Let the Games Begin!

Today I entered into the den of wolves.
Today I journeyed forth into the treacherous wilds.
Today I returned to the Gladiator's Arena.
Today I entered into the modern world's equivalent of the Hunger Games.
Today... Today I started my sophomore year of college... 

Alright, fine, that might be a little too melodramatic way of putting it, but it sounded pretty neat in my head.

In all seriousness though, I really did give up the glorious freedom of the summer in order to don once again the shackles of time devouring academia for ultimate good of my intellectual prowess.

This morning I arose, not before the sun began its daily arc across the sky, but significantly earlier than I would arise on a typical day during the summer blessed months of the year. Thankfully I had been granted the brilliant foresight to go to bed significantly earlier than I typically would have on a summer blessed night. As a result I was more refreshed than I otherwise would have been but as I flopped out of my haystack and shuffled around my room of rest I couldn't help be feel like it was a cruel fact of life that one must ever leave their pillow and blanket to face the world at large.

Upon donning apparel appropriate for the public and one assisting with the instruction of a math I ascended the great climb out of the depths of my parent's cellar and up into the greater portion of my Clan Patriarch's mansion. At the top of the stairs I acquired a box of nutritious and delicious morning sustenance from the shelf of glorious cereals and combined this most amazing of food items with some milk from a land other than Canaan in order to complete the daily ritual of fast breaking.  

After fueling my inner furnace of the morning I felt slightly more prepared to tackle the trials of my day and began to hunt down the last minute materials I needed in order to properly stock my survival pack. It already contained nine some books of educational text which was only possible because the dearest of Clan Matriarchs had acquired for her Sonny-Jim a survival pack of the rolling nature so that my already crooked back would not be completely and utterly shattered and obliterated beyond recognition. These days my pack is able to contain, not only all of my books of educational text, but my THREE calculators (mhm mhm), all of my utensils for the writing and recording of words and numbers, and also my sustenance for duration of the day.

Because my afore mentioned Matriarch doth love her eldest living at home son so dearly she had acquired many a snack item for me over the last few weeks and I had quite a selection of munchings and crunchings to choose from in order to supplement the taco soup I figured I would not have a chance to eat until late in the day. As it turned out, the munchings and crunchings of a snack nature were the only thing that prevented my internal furnace from imploding in such a manner that my entire essence would have collapsed in upon itself.

More on that later.

Eventually both my father, my Patriarch, and the Sister of the Organ were ready to depart with my Patriarch taking mine sister to the place of the Great Patriarch so that she would be able to practice upon the Organic musical device there. I got dropped off at the educational facility that I kind of call home during those months of the year reserved for learning.

I arrived with approximately an hour and a half before my first brainwashing session. ("Why did he wake up so early then?" you might ask. To that I would answer "Good Question.") Because of my early arrival I decided I would be among those who are punctual and I would go print out all of my syllabi for the semester. This turned out to be a much greater challenge then it probably should have been; partly because every other student on campus seemed to have the same idea.

I delved down deep into the dark depths of the destitute and decrepit building (it actually isn't that bad at all) that I spend most of my time in in order to access the only computer lab under that particular facility's protection. Sadly, not only were there about a bajillion other students all trying to frantically print things off before rushing off their classes that had started ten minutes previously but ALL FOUR printers in said room were acting oddly. Two were not receiving half the print jobs sent to them, one started printing the same five sheets of paper over and over again in a loop, and one started jamming every three pages.

After one attempt at getting my syllabi out of one of those printers I said myself I said "Nick my man. This is madness, pure madness." and I left that place. I then said myself I said "Nick, are we not a resourceful and creative type of individual? Do we not have connections within this building of higher learning? Do we not fight until we have won? Can we really let these printers' mockery of us defeat us?" to which I responded "No myself, we cannot let that happen. Let us use all the skillz and intellects we have gained from our time here to remedy this situation."

