the remaining hour and a half of the trip home into about three hours, while we found a towtruck (not easy on a holiday Monday) to pull my poor abused car home.

If I was not in a mood to do more than passively check the news online yesterday, I think depression can be considered a contributing factor.

Mind you, I should be depressed today, but I had a very long sleep, and I'm not on the road in the blistering August sun trying to get home after an exhausting weekend. Besides... there's pretty much nothing that can happen now to make things worse. Dad phoned this morning with the news that I'm looking at around $2500.00 to replace the transmission. This is very nearly what I have in my bank account right now, and even if I had the leg or the energy to work until it's time to go back to seminary, that's only about two and a half weeks of work...

So I'm very, very depressed at the moment, in terms of money, but I'm also kind of just at the point where I don't care anymore. I haven't got the faintest clue how I'm going to pay for anything, starting about right now... but I'm a little bit beyond caring. It's so much easier to worry when you have $2500.00 with which to pay $6000.00 of expenses than when you have $0.00 and the same expenses.

Mom wants me to work, I think, and Dad is probably thinking about the money too... but I need a break. I went straight from school into breaking my leg into work this summer. I haven't had a rest since Christmas (Reading Break so does not count...). I need my two and a half weeks of doing nothing.

Meanwhile, I am so broke....

Alms, anyone?

Memo

I am back from my month-long, internet-free, telephone-light, computer-free, friend-free, family-free sabbatical.

I am so tired of people, after spending a weekend around them, following a month without, that I can't even work up the stamina for a post--though I've spent the better part of a month wondering over it.

I'm also really ticked off about my car... but that's another story for later.

Just announcing that I'm not dead yet.

Credo in Deum

"I believe in God".

Just a quick post, while I'm home for the long weekend (Canada Day, July 1st is a statutory holiday), amid a whirlwind visit involving a cousin's wedding, a big good-bye at the church, and all the stuff going on in catching up with a big, busy family.

Life is good. My job is great, my leg is getting better (less than two weeks of crutches to go), and the living arrangement at the rectory is awesome.

From now until August there will likely be little or no time online by Yours Truly, since he will not be home in that time, and I've not found any internet "accomodations" in Edmonton. Furthermore, I'm actually quite enjoying the enforced sabbatical from time online. True, I miss having the opportunity to keep up with people and their lives, but it's really nice to to spend hours a day staring at a screen, wasting time that could be spent on far more profitable pursuits. I've been writing, and reading, more since I moved, and I feel like life is good.

Now--why the statement heading this post? Basically, because of Davem's recent post on LJ.

I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of Heaven and Earth.

I believe in JESUS Christ, His only son, our Lord. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried. He descended to the Dead, and on the third day He rose again. He ascended into Heaven, and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy, catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting.

I furthermore believe in the apostolic succession of the bishops, the authority of the Pope the Vicar of Christ, and the teaching of the Magisterium. I believe in the reality of Christ's presence in the Eucharist: body and blood, soul and divinity. I believe in the sanctity of marriage, in its exclusivity to the relationship of one man and one woman for life. I believe in the sanctity of human life, in all its stages.

I believe that with the conviction of the faith given me by my parents and grandparents as a child, the faith imparted by the reason of philosophers great and small, the faith nurtured by experiences I can only call touching the Divine, and by the example and faith of dozens or hundreds of those I have seen.

This faith is not a childish fantasy. Nor am I an ignoramus led into delusion. I am proud to be "the Catholic one" in my online communties, and I confess that I am a sinner--a proud, lazy, guilty man who is saved but by the Grace of God who accepts what little good I can do as good enough for Him. I am an imperfect human, an imperfect Christian.

I am not a homicidal maniac.

I am not a bigoted redneck.

And I am better than I would be if I had no faith.

If you don't like me, you'd best leave me alone, because I'm going to change.

Memo to the World:

I am not dead.

I am just not online.

I have moved out of the seminary, and am currently living at a rectory with a bunch of priests.

I have no computer, and consequently no internet.

I am supposed to be at work right now.

Still on crutches.

More on the weekend.

Maybe.

100 Posts in Review

Well, my original plan had been to do my 100 post memorial on the 100th post proper... but I also wanted to write about a GOOD weekend for a change... so I decided to look at 100 posts in review. It is also close to the one-year mark since I registered "Formendacil" at Blogspot, so one could also call this a "year in review" sort of a post.

Quite frankly, I doubt I'd've made it to 100 posts were it not for the fact that I broke my leg. That completely turned my summer around, gave me far more free time as well as boredom, and prompted a lot more posting in the past six weeks. And, doing the math, at just under a year, 100 posts means that I've been posting, to average the year, at close to one post every three days.

(Nowadays, if it takes me three days to do a new post, that's a dry spell...)

Looking back, particularly over the past few weeks, I'm not really sure how happy I am with all my posts. Quite a lot of them are ones that, even as I'm hitting "Publish" don't really strike me as well-written, and certainly don't strike me as having any real reason to be written, other than the fact that I wanted to.

Now, since my self-avowed purpose for this blog is as much to entertain myself as it is anything else, that shouldn't be a problem... but it is. I've got a clearcut case of authorial egotism, certainly. I like to have readers, and I like to know what the reader thinks. And then I'll go ahead and write whatever I want anyway... but I still like knowing.

In fact, I have to wonder if I'd be able to write this much if I didn't have an audience. Attempts at journaling in the past, even when mandated by Mom in school, never managed to catch--even though I loved writing and I like being able to read memories at a later date. Something about an audience is necessary, which is true about most writing with me. The reason I write LEGO stories may be that I want them written, but they wouldn't get very far without various younger siblings to read them to eventually. That's also an advantage that RPGing has: even when I don't feel like writing, the fact that there's a waiting audience can be incentive enough to make me compose even when I'm lazy and would rather not. (Now, mind you, this is not as strong an incentive as I'd sometimes like, since I still procrastinate horridly on the 'Downs, but imagine me otherwise...)

Looking at the future, I don't foresee a drop off in blogging anytime soon. Certainly, for the rest of the summer my current rate seems a very likely possibility, and though I'm sure I'll slow down for the fall, a pace akin to last semester seems probable. Certainly, I don't foresee this blog dying any time in the next six years or so...

