Sadly listening to Joy

Too many people go home on weekends, creating an anti-climax for those of us who don’t. Wandering around campus, I found several small pockets of activity: a group watching a movie, a group playing cards, and another group watching a movie. Today I don’t feel like doing much, so I shouldn’t complain about there not being much to do.

It’s not like I didn’t do anything. I finished my homework (for Monday). I batiked in the laundry room (we’ll see if it worked later). I observed some soccer being played. I ate ravioli that tasted like cigarette butts (I was wondering what that pseudo-familiar, disgusting taste was when Elvis told me that they tasted like cigarette butts, and I took another bite and said, “You’re right.” The cafeteria ladies don’t put as much love in their entrees on weekends.). I went for a walk with someone who can’t tell the difference between an oak and a maple (talk about diversity!), but she reminded me that I don’t know what an almond tree looks like. I cleared some papers off my desk.

So now I am just sitting here, listening to George Winston play “Joy,” his rendering of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” It’s funny how if I was in a more cheerful mood, I would find his arrangement particularly pleasant and peppy. But tonight, it sounds like a sympathizing lullaby.

Whenever you are feeling blue
Would you rather listen to
A song to make you tap your shoe
Or something blue along with you?