I quickly sprinted up four flights of stairs (actually I took the large box of up and down transportation) and made my way through the maze of sleepy looking professors Math Center of Tutorial Education that I call a home of sorts. For those of you that might not be aware, I am one of those self sacrificing souls who are willing to give up their spare time for the sake of assisting the mathematically handicapped with the trials placed upon them by their cruel professors. I do this, of course, purely for the sake of being a generous and caring individual who wishes to assist and care for his fellow students... and also because I get paid for it.

Anyway, I happened to recall quite triumphantly that there was a printer within the tutoring center that I could make use of, and because absolutely no one comes to the tutoring center on the first day of classes I felt fairly confident that I would not have to compete with any frantic biology or nursing students to use it. Alas, upon getting myself situated at the computer in the tutoring center my boss, henceforth know as Captain Kirk, informed me that the printer in the tutoring center was no longer working.

Tragedy.
Heartbreak.
The very fabric of time and the universe ripping apart in remorse. 

I had been defeated after all. I had called in every neuron and source of brainpower I could muster in order to come up with the Tutoring Center plan. What was I to do? What could I do? Walk three minutes across campus and use the computers in another building? Ridiculous I say. Ain't nobody got time fo' dat!

Was this the end? Had I lost before I had even begun? Was their any hope for me without my syllabi? Yes, yes there was. It came in the form of my marvelous boss Captain Kirk.

The Captain didst propose to my poor and defeated soul as I lay broken and whimpering in a corner of the tutoring center that if I emailed him the documents I needed he could print them off for me using the faculty printer!  Suddenly all did not seem so terrible after all. A light at the end of the tunnel was actually in sight. Once again hope and joy began to fill my life. Everything was going to be alright. I would live, and the very fabric of time and the universe would not need to rip apart in remorse!

Captain Kirk made good on his offer and I was able to proudly strut off to my first class with plenty of time left to spare. Slightly giddy with my success I accidentally sat down in the classroom for my last class of the day but thankfully A) the professor who was actually teaching that class came in early and let me know I was in the wrong place B) that kind of thing happens a lot the first week of classes and no one judged me but myself and C) all three of my classes on Monday and Wednesdays are within thirty feet of each other. Neat huh?

So I just skipped across the hall to my actually correct classroom even if I had been sobered a bit from that embarrassing episode. Within the walls of the actually correct classroom I was reunited with my fellow Honors Student and school friend the Queen of the Cakepop people. The Queen and I had been in communication over the summer and she had what is now my third calculator for me to purchase form her at a greatly reduced price. I knew she was going to be there but I was surprised to see that Serra the Smelter, another fellow Honors Student was also taking the class with us.

I didn't know anyone else there and therefore didn't care about them...

Shortly after entering the classroom my professor, who has a wicked awesome accent that is apparently that of an East Coast person, entered the room and began to impart knowledge upon us in the form of mathematical factoids. As is pretty typical, our learning for the first was pretty limited and mostly devoted to the learning of her syllabus and the names of those students that surrounded us. I was designated three classmates to babysit, er, work with and thus I came to actually care about their existence and learn their names. Their faces rose out of the sea of nameless individuals I must dodge to reach my class and formed into actual people.

You can tell I am not education or social work major because talking about other humans like that would earn me an automatic F on my degree.

Anywho, my first class passed without any incidents of terribleness and I was able to traverse the thirty feet between my classrooms with ease. Unfortunately, since I lined up all of my responsibilities on Mondays to be back to back I had no time to really eat and it was at this time approaching the hour typically dedicated to munching and crunching for me. I inhaled a few cracker sandwich snacks courtesy of my beloved and life saving Matriarch in order to hold me over or another seventy five minutes and sat down for my class on Verbal Communication in Front of Other People aka Speech Class.

Talking in front of people has never been something that I have struggled with (actually it has been kind of the opposite problem), so when you hear about that student who gets physical ill from nervousness during speech class you are not hearing about me. You are hearing about seventy-five percent of my class. (No one got sick. Do not panic.)