But in about six years or so I'll be ordained a deacon (assuming that God continues pushing me in that direction), and a year later a priest.

What then?

I'm not sure why I'm concerned about this... but I'm not sure how much I'll write, here or anywhere online, about what's really going on in my head. I already have this mental block about lots of people I know in real life (well, other seminarians anyway...) reading these posts--hence why there is no cross-posting to Facebook, as well as no linking there. And while this may just be an odd idiosyncrasy at the moment (the only thing I've really written that I should maybe have kept to myself has been a rant on a situation on the Barrow-downs, and Barrow-downers are the majority of the people who know this site), but when I'm a priest there will be good reason to consider NOT publishing my opinions in a public venue.

After all, when I'm a priest the majority of my posts will deal with my day-to-day life, the life of my parish. When someone seems a bit funny to me, or there's something that makes me rant a little, or I have a disagreement that ruins my week, the odds are high that it will involve my parishioners somehow. Quite frankly, I don't think I'd be able to vent here, knowing that a Google search (or whatever people are using in 2020 to search) for "Michael A. Joosten" will turn up this site (this and the Barrow-downs and Classic-Castle... and I haven't actually done a search lately, so I don't know what else... but just me, basically).

Mind you, that is quite a few years into the future, but I am nothing if not a worrier in advance.

The Weekend

For the first time in about four weeks or so, I had a weekend that I didn't approach dreading, and which I can actually say I enjoyed. Or, in other words, for the first time in four weeks I wasn't bored stiff all weekend. It really does help to plan ahead. Half the problem on past weekends was that by the time I thought about the fact that I was going to be bored silly... it was sometime Saturday morning, and I was drifting into extreme lethargy--that point of being so bored and cranky that you won't do anything but moan about it.

This weekend, however, I planned ahead Friday afternoon and booked myself for a couple considerable chunks of the weekend.

Saturday morning I got up nice and late, late enough that I really just had time to get myself running before it was off to my uncle's for the afternoon. I didn't actually do much there during the afternoon... I read the newspaper, had lunch, chatted a bit with my uncle, and played with my five-year-old cousin, and was then back at the seminary just before supper.

Supper was followed by two episodes of the Simpsons, since it was far too early to retire to my room and sit at the Internet, and that meant I was on site when everyone turned up to watch the Senators game. It was a good game, with the Senators winning 5-3, and fortunately not getting kicked out of the Stanley Cup finals... but they've got a way to go yet.

Anyway, this meant it was nearly 10:00 before I was back in my room, which meant I didn't spend all evening on the internet, but rather, I had a good time hobnobbing with my fellow seminarians.

Today I got up at 9:30, which gave me just enough time to get going and have brunch before taking off to 11:00 Mass, and with the inclusion of baptisms and First Communions at Mass, I was back at seminary just in time to take off again at 12:30, to spend the afternoon doing not much of anything at Sierra's. And by "not much of anything" I mean a fair bit of talking, ingesting cold beverages/ice cream/dandelion leaves, and sunburning my right forearm (it is a well-toasted red on the top, and a paisley white on the underside).

Then it was back to the seminary just in time for supper, to be eaten in the TV room watching Stargate Atlantis. And then back here for an evening of internetting... and maybe--maybe!--some writing. That has been my one failure this weekend, to in any way get myself to do some writing. Ah well... at least I can look back on this weekend at not shudder at the memory of "pleading to Heaven for relief" boredom.

Actually, it's kind of funny that such is the case, since I really didn't do anything either this afternoon or yesterday afternoon. In both cases, I pretty much just sat around and did nothing. It's amazing what a difference a change in scenery and company makes.

"Lay Ecclesial Ministry"

Today, instead of working, I attended a workshop (erm... I think that's what it was...) for "Lay Ecclesial Ministers", which apparently is becoming the preferred term for a broad range of people who serve the church while not being ordained or having taken vows. Specifically, this was for those who are employed by the Church as such, and thus was a collection of various Pastoral Associates, Secretaries, Youth Ministers... and whatnot.

I, although technically a layman, was not really there because I fit the above description. I was there because my boss, as Archivist, was attending on and off in order to educate these parish workers as to the care and preservation of various old churchy artefacts, as well as taking in the talks. I was encouraged to do the same if I wanted, and I did. I originally only intended to be there for the first bit, prayer with the Archbishop and the first talk. I ended staying all day, mainly because it was more interesting than work, and less work.

The talks focused, basically, on the identity and the vocation of being a lay ecclesial minister, as opposed to just employees, on the spiritual side of serving the church as an employee, and not just the functional side.

In an educational sense, it was good for me I suppose insofar as it makes me aware of a facet of what my life will be like as a priest, since these are the sorts of people, if not the very people, I'll be working with most of my life, and it highlighted some of the ways to make that as smooth a relationship as possible.

It felt weird being there, though, considering that I'm a seminarian. It's not that I felt unwelcome, but I definitely had a sense of being apart. It's natural, I suppose, since it was for the people who work and collaborate with priests--but who are NOT priests or religious. Whereas I, on the other hand, am aiming at being one of said priests.

I don't know... it was a bit odd. Good, certainly, but odd.

One exercise they put us through, that I think my table at least got a lot out of, was pinpointing what our gifts are. Gifts, in this case, being defined as things that we naturally ARE, things that don't take any effort, but just come naturally, as opposed to Talents, things that we can learn or develop. (While there is some overlap, an example here would be the difference between being musical and being able to play the piano. The first is a gift, which comes with who someone is. The second is a talent, developed over time.)

It was very interesting, sitting there with a table of people I'd never met before that morning, being able to pick out some of the gifts these people have, right away. It's amazing how some things are immediately apparent. With me, I was told that I give the immediate impression of honesty. Most of the table agreed that I gave the impression of "he'd be a good seminarian" before they met me and learned I'd be a priest. One said that I had a nice smile (perhaps the comment I found most surprising). I guess I'm also really good at reading people....

I think the whole table was flattered at the gifts picked out for them; I know I was with mine. Within the wider context of why we were figuring these things out, it came down to trying to figure out if our jobs are ones in which our gifts, and not just our trained talents, are being utilised--because those are the jobs where you'd be happiest.

