Ambivalence. It is a great word...especially for indecisive people. The word ambivalence means to hate and love something or someone equally. I am not only indecisive, but ambivalence is one of my favorite words. This may be because I learned the word freshmen year of high school. At that point of my life, when I used my extraordinary vocabulary including words like "whatever" and "ambivalent," ambivalence won a crowd over. Or I may love the word because, however vague the term is, it is an extremely descriptive word.
Ambivalence is a powerful word and can be used to describe powerful emotions. I have been ambivalent towards my mother when she is angry with me, ambivalent towards my last boyfriend when he broke up with me, and ambivalent towards the fact that I will not be an RA next year.
One thing I have learned about ambivalence is that it is a temporary word. There is only so long before a person decides they really do love or hate that something, or for the latter become neutral to the situation. There is a sense of band-aid in the word ambivalence. In the deepest of hearts, you love that person or thing, but can feel such hatred towards that something at the same time. Or we hate them so much, however, we know we love them the same. When we feel that hatred and equal pull of love we can't bring ourselves to say either. And that is when we become ambivalent.
And then we are reminded days, weeks, months, or years later that ambivalence is temporary. Our band-aid is no longer needed. We can be decisive; we can be neutral, loving, or feel disdain. And ambivalence becomes translucent to show our soul, where we have been, where we have come from and where we are at today.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Friday Night
Friday night. College student. 10 p.m.
Out partying, right?
Nope. Not me. I am listening to the raspy voice over a loudspeaker say, “The library is now closing, please check out all books at the front desk.” I sit astonished for a brief moment.
“The library is closing?,” I question my ears. “How could the library close at 10? It stays open until 12 every other night.”
And then it came to me. Even though I had not attended a chic bar for drinks and dancing that night does not mean the hip librarians did not want to go check out from a hard week of book keeping at one. It was either that or the book keepers pitied our souls and wanted us to have a life. Therefore, kicking all 5 of the scholars there out, 6 including me, was a grand option for them.
My response to them: Fun is not all lost on a Friday night in the library. Why? I left with a story, which is now conveniently typed for you below.
Upon arrival at the library, I chose a lovely desk outside the study rooms, because who is going to disturb you when there are only 5 other people in the library. At the time, I had no answer for that. Now, I do – the male student sitting in the study room to my right.
After a mere 5 minutes of intensely reading Systematic Theology, my ears were greeted with a happy tune. I looked up and after scanning the library realize it is coming from the whistling lips of the student in the study room. I figure he must not realize the rooms are not sound proof, but will stop soon. And he did, until about 10 minutes later when the whistling progressed into him belting out some muffled rock song with whistling in between. I look up from my book, over to him and my eyes met his squinted shut eyes, head nodding, mouth open singing, and his hands playing drums on the desk. All I could do to not laugh was – nothing. At first, I had been annoyed, but this was ridiculous. How could you not be amused? I then made it my mission to have it be known to him that the study room was not sound proof. My solution: to stare. And stare I did. It took him a full 3 minutes and 20 seconds of singing and finger tapping to realize I was staring, at which point, he kind of gasped for air, laughed and stared at his computer screen like nothing ever happened.
Two hours after that, I packed up my bags dismayed with the fact that the library closed at 10 p.m. And that was that. I had a story and many minutes of reading Systematic Theology. A colorful Friday night, if you ask me.
Out partying, right?
Nope. Not me. I am listening to the raspy voice over a loudspeaker say, “The library is now closing, please check out all books at the front desk.” I sit astonished for a brief moment.
“The library is closing?,” I question my ears. “How could the library close at 10? It stays open until 12 every other night.”
And then it came to me. Even though I had not attended a chic bar for drinks and dancing that night does not mean the hip librarians did not want to go check out from a hard week of book keeping at one. It was either that or the book keepers pitied our souls and wanted us to have a life. Therefore, kicking all 5 of the scholars there out, 6 including me, was a grand option for them.
My response to them: Fun is not all lost on a Friday night in the library. Why? I left with a story, which is now conveniently typed for you below.
Upon arrival at the library, I chose a lovely desk outside the study rooms, because who is going to disturb you when there are only 5 other people in the library. At the time, I had no answer for that. Now, I do – the male student sitting in the study room to my right.
