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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| Perhaps the saddest thing in the world, is knowing that a broken heart is still beating, when it should have stopped long ago.
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| Washington DCThe series on Georgetown will continue. I thought I would take tonight to write about this summer in Washington DC. Besides the early heat wave that hit the city in the beginning of June, the temperature here has not gone up to more than 93. I saw my good friend Emily Lawson tonight, and earlier this summer I was able to meet with Patty, Hannah, Carmen, and Mike. These few occasions are perhaps the high-lights of these long summer days. Although they are still geographically near, their graduation has placed a gulf between us. But despite of that, they are still the people who know me the best, and whom I hold dearest. I am living in the same apartment as in last summer, taking walks on the same campus, going to the same church, following pretty much the same routine. Although outwardly everything remained the same, I have grown through another year of trial and tribulations, lived and traveled thoroughly another side of the world. Washington DC remained very much similar, but the eyes that perceive this city have changed dramatically.
Each morning I get up around 7 o'clock, at 8 I leave my house to join the multitude of federal government employees to brave the morning rush hours. Buses and metros are packed with professionals, varying from various cabinet department employees to congressional staffers. Occasionally you might run into somebody from the private sector. As far as this city goes, it is still dominated by ambitious young people who are looking to move up the political ladder. Once we get off the bus, all of us walk in the speed of 124235 miles per hour. Things instantly slow down as I enter my office, in which I would tediously spend the next 8.5 hours. At days end I would again immersed into the crowd, but I would be exhausted after a full day of research. The afternoon crowd differs little from its morning counterpart, only that instead of a newspaper in their hands, almost everybody would have their blackberries, texting or calling fellow colleagues about some unfinished business. And certainly majority of people, myself included, would have an IPod in hand, indulging in our little individual worlds of selfishness. Although we are never alone on the metro, in our worlds we are all alone.
And over the weekends, the same group of young, ambitious, technological-savvy Washingtonians would join me in church. We would finish our church service in precisely one hour, and thereafter immediately return to our little personal world, forgetting the most important verb about church: linger. Of course that is very different from the days that I have gotten used to in the Czech Republic. In Prague I saw a small group of Christians lightening community salvaged by war and oppression; in Washington DC I see a large group of Christians indulging only in their small world, doing little about the missions at hand. In the midst of this crowd, in the NCC crowd, I know I hate this lifestyle. And I know that this daily 9-5 selfish pursuit tells very little of who we are. The title on your name-tag reveals little of your soul. Throw away those IPods or blackberries, trash that work ID, there is world out there, do you hear it?
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| Leavey CenterDuring my nightly walks over the past few weeks, I always climb up to one of my favorite places on campus. Its view has somehow been obstructed by the new business school building, but the grandeur comes from the other side of campus. At around 8 o'clock every evening, the splendid light of the setting sun speaks volumes about our Creator and our longing for beauty.
But the first time I stepped on Leavey Esplanade was an entirely different setting. It was the rainy morning of August 27, 2005. Parents and freshmen, including me, flooded to the bookstore to purchase those expensive yet worthless books. Leavey has then become a place where I did nothing but spend more and more money. Whether it is the bookstore, or the food court, or Vittles, or simply the ATM, I found my bank account growing ever smaller each time I step into Leavey. My only all-nighter in my college years was spent in Leavey, not for any last minute finish on a paper, but for a spot in the Dip Ball ticket line. I spent that night with my good friends Jay, Emily, Gillian, Patty, and Jon Hesson. I had since then decided I will never go to Dip Ball again.
Leavey would not have meant anything to me had not been for those Wednesday lessons. For about one hour every Wednesday morning, Shawn and I would sit in the Leavey food-court to talk about anything and everything. In those short hours, I found comfort, direction, and callings for my entire life.
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| Some things never change...and perhaps I will learn not to hope for the next time.
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| Club LauThe most popular place on campus is surprisingly also the ugliest. Its attraction is not its music, entertainment set (for there are some), or its drinks. Students, including me, flock to that place out of mere necessity. I don't visit Club Lau as nearly as often as some other students, but I had my fair share of frustration within that place. I have never ceased to regard that place as a gas chamber, not only for its ugly shape, but also for the victims who innocently walk into it, knowing little how their fate would be changed.
I spent my Thanksgiving break there last year, writing my history term paper. Pretty much for the entire month of November, my classmates and I spent everything evening in the editing room trying to piece together our documentary. Although I have never pulled an all-nighter in Club Lau, I had been there on numerous occasions until 4-5 am. The mocha from Midnight Mug sustained me throughout that period. I am sure that is only a typical experience in Club Lau, but I hope people walk out of that place feeling more than defeated and frustrated. I try to avoid Club Lau as much as possible. Although I have never found any drunkards inside the walls of Club Lau, I have seen plenty of people having hang-over from stress. Tears are common patron of this exclusive club.
Yet to me personally, Club Lau serves a more noble purpose. It is an accurate, unforgiving, honest reflection of time. A mere glance at the atrium could tell you what day of the week, what time of the year, and what season of life this campus undergoes. It has witnessed people like me, who have gone through the years mostly unnoticed by majority of the campus, but could hardly escape the tragedy of Joseph Mark Lauinger Library.
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