Well, thinking over my own gifts, I came up with this list (which is neither necessarily comprehensive, or necessarily accurate): I'm mature, I love knowledge, I love being around people, I'm not a polarising character (people may not care for me, but I don't think I inspire hatred or strong dislike). According to Fr. Marco, I'm a leader. I'm not entirely sure, but I have reason to think that I'm easy to confide in. I know I'm good at keeping things to myself. I was told I'm good at reading people.

Are those gifts that I could exercise as a priest? I think so. Is that a good sign? Definitely.

I'm really inclined to think that, in the cosmic scheme of things, the reason for me to have attended the whole thing today was to reaffirm my vocation. Really, it boosted my spirits like you can't imagine being told I seem like a perfect fit for a seminarian, and that I'll be a good priest.

Still, the Hobbler

Well, the trip to the doctor yesterday was rather disappointing. I am most certainly not in a walking cast right now. Nor am I slated to be so any time in the near future. In fact, it looks like I still have at least another three weeks of crutches--cause that's when I see the doctor again.

To be honest, I was quite bummed out. My doctor may be a great surgeon, but his bedside manner is a little lacking, and I went away feeling worse than when I showed up. In retrospect, I guess I shouldn't complain, since my Xrays showed that I'm healing in normal manner, and the doctor wasn't concerned with anything, and I've now got official permission to put "a featherweight" on my foot.

Still... I really, really wanted to be off the crutches. For one thing, the muscles in my left hand were cramping up on Monday night, making it really painful to hobble along, as well as more technically difficult. And although that's gone now, it's just another reminder of how much I wanted to be rid of those things.

However, having gotten over the annoyance, I'm back to what passes for normal, and since nothing in my life has changed... there's really nothing to report about it. Well, I did go shopping today. I had to for some necessities, like deodorant, that it's dangerous to be caught with. It has also been glorious having food that I don't have to trundle to the cafeteria for.

It was a somewhat annoying procedure, though, bringing a plastic bag in my pocked, and having it dangle off the side of my crutch where it was wrapped around my hand, swinging backwards and forwards, and wrapping around the crutch, being generally annoying and throwing my balance off. It also won't work with anything big, so here's hoping I don't need to go out and buy a desk or something...

And... that's my life.

On an unrelated note, an interesting fact about myself revealed itself to me today in the great thinking chamber that is "commercial breaks". Basically, I realised that I have almost opposite email/telephone habits. With the former, the emails I'm most tardy to write/reply to is anything official. I put off writing the city about rerouting my ambulance billing for a week.On the other hand, most emails personal tend to get replied to or written post-haste.

Telephones, on the other hand, are objects I am loathe to dial. It's not that I mind talking, but I hate dialling, for some reason. I guess it's my allotted phobia. Anyway, if it's something that I have to do, like phone back the registrar's office, or call the garage about booking my car it, I can do it--and I'll do it fast just to get it out of the way. But if it comes to anything personal... I'm generally a putter-offer, even in replying.

Anyway, I suppose there's nothing groundbreaking about that... but it amused me to note at the time.

Happy Pentecost!

Today is Pentecost, considered the "birthday" of the Church, the day that the Holy Spirit descended on the Apostles in the first "Confirmation". It's the third most important feast of the Catholic Church, after Easter and Christmas.

It's also a rather boring day here in Michael's life.

The weekend being almost over, I think I can safely state that I did not fall back into the patterns of near-despair that bothered my weekend last week, and that the sense of purpose and optimism that came back into my life with work last week seems to have lasted the weekend.

Still, though, not much actually happened in the past couple days. I spent (and am spending) way too much time online. I've had the same upset stomach three nights in a row now, and this comes after having had the same lasagna each time. I think there may be a connection, since I didn't feel bad before supper. I did feel weak, but that probably had more to do with the fact that it was the first meal I'd had all day.

Anyway, I've watched Stargate: Atlantis, and was thoroughly amused about it being named after me. (The episode was entitled "Michael".) However, an hour long TV episode only lasts so long--namely an hour--and I've got some time yet before bedtime, and about as much to do before then as I've had to do all weekend: not much.

June should be a lot better in this respect. I'm going home at least three weekends out of five, and I'm hopefully going to be off my crutches. The big day to find out about that is Tuesday. I'm really, really hoping I get into a walking cast. For one thing, my left leg is noticeably thinner than my right leg, due to atrophy, and this is starting to scare me. Actually, I'm just starting to get scared in general. Not rationally, and not really all that much... but as the date to see the doctor draws near, and my hopes soar upwards with regards to getting off the crutches, I'm plagued with silly ghost-like fears.

They're the same kind of nervous twitchings I get when going somewhere I've never been before, and I'm not really sure I've got the right time or address. At least, they have the same effect on my stomach. However, instead of being fluttery over the thought of showing up on the wrong doorstep or embarassingly early, this is a fluttery fear that when I accidentally bumped my leg on floor at the theatre, I set myself back. Or that that funny tingling when I'm hobbling along is my leg dangling re-broken, and not just denim hanging on my leg where I'm not used to it (last week was the first time I wore jeans since I broke my leg).

I really, really hope I get off the crutches. Not that the crutches are that bad... except first thing in the morning when my wrists really don't want to do it, or in the late afternoon if I have been moving all day, and under my arms is getting rubbed raw. No, what I really look forward to is being able to carry things.

I fully intend--and need--to celebrate by going shopping. Now, that sounds terribly feminine and ridiculous, but I assure you that there is a bit of necessity underneath. For one thing, I need food. I really do need more than the provided leftovers/frozen food left for us on the weekends, especially if the lasagna really is giving me indigestion. Furthermore, some variety in what I'm packing for lunch, and not having to go up and down to the cafeteria when I'm having to eat a bedtime snack would be good.

There's also LEGO to think of. I'm quite sure that the new Space and Castle sets, if not out quite yet, should be very, very soon. I just haven't checked because what's the point? Even if they are, I don't plan to haul them around on my crutches.

And then there's all the odds and ends that are piling up... My good pen has got to be on the verge of dry, and I've gotten spoiled in using the same kind. My shampoo won't last much more than another week. My toothpaste is likewise getting low, as is soap.