After a mere 5 minutes of intensely reading Systematic Theology, my ears were greeted with a happy tune. I looked up and after scanning the library realize it is coming from the whistling lips of the student in the study room. I figure he must not realize the rooms are not sound proof, but will stop soon. And he did, until about 10 minutes later when the whistling progressed into him belting out some muffled rock song with whistling in between. I look up from my book, over to him and my eyes met his squinted shut eyes, head nodding, mouth open singing, and his hands playing drums on the desk. All I could do to not laugh was – nothing. At first, I had been annoyed, but this was ridiculous. How could you not be amused? I then made it my mission to have it be known to him that the study room was not sound proof. My solution: to stare. And stare I did. It took him a full 3 minutes and 20 seconds of singing and finger tapping to realize I was staring, at which point, he kind of gasped for air, laughed and stared at his computer screen like nothing ever happened.
Two hours after that, I packed up my bags dismayed with the fact that the library closed at 10 p.m. And that was that. I had a story and many minutes of reading Systematic Theology. A colorful Friday night, if you ask me.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Catching Fireflies
So there I sat. My foot bouncing up and down, toe-a-tapping, Nickel Creek a-playing. My world had suddenly turned into a joyous rendition of a backyard country fair. My mind was whisked away to mush at the thought of catching fireflies on a starry night and dancing while a blue grass band plucked the strings of their banjos.
And then my eyes scan to my left, there sat a middle aged women clucking to her husband about the status of our flight. I had arrived at the airport approximately 2 hours earlier and still had at least another 3 hours to go, all at the cost of a bird flying into the engine. Who would have thought a bird in the engine would cause a 5 hour delay? So then my eyes scan to the right and I spy the woman in a pink terry cloth jump suit with her hair pulled messily into a bun and eyes peering over a People magazine whom had befriended me the second I sat down. Apparently the thought of a 5 hour delay bonds people instantly. As soon as I had sat down and she heard me relay the status of our flight to my father over the phone, which I had thought to be a 2 hour delay at that point, her eyes widened. She leaned forward and informed me what she knew.
"I heard we might be delayed until the morning. I'm not staying here until the morning, I'll tell you that," said the pink lips. And with that she leaned back to hear my response. And then we were friends. Well, if you consider me watching her things while she uses the restroom and listening to her life story, friends.
The rest of the jet setters sat or stood in the waiting area tapping their foot with impatience or attempting to be content with a cup of joe and newspaper. The professionals all had their laptops out typing away furiously and some in conversation on their hip cell phone. And some like me, whisked away to another world in their headphones. So my mind went back to the romantic sounds of Nickel Creek now playing another beautiful picture. And there I was sitting on a back porch on a hot summer night in the South watching the whispy clouds make a path for the stars.
And then my eyes scan to my left, there sat a middle aged women clucking to her husband about the status of our flight. I had arrived at the airport approximately 2 hours earlier and still had at least another 3 hours to go, all at the cost of a bird flying into the engine. Who would have thought a bird in the engine would cause a 5 hour delay? So then my eyes scan to the right and I spy the woman in a pink terry cloth jump suit with her hair pulled messily into a bun and eyes peering over a People magazine whom had befriended me the second I sat down. Apparently the thought of a 5 hour delay bonds people instantly. As soon as I had sat down and she heard me relay the status of our flight to my father over the phone, which I had thought to be a 2 hour delay at that point, her eyes widened. She leaned forward and informed me what she knew.
"I heard we might be delayed until the morning. I'm not staying here until the morning, I'll tell you that," said the pink lips. And with that she leaned back to hear my response. And then we were friends. Well, if you consider me watching her things while she uses the restroom and listening to her life story, friends.
The rest of the jet setters sat or stood in the waiting area tapping their foot with impatience or attempting to be content with a cup of joe and newspaper. The professionals all had their laptops out typing away furiously and some in conversation on their hip cell phone. And some like me, whisked away to another world in their headphones. So my mind went back to the romantic sounds of Nickel Creek now playing another beautiful picture. And there I was sitting on a back porch on a hot summer night in the South watching the whispy clouds make a path for the stars.
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