My teacher turned out to be a very enthusiastic woman determined to make sure we all understood that we would survive her class. Apparently she has a perfect track record and not a single student has died in her class. I haven't investigated closely but I'm not sure many of my other professors could make the same claim. Needless to say, I was impressed with her mad skillz and I think the class will end up going very smoothly as long as I don't accidentally go overtime on each and every one of my speeches. My ultimate goal, because I am an overachiever, is to ascend to the glorious Speech Night Finals and win the award for best Persuasive Speech of the semester. I have some tough competition though from yet another fellow Honors Student who signed up for the same Speech Class as me without my knowing and whom I will affectionately call the Loud Honors Student or "The Loud One." By her name you might guess that she also lacks a fear of talking in front of people and will probably be might top competitor in the vicious fight to be the best public speaker of the semester.

Good luck Loud One. May the odds be ever in your favor.

After that class I would have loved to eat an actual lunch but instead I inhaled a few more crackers and dashed up two flights of stairs (actually I rode in the box again, but don't judge. It is hard to dash up stairs with a rolling survival pack). I said I have three classes on Mondays and that is the certifiable truth but I actually attend four because I am helping to teach one! For whatever reason Captain Kirk thought it would actually be a good idea to have me to serve as an SI (Supplemental Instructor or Super Intelligentone. Your pick.) in his college algebra class.

So I sat there and mostly listened to him go over the syllabus for the first day, although I did answer a few questions and introduce myself, while wishing that I was eating many of the foods. Once we had suitably covered the contents of the syllabus and gotten to know everyone in the class a bit (I found out that Captain Kirk plays the same video games as I) we learned about functions and were kicked out the door so the next class could take place.

Did I get to eat food at that point? No. No I did not.

Instead I got to go to my last class of the day on Visual Literacy which is classified as a Journalism class. Once again I discovered that a previous classmate, although not an Honors one, was in the same class as me and I was briefly reunited with Miss Whovian before our class got underway. My professor turns out to actually be a journalist who works for the local news station and maintains their website so I decided he was probably pretty legit and that I could trust him at least a little bit.

Fort our first class he actually didn't waste time reading the syllabus to us and started teaching (I didn't realize that was allowed...) and we spent most of the class and looking at different images while he kind of gave an overview of the different kinds of theories and topics about photos and pictures we would be covering in the class. The biggest thing that he stressed was that, as journalists, you should never attempt to alter your image or stage your photo in such a way that is portrays a particular opinion. He says it happens all the time, but the goal should be to simply record and report with your images and not use them to portray a particular side of a story. I found that to be rather interesting and I kinda look forward to that class more than I thought I would.

After that I was done. It was eight and a half hours since I had arrived on campus and nine and a half hours since I had last eaten anything of substance. I had not been outside since I got to school. I practically flew to the microwave where I heated to an appropriate temperature the taco soup that I had brought for my lunch (lolz!) and devoured it with relish as I looked back upon how my day had gone thus far.

Despite being hungry for most of it and despite the stupid printer issue I was actually feeling pretty content. I had been nervous about the four classes a day thing, but after getting a glimpse at my Monday/Wednesday classes I don't think it will be a problem, especially since I am assisting and not actually taking one of them. Getting back into the school mindset wasn't as hard as I had feared and I'm now really getting kind of hyped for the rest of the semester.

Summer was great, amazing actually, but I'm ready to take up my vocation again. IUSB grew on me a lot more than I had thought and in some ways it felt like I was coming back home this morning. Sure there are people and ideas there that irritate me, but sometimes the people and their ideas back at my real home can irritate me as well. (Sorry sibs, but you are my sibs.)

I made it through one day and I know that, by the Grace of God, I will make it through the next four months and will actually do pretty well. It will be a long haul but I'm looking forward to the challenge and hoping to get a lot out of it. When it is over I will be 18 credits closer to graduation and will have had another life lesson in learning how to work and manage one's time.

Now, while I hope you all enjoyed my attempt at making a first day back at school sound entertaining, it is time for me to prepare my survival kit for another long day tomorrow and return my hatstack for another night.