Finally, there's laundry. Now, this does not involve shopping, but it is sort of being put off for the same reason. Being about to properly carry a laundry basket, and not have to deal with the whole mess of shoving a load of laundry in my backpack, and hobble to the laundry room with that is a major incentive to want my arms back.

Because I don't feel like I lost my leg--I feel like I lost my arms.

I don't know that having my arms back will actually make my life any more interesting, but I really, really, really want to have them back.

I am, however, scared that they'll put me on physiotherapy. Now, that's not a bad thing in itself, but when are they going to do it other than office hours--when I'm working? I feel bad enough having to take time off for all those finals and the checkup, and any ordinations I'll attend.... I don't there's going to be a week I'm not taking at least a couple hours off for something or other. Blame it on my scrupulous honesty... but I'm uncomfortable with it.

Well, I'll find out on Tuesday. I'm sure there will be a full report here.

Dreams

First off, before we get to the dreams, allow me to say that I really hope that I'm just suffering some disagreement with the lasagna, and am not coming down with a cold or flu or something, because that would really be unfair. Crutches AND bad stomach? Blegh! But I digress...

Last night I had the first dream I've remembered substantially in a long time. I wish I could remember how it went better, because towards the end, while I was in that state of semi-sleep when you know you're dreaming but want it to keep going, I was enjoying it immensely.

Basically, it played as a mixture of Middle-Earth and Stargate. I was one of the chief protagonists, a Middle-Earthian of some sort, and also present was my "sister" (not my sister in real life), Éowyn, who had dark hair, as well as LMP (a Barrow-Downer... except he had this fixation for monkeys stolen from someone I know on Classic-Castle), and at least one other person I've forgotten.

Naturally, the dream started out taking place in a space-distorted version of my parent's house in Olds, though apparently this was somewhere either in Rohan or Gondor. One might conclude that, because I was possibly in Rohan, and my sister was "Éowyn", that I would have been Éomer, but no. If anything, I think I was called Faramir.

Anyway, the bad guys in the story were Valar of which I had never heard of. There were at least two of them, a guy whose name started with an "S", who had apparently been a sort of failed proto-Melkor in the beginning, and his evil girlfriend, who I never figured out. Basically, they had the Sauronic trait of trying to get people to worship Morgoth. This is where things started getting Stargate-ish, though, because they were definitely reminiscent of the Goa'uld in this attempted worshipping thing... and because they seemed to be trying to use "Éowyn" as a host for a third evil Valar, who I can only assume was disembodied somewhat like Sauron after the destruction of the Ring. Apparently, she was the girlfriend's kid sister or something, because even when she had sort of taken over "Éowyn", she was still kind of being bossed around by the older lady.

The earlier part of the dream, that I remember, was pre-Éowyn being taken over, and involved us three (her, me, and LMP) fighting the evil Valar, in what I think was some sort of magic and martial arts combo. Certainly, I don't think any conventional weapons, either from Middle-Earth or Stargate were used.

At some point, Éowyn became infected by the evil Valar, and I think she got captured during an attack (in my parents' kitchen, incidentally) that didn't go so well. I remember it being lucky that Elempi was still alive, since he was this little guy with a funny hat who had no "power/magic". I assume this means that I did. I'm quite certain that Éowyn did, though not enough to keep her from being taken over, though that may have been the reason FOR the takeover.

Anyway, once Éowyn has been taken over and removed, the dream started playing like a movie, and I was longer physically present as I followed the action. Apparently, the evil Valar had taken Éowyn to Venice, which looked very sea-frontish, and certainly urban, but not particularly European. More on the lines of California. Anyway, apparently the meld wasn't going so well for both Éowyn and the evil Valar in her, since the Valar was losing control over Éowyn's mind (though Éowyn was pretending to be the evil Valar), but Éowyn was weakening, and starting to die.

While we were still focused on the bad guys and their Venetian waterfront veranda, the proto-Melkor (who I think might have been renamed Sokar at this point) was accosted by the evil Valar older sister, who started to make out with him. They were down to their underwear when I, the viewer, broke the Fourth Wall, and reminded them that this story was only rated PG-13. At this point they went inside, so that I didn't see them anymore, and the story shifted.

I briefly returned to the tale of myself and LMP, and our vague third companion, and we were heading to Venice to rescue Éowyn, but before we got there the Evil Valar had moved again.

In pursuing them, we went on to another waterfront city, somewhat to the west. It may have been Genoa, though I don't think it was named. It was west of the Morthond delta on the Langstrand coastline, anyway.

In this city was a GORGEOUS old cathedral. It wasn't being used as a church anymore, and was quite barren looking. But it was gorgeous, I assure you, all made of red brick. There was no glass in the windows, and no furniture of any sort, and apparently it was the base and warehouse of some sort of Stargate-ish crime lord who was somehow connected with the Evil Valar.

Before I and my companions showed up, our allies arrived from Rohan. I'm guessing we summoned them in the interlude when the story was in Venice. Anyway, these guys may have been named Rohirrim, but they were somewhere between Vikings and SG-01 in terms of how they operated. Just before we showed up, they attacked the cathedral in their longboat, and captured the crime lord, saving him from the gunfire of the Evil Valar or their servants, who apparently wanted him dead.

As this was ending, my bunch showed up, and there was this awesome panning out of the camera to get a good look at the cathedral....

...and that was it. I was quite disappointed.

However, as I was laying there in bed a bit later, having nothing better to do on a Saturday morning, and having committed as much of my dream to memory as possible, I started to daydream about my ordinations. For some reason, I mostly concentrated on the first, and rather less important of the two: my ordination to the diaconate.

Although this daydream had none of the drama of the real dream, it was a very good sign from my point of view. It's a sign that my attraction to the priesthood is still full blown. I take as such, since my focus in these daydreams is always on the fact that I am single--the fact that I am happy, excited, and very much aware of what I've given up in order to be ordained. It is, basically, my deepest seated desire.

Done! At last!

I am FINALLY done my winter semester for 2007. It took a full month longer than it was supposed to, ending not on April 25th, but on May 25th. But even at the very last, it just wouldn't go the way it was supposed to.

I was at Concordia a good 20 minutes early, just enough time to sit in Tegler, catch my breath, and do some last minute looking over the notes I put down the night before. Then, just before nine, I hobbled down the ramp to the basement level, looked for Room 101... and didn't find it where I thought it was.

