An Acceptable Time

Have a productive Lent, everyone.

In an ideal world, here I would write all kinds of holy things with a few nice quotes from saints to add a little Lenten flair to this blog. But, it's not an ideal world, I don't have any particularly pious sentiments to impart to the world, and my need to write a presentation on acne supercedes any enthusiasm for looking through saints' writings tonight. Maybe there will be some good quotes another day.

Well, as you just read, I'm giving a talk on acne tomorrow morning for my human biology class. We each chose a disease or other sort of problem, and I think that I get to be the first to report. I had grand plans, but time is running out so we'll see how well they'll come into effect.

My youngest brother and I are reading a children's book on St. Bernadette. I started tellign him snips of her story for about 2 minutes every night after prayers (starting with, "once upon a time there was a baby girl...") - but eventually I couldn't remember enough details to make it worth telling. So we found a book. I'm afraid that, even written for children, it's pretty significantly over his head- but with a little bit of recapping every few sentances, I think he might understand some of it. At least he likes it, and comes to show me the book every night with a question mark in his eyes.

I'm also reading Mansfield Park, by Jane Austen. I finished Emma a week or so ago, and liked it very much by the end. M.P. has a slightly different flavor. Has anyone read it before?

The most consternating part of this Ash Wednesday has been the revelation by our ballet instructor that the required end-of-the-year performance is going to be set to some awful atonal music. The inspiration for the dance is to be the modern-art picture of "The Scream". (!) Ballet's biggest going-point for me up to now was that we got to dance to very nice classical music. But, anyhow, this leaves me in something of a fix, trying to discern the line between stylistic snobbery (albeit well founded), and some sort of a duty to avoid what is not beautiful, if possible. Besides, is there any good in portraying fright and despair in body language?


After class I went outside the Music History classroom and listened to Mozart through the wall for an hour.