So I checked the map on the walls, and saw that there was a G-101, which was a Biology lab, and a T-101, which was a computer lab. The computer lab made more sense, so I hobbled down the stairs to the lower level of basement, and found that T-101 was locked.

Well, it was 9:00 by now, so I figured that maybe it was in the Bio lab, for some reason, so I hobbled back up the stairs, down the hall, and round the corner. Nope, that was locked too.

It was now five after nine, and I'm starting to worry. I spent the next fifteen minutes or so hobbling back and forth down the corridors, hoping to see my proctor (he also did my History exam, so I knew who I was looking for), but no luck. I also hobbled up two more staircases to double-check with student services that I wasn't mistaken about the room-number--but there was no one there that early.

By the time 9:20 rolled around, and there was no change, I thought that maybe I should check the library, since it might have a Room 101. I was quite certain it wasn't in that building, and I was right, but it was a good thing I went to check, since the clerk was able to inform me that I was scheduled for a test in T-101--at 10:00.

Well, it's about 9:25, and I'm soaked in sweat from all the staircases and long distances covered on crutches with the insulating factor of a full backpack. I thanked the clerk, and returned to T-101, very grumpy and also very relieved that I wasn't 25 minutes late. Not wanting to take any more stairs for some time, I went to the bottom of the staircase I'd just come down, and sat there, facing the other wall of the stairs, my leg elevated on the step just above the one I was sitting on. Sprawled out there with my leg up and looking thoroughly sweaty and exhausted, I'm sure I looked rather hobo-esque. Whatever, I needed a break.

Anyway, just before 10:00, the Student Services coordinator shows up with a guy who has the key to the room. She was the one who set up my exam, and she had apparently just got in to work, and found that my proctor wasn't around. She had the same memory as me, of an exam for 9:00. Anyway, she got me started on the exam, and acted as proctor until about 10:45, which is when I think the real guy arrived.

So I wrote my Logic exam late, but I'm not going to complain, since I'm quite certain I aced the test. I did at least as well as on the midterms, and probably better. It was almost the perfect exam, since everything on the exam corresponded to what I'd refreshed in, and I never had a moment of sitting there going "um... how do I bluff my way through this?" I don't think I got 100%, but mid-90s would be about right. And that'd be really cool, since that might mean that my prof will just take the mark from the final, since he promised that if we did substantially better on the final, he'd ignore the mid-terms and grant a mark based on the final only. And mid-90s is substantially better than mid-80s, right?

Anyway, I'm very pumped about getting the marks back on that one, especially after having seen all my other marks. I aced my English and Religion courses (A+ or a 4.0). History was good too, (an A, or a 3.3). Sociology was disappointing, since I think I didn't do as well on the final as I would have in April (I got a B+, and I'm not sure what in terms of gradepoint). So, if I get a mid-90s final mark for Logic, then that means I get an A+/4.0, which would give me an above-3.5 average for the semester, which together with my 4.0 average last semester, would mean automatic scholarships next year, which is very good given that I'm not going to earn nearly enough this summer to pay for it.

Um... sorry about the bragging (unless you have better marks then me, in which case... whatever, I didn't study or try that hard... so I'm not complaining). But... yeah. Have to let it out somewhere.

Post-Study

Yeah... I've done my studying. All 17 minutes of it. With the ten or so I did last night, and the approximate 15 I'm likely to get in before the exam tomorrow, that'll make for about 40 all told. Wow! That's a lot.

And I've been to Shrek III tonight.

All the above, and it's not 9:00 yet. The key to having such a life is low expectations. My plan for tonight had been to watch TV until 9:00, then study in the time remaining before bedtime. Instead, by forfeiting TV for a real movie-theatre movie, I get ahead of the game, and get to return to my normal routine of interneting before bedtime.

Shrek was enjoyable, as expected. I didn't think it was as good as the last two. I liked the overall story better than #2, but it didn't feel like the story was tightly wound. It felt thinner, and less joke-packed. Like #2, it lacked the serious emotional punch of the first movie, and it wasn't QUITE so over the top, I thought, as #2, but I enjoyed it.

The best part about going to movies like Shrek is that they come just close enough to mythic themes to get my juices flowing, but stop short of actually getting there, due to the comedy, that I can allow my imagination run wild on its own. I got a few buds of story from the movie, improbably prompted by the movie. We'll see if it goes anywhere... most such ideas don't. If nothing else, though, it's added impetus to continue my lunch break writing.

And... this may surprise some... but watching the previews, I found myself getting a bit excited about the Nancy Drew movie due out in a few weeks. Blame it on nostalgia (my family has almost complete sets of the original Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew mysteries, and once I'd read through the former, I polished off the latter), but I think I want to go to that one.

Not too likely, though, as I'm definitely not a fool enough to mention this around the seminary, and I'm not the sort who goes to movies on his own.

Pre-Study

Happy Status Update:

Well, maybe it was just another day at work, but I've been in the same purposeful, more optimistic mood all day. Definitely going to have to see what the weekend brings... since I'm not planning on going anywhere or doing anything. Can Michael survive a weekend of boredom, or is his emotional state tied to his being employed?

I'm not making any predictions... but I know which I'd prefer.

Not that I don't have reasons, if not to be depressed, to be grumpy. I went to Concordia over my lunch break today (it's about five minutes from the Pastoral Centre), and got myself set up for my final final of the "semester that wouldn't end". I have to say, for all that I'm glad to be done school, I do seem to have sentimental feelings towards the building/community, so I guess the school year wasn't that bad. Parking was a royal pain, though, because I was far too cheap to pay for parking for what would only be half an hour's stay, and I'm too law-abiding not to. This meant that I was parked a block away in the one-hour free parking zone, which is closer than I would normally park, but is a long, long way to go on crutches. It was also interesting since I had to parallel park to get as close as I did, and I haven't parallel-parked since I took my driver's test three and a half years ago. Turned out to be a cinch; I was quite pleased.

Anyway, 9:00 Friday morning I will be missing work to write a Logic exam I'd rather not write. Which means that if you see me online tomorrow, be a pain and tell me to get back to studying. I probably won't listen, but I might feel guilty, so you never know... I got my marks back today (via my parents, whereas I didn't get a copy at all...), and there's a big fat "F" on my Logic, since I haven't written the exam yet. I'm hoping it'll prove to be incentive.

Self-Diagnoses

It was an interesting long weekend... I think I regressed majorly in terms of my emotional state. Being at work was a good thing, and I was quite glad to be back today. Sure, my back's a bit sore at the end of the day, and I hate getting up early and trying to rush through getting ready for the day on the crutches, and yes I do leave work at the first possible moment... but I do like having a purpose in life.

This weekend... um... yeah... I went a little bonkers. I did NOTHING. Well, not quite... but I did do an AWFUL lot of internet. Probably too much. I didn't watch much TV, I didn't read, I didn't write. In fact, I did more writing in the leftover ten minutes of my lunchbreak today than I did in m three day weekend.

All of which is very depressing to look back on. Basically, I was in a very glum state this weekend. It's been interesting to self-diagnose, not the least because I'm nowhere near objective. In particular, it's interesting to watch me, as I'm laying in bed, too lazy to get up and having no reason to, complain to God about being lonely.

However, there's something about using the word "lonely" that seems to trigger a reaction of "no, not really lonely, God. I'm more... alone. And bored. Bored and alone".

Well... sitting here after a good day's work, and having a much saner state of mind... I'm having to ask myself, "if that doesn't define lonely, then what does?"

Bored and alone.

Today felt like a veritable party, what with having the senior archivist to chat with about old parishes and record-keepers about once every hour or so, and with having seven guys at supper for a change (most of them were gone over the weekend),. Actually, even enduring almost-rush hour traffic coming back from work felt like a social life.

However, the biggest event of the day was not the aforesaid. It was, as I headed down to breakfast at the grumpy hour of 7:15 am when you're fifteen minutes behind schedule, the revelation that I haven't felt like I'm helping anyone anymore.

This was a "revelation" insofar as it was a facet of my life I hadn't considered, but probably has a strong bearing on my mental state of mind--a mental state of mind, to go off on a tangent, that has been very pro-marriage and pro-family of late. Since breaking my leg, one thing that has been completely lacking in my life is any sense of being a support to anyone else. Sure, there hasn't been a lack of love coming my way (though, as an aside... I could have done with a lot more about Week 2. At that point you're still hurting, but people have sort of decided that "oh, he's mobile and seems back to normal, and forget about you), but I haven't been on the sending end.

This struck me as very much tied to my "vocational crisis". The times, barring sacramental highs, when I'm most in love with the priesthood, is any time that I'm helping people. It could just be sympathetic conversations online, or it might be helping with someone's paper, or it might be something more substantial, but helping people definitely triggers a love of the priesthood.

And in the thirty-one days since I broke my leg... I really don't feel like I've done anything. Even the online conversations, if they haven't been me drawing on the sympathy of someone else, certainly haven't cast me as the sympathetic shoulder. In fact, I've been a whiner... though a sincere one.

The related thought was striking me over the last week or so, that I'm wasting my summer, since my whole goal for it is to get it over with as soon as possible. I've lost the ability to savour. And this was striking me as bad, since life is finite, and we really don't have that much of it. I'm twenty, and assuming I live to be eighty (which may be pushing it...) that means I'm a fourth done my life.

Sure, my leg's broken, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to do more of my writing. Now is the perfect time to do it. I'll want to in a few years, but won't have time. Or spending time with friends and family. It hit me that I'm going about this broken leg business in entirely the wrong way. Instead of loathing it, and simply struggling to get through it as quickly as possible, I ought to be exploiting it, especially now that there's no pain in the leg, and I'm increasingly mobile. Barring having to carry anything, I can do pretty much anything... so why shouldn't I enjoy this glorious summer?

All of this cogitation came to a boil either sometime yesterday or today; all this thought spent on the fact that I'm not feeling "useful" anymore, and the fact that I'm taking entirely the wrong approach to life. I have no idea if it'll make a longterm difference, or if my good mood today is simply work-induced, but a good mood is definitely here, and I'm predicting it'll stay. Nothing catches my attention like the reminder that time is running out.

Eighty years is not enough.

Michael A. Joosten, Assistant Archivist

Can you tell that having a new job is doing me a world of good? Due to the fact that I'm not sitting around doing nothing all day, I'm not blogging near-daily as I was. And this despite the fact that I've probably got more things to write about than before.

First of all, there's all the stuff pertaining to the job. Archival work is clearly right up my alley. Never mind that all I'm doing is resorting the parish records from three places into one, I'm enjoying myself immensely, and gaining a wealth of knowledge about the Archdiocese and its workings and parishes. Indeed, when this job is over, I'll probably be the most knowledgeable seminarian in the diocese with regards to the history of the priests and parishes.

A lot of the stuff is the same, from parish to parish, but occasionally there's something that is just really cool. Most notably so far is the letter written in the sixties the Holy Rosary parish file--the Polish parish--from Karol Cardinal Wojtyla, the later Pope John Paul II, and signed by him. His signature was instantly recognisable as being the same handwriting as his signature, years later, on the papal document hanging on the seminary wall.

Well, I was impressed anyway.

But, I love paper and things to do with paper. I love the different types of paper used over the years, the different typewriters, the different handwritings, the different signatures (I swear, I'll be able to recognise the signatures of our archbishops on sight when this is done). I've always been a paper packrat, which you can blame on instinct well fertilised by Tolkien (the accounts in the HoME of his different drafts and paper-saving tendencies fell on a highly impressionable mind).

I wish my printer was working...

And no, you probably don't want to know why.

Employed!

So, I'm back to being employed--employed with a paycheque, that is. Technically, I suppose I was/am an Archdiocesan employee already, since (as noted on Facebook and elsewhere) I always take the Alberta Blue Cross employee health plan with the Archdiocese as evidence. But I don't get paid for that...

Anyway, I can't say that the Archival job is likely to be particularly thrilling. I don't think I'll hate it--I don't yet-- and I think I'll enjoy learning tonnes about the Archdiocese and its history. I'm also fairly confidant I'll get to like knowing the ins and outs, and the people, of the Pastoral Centre. I like knowing the Who's Who of the Church.

Still... it's not exactly a happening social scene, and the Archives is probably close to being the quietest part of the building. Not that this bothers me on the job... but I really need to plan my evenings/weekends better. Which is already partly taken care of, weekend-wise anyway. I've got nothing this coming weekend--the long weekend, at that--or the weekend following. However, in June I've got at least three weekends taken care of already, between ordinations, grads, and weekings, and I could probably fill up all five without difficulty. July has at least one ordination, and by then I'm really hoping I'll be walking again.

In the immediate future, though (and by "immediate future" I mean "this week"), and during the week in general, I'm staring down the barrel of evenings as quiet as my days. This week may be worse than others, since I'm still in the seminary. Actually, I'm not so much in the seminary as I am in limbo. I'm finally finished exams, so I'm out of academic limbo, and I'm on the job, so I know where that's going, but in terms of residence, I'm in limbo, and with the priests on their retreat in Jasper, I'm not likely to get an answer for probably a week or so.

Things will likely perk up once--if--I know that I'm leaving. If I get sent to a rectory, which is possible, even probable... it'll probably be much the same, though I suspect I'd get more company than I get in Seminary, if only because a priest might be home more often. Alternatively, if I'm getting kicked out, I might end up in somebody's home. When I was home yesterday for Mother's Day, I got a lead on somewhere else I could stay. Guess there's some crazy people out there who feel sorry for laid-up seminarians... or maybe it's just seminarians in general.

In any case, I don't know what's happening. It might be wise for me to find out, but it's pretty much out of my hands. And the less I push, the longer I'll probably stay at the seminary, and I'm really not desirous of being kicked out at the moment--boring as the place is.

Yeah... boring. I was going to go grocery shopping tonight, to provide myself with lunches this week, but I realised that I can scrounge just about anything I was thinking of from the kitchen.

This was majorly depressing.

It was very silly, really, to be so depressed. Having no arms available, I'm still not sure HOW I was going to manage this. I don't think a shopping cart would have worked that well. Regardless, I was still rather crushed about the loss of a potential adventure.

That's the problem, I think. The weather's gorgeous, I've spent my day in very quiet surrounds (well, the fire alarm at Concordia was loud, but that was more irritating than fun--and it was still rather lonely), and I've got the health to do things. Put it all together and you get a Michael who is seriously itching to go out and do things... Not that I have the ability to go on long-range hikes or anything. And even if my leg was healed, and my situation otherwise identical, I'd be more likely to sit here and mope like this rather than go out and find fun.

But I want to... I guess I just don't know how. Or I can't find the right excuse to convince myself.

Retractions

It has come to my attention, over the course of my just-finished hour-long commute back from the Archives, that I have a couple retractions to print regarding recent statements in this blog.

First, and foremost, if you were planning on coming to Edmonton in response to my complaint of boredom next week--don't. Cancel the plane tickets, save your holidays for the summer, and consider yourselves as having my thanks. Oh? You weren't ever able to consider it? Well... just as well.

Turns out, I shouldn't be very bored next week, seeing as I'll be working. I guess my working at the Archdiocesan Archives was a foregone conclusion. And I don't start after the Long Weekend... but on this coming Monday--right after my History exam.

I am unsure what to think of this... On the one hand, it means that I won't likely be bored next week. It means that I'll be done a week earlier than I thought--which I think is a good thing, since that'll mean a bigger break between Archival work and the return to seminary and school in the fall. And the job, though somewhat boring, is right up my alley. The building's air-conditioned, I pretty much don't have to work with the public (not that the Archives HAS a public to work with), and I'm working with both Paper and Catholic paraphernalia. It's like my dream job.

However, let's face it... I'm lazy. As much as I was unsure what on earth I was going to do next week, I was quite sure I'd end up filling it, and I really can't say that I'm looking all that forward to work. Too many bad memories from Panago--though this'll be completely different.

Still, I'm not complaining about having the job, or about the kind of job. That I have a job I can halfways enjoy, and can do on crutches, is miraculous. I just... need to learn not to get preconceptions about dates and times. I hate having those messed with...

The other retraction I need to write is that I obviously didn't spend any part of the afternoon thus far outdoors. The afternoon is far from over, though, so that may yet prove true...

Depressingly Short Exam

I am just back from my Sociology final. The time right now? 10:53 am. The exam started at 10:02. I had to drive back from Concordia. I had to go on crutches from the exam to my car, from my car back to the seminary.

And I still have three minutes to spare of my first hour of the exam. And they allotted two hours, I think.

I wrote the exam in twenty minutes--which means I probably studied for close to twice as much time as I spent writing the exam. This is sad.

Well, it's sad in the sense of "okay... so I'm NOT nearly so busy today as I thought". Instead of finishing the exam, then having lunch at Concordia, lounging around until I took off for the Pastoral Centre and my interview, I looked at my watch and thought "it's not even 10:30, and I don't seem to know anyone around here now that regular classes are done". So I drove back to the seminary, I still have an hour before lunch, and then I'll drive down to the Pastoral Centre.

I think, this afternoon, that I might go look for a park. The weather is drop-dead gorgeous!

Old Habits Die Hard

So...

I SHOULD be studying. I have my Sociology final tomorrow. And seeing as I haven't had a Sociology class in four weeks less a day, it'd probably be a good thing to brush up on it a bit.

Except... I hate studying. I hardly ever study.

This is nothing new.

Instead, I'll ramble about yesterday, which was a markedly better day than today, though today isn't so much bad as it is "empty". Meaning that, give it another week, and there will be nothing to remember of today beyond the TV shows I watched... if even those. The big news today is that the seminary/college lawns are being mowed, and that awesome smell of fresh cut grass is wafting in through the open windows.

Now, it is certainly true that yesterday did not involve anything of great productivity. I slept in until 10:00, and then did nothing about school, work, accommodations, or health. I spent my evening in the normal fashion--watching Stargate and then whatever came on TV. (Seriously, I've watched more TV in the past three weeks than in any three weeks in my life, no contest.) In between waking up and the TV, however, I had one of the most enjoyable days I've had since breaking my leg.

A part of the enjoyment stems from the fact that it wasn't too strenuous. For example, Sunday was an awesome day, going home and being around family, and probably had more heightened emotions than yesterday, but it was draining. It was LONG. Yesterday, on the other hand, involved just enough activity and getting out the regular routine to be a good time, but not so much as to wear me out completely.

What was I doing? Well... not much, really. I met Sierra at Chapters, and soaked in the atmosphere of literature for an hour or so, then we adjourned to my car where she had left stuff three weeks before, when we supposed to be having lunch, but were actually experiencing my broken leg. Following this reunion of owner and goods (and the removal from my car of a three-week old banana), we went for lunch, much as we should have on April 21st, with the main difference being that we actually got there. Otherwise, the particulars were shockingly similar, such as the fact that I started driving without either of us knowing where we were going, which had the repeat effect of ending up in a rather different part of the city than intended.

However, we actually did have lunch. And a little driving around was probably just as well, since it meant that we avoided the Lunch Hour proper, which is more than busy enough. Lunch was a drawn-out affair, with plenty of time taken in the ordering, the eating, and then the drinking after the eating (non-alcoholic beverages--I was driving anyway). Then it was back northwards (in which direction the seminary lies anyway, so hardly out of my way) to drop Sierra off at the University.

It was hardly an "exciting" day, by normal standards. But by broken-leg-laid-up standards... it was akin to high adventure. Even before I made it to Chapters, I was enjoying myself simply because I took the long way getting there, and thus saw roads and parts of the city I haven't seen in months (because I never have cause to go that way). One thing I'm definitely noticing about this broken leg is that I LOVE driving. I mean, I enjoyed driving before... but now I love having any excuse to get out and go. Part of it, I'm sure, is just the change in surrounds, but I think there's also a lot to be said for the freedom of it. When I'm driving, I have exactly the same mobility as I would driving with two fixed legs. For the duration of the drive, I can pretend I'm back to normal.

Of course, a few hours of good conversation is a rare treat in any circumstances, and it would have been worth doing in most conditions. Not that the conversation was epic--conversation rarely is. There were no grand discussions of theology or philosophy to change the course of someone's view on the cosmic matters of the universe. Nor need there have been. Enjoyable conversation is more the stuff of literary taste and personal anecdotes, of little witticisms and in-jokes. It's not so much about WHAT is said, but the SAYING it.

It was, in any event, an enjoyable afternoon. And, in the grand scheme of things, it was another day to check off the calendar. Which means, if I get through today, that I'll pretty much be occupied into next week. Tomorrow, of course, is the Sociology final and in the afternoon I have an appointment at the Pastoral Centre towards the possible acquisition of a job for the summer. Between the two, that'll hopefully be adventure enough for one day--though it also means that I'll be back at the seminary at about 2:30 or 3:00, and out of stuff to do.

Saturday I'll study a bit for my History final (erm... or maybe not...), meet a prospective seminarian for next year at Fr. Shayne's request, and give him the low-down on going to Concordia. Once that's done, either before or after supper, I'll take off for Olds, and spend the night there.

Sunday, of course, is Mother's Day, which is why I'm going back to Olds. Time spent in Olds will occupy me well, and then it'll be back up to Edmonton that afternoon/evening so that I get a good night's sleep before my test Monday morning.

And then Monday is the test... and then what? I'm busy enough, I guess, to occupy me well enough until Monday Noon... but then my slate is wiped clean. The job, if I get it, doesn't appear to start until the week after, Tuesday the 22nd, following the Long Weekend.

Hmm... anybody in Edmonton next week with nothing to do?

Keeping Busy? Not a Problem

Yup... those sentiments of my last post are rather outdated-feeling at the moment, considering that I've been busy enough the last five days that I haven't blogged. I spent most of my weekend getting to Olds for my youngest sister's First Communion, and then getting back to the seminary.

I left for my aunt and uncle's on Saturday, spent the night there, and went up to Olds with them on Sunday morning. Sunday lunch, afternoon, and supper was a whirlwind day of family and church, finally ending with driving back north with my aunt and uncle, and spending another night at their place.

It was good to get home. I've been feeling a lot more like "Michael" the last few days. According to Dad, I'm sounding like him again too. Which is good, because today's visit to the doctor suggests that I'll be on crutches for another three weeks... if not longer. And right now, that isn't exactly what I think of as good news. True, I'm getting better and better with them, and stronger... but the insides of my armpits are starting to feel as though they're being rubbed raw.

So yeah, anything that makes me feel chipper is probably a good idea. And my second trip of the day didn't quite qualify. In a nutshell, I went to Concordia and completely sorted out all the paperwork for my deferred exams. As far as I'm aware, all I have to do is go in and write the things. Therein, however, lies the lack of potential unchipperness--who WANTS to write exams? I'll be happy to have them done, but I'm irked that I have to do them at all.

Still, it'll keep me busy over the next few days. And keeping busy is something I'm more interested in than ever. I so desperately want time to speed up and pass by. I'm not really depressed about the broken leg anymore... but I'm getting a little restless, and those crutches aren't fast enough to keep up with that restlessness, and they are so much more WORK! A couple of times now, and more, I've been sitting at the table or in the theatre, or somewhere, and my leg has been resting on the ground... and I just want to stand up on it. It feels SO much like I could, like it's just fallen asleep... but I've bumped it a couple times, and light as those times were, it was more than enough to remind me that, no, I can't walk. At all.

Speaking of the theatre, though... yesterday night the seminary went to Spiderman 3. Ah... yesterday night was a beautiful night. After a week and a half of being a quiet, reclusive seminary, a night of camaraderie and late-night snacking was perfect. It's why I preferred, deep down, to stay in the seminary rather than go home.

Spiderman was good. At least as good as its predecessors, and I would say more so. And considering that I enjoyed both of the earlier ones, I clearly enjoyed myself. However, that we went to the early showing, and there remained four hours of food, drink, and conversation back at the seminary.

Of course, the community has by this time been whittled down to a handful of guys, and the priests (and not all of them), but there's still enough to have a good party--and last night we did, despite Fr. Shayne getting his finger slammed in the car door and needing a couple hours to deal with the pain. Poor man-- and it was his right index finger, of all fingers. Of course, this makes the second accident/crisis in three weeks, mine being the first, after a year of nothing of the sort. If these things really do come in threes, one wonders who'll be next...