Thanks for reading.

Pax.

Adventures in the Iron Jungle

Somewhere between a month and two months ago Colonel Raymond approached me with the possibility of the two of us undertaking a dangerous expedition to the Iron Jungle along the southern edge of the Great Lake. Yesterday that possibility became a reality and the Colonel, serving as my trusty sidekick and guide, journeyed with me into that rather wild and primal country of steel trees and concrete floors.

I will not pretend that I had no reservations about the trip. That land has been known to swallow the unwary adventurer whole and the minds of many a brave soul have been reduced to nothing more than broken and sniveling shells after witnessing the world under the cover of those steel trees. I did, however, feel fairly confident in my ability to at least survive, if not thrive, in that hive of mechanical and engineering monstrosities and I knew that the Colonel had taken similar trips, on his own even, numerous times in the past. He was a veteran of the Iron Jungle and had even traversed across the country to the Great Concrete Forest famous for the Guardian of Liberty that guards it shores. I trusted that my sidekick would be able to guide my safely through the dangers of the Jungle alive and well and I did not go in unprepared. Armed with my knife, my telecommunications device, my money pouch, and my photographic soul stealer I was ready for an adventure.

Our journey began far earlier in the day (before nine o'clock even) than I was usually like, but I've been meaning to get back into my sleeping schedule for the education era anyway so I didn't mind too much. We met at the chariot station where the Matriarch of my clan dropped me off and the Colonel demonstrated to me how one went about acquiring passage to the chariots. Once we had gained access to our means of vehicular transportation I began to settle down and adjust to the fact that I was on a chariot for the first time since my relatively early childhood. The Colonel was truly shocked to discover that I had not ridden the chariot out of our homeland of River's Curve previously. As it would turn out, the day was full of me doing things I had never done before and that the Colonel and at which the Colonel was a confident veteran.

On the way to the Jungle we borrowed an hour of time from Kronos in order to give us a greater length of time in which to explore the wild so we arrived with close to two hours left to our morning. Our first mission within the Jungle itself was to acquire access to their local methods of transportation. I was pleased to see that despite the wildness of the location they were no longer using horse drawn carriages as their method of getting about and had actually developed rather sophisticated and complex ways of getting from one part of the jungle together. I am afraid that if my sidekick was not as skilled in navigating the various routes within this transportation system as he was I would have gotten quite lost very quickly. Thankfully he and his telecommunication device were able to lead us through the Jungle quite effectively all day long.

But I am getting distracted.

We acquired our transportation day passes and found our way to one of the Iron Jungles incredibly intriguing chariots that fly through the air above the many trails and pathways along the Jungle floor. It was my first time in a local chariot and although it wobbled back and forth a great deal it was a truly exciting experience to be flying above the many very tiny looking natives below me as we sped from one part of the city to the next.

After getting off of the aerial chariot we made our way to the largest of the Jungle's Steel Trees. I had seen this particular monster of a tree many times before, but only from a distance and only in passing. To be at its feet looking up was... interesting to say the least. Some individuals, both natives and other adventurers like ourselves, were actually climbing their way to the summit of this mount of steel and and glass, but the Colonel and I were strapped for funds and did not have the willingness to fund such a side venture. Instead we contented ourselves with looking at the beast from below, and I think that was quite satisfactory.

From the juggernaut of a tree we trekked by foot to the Grand Chariot station of the Jungle Union and wondered aimlessly around there for awhile, turning away the natives who sought hungrily after our savings because we are hardhearted and cruel like that. From the the station we caught a ground carriage to naval peninsula located along the shore of the Great Lake and well known for its attraction to non native adventurers like myself. I had, actually, been to the naval peninsula once before with the Elder brother but that had been on a very focused mission and we hadn't spent any time exploring the area. The Colonel and I came not as driven soldiers as my brother and I had previously, but as those seeking adventure and new lands and so we walked all along the outside edge of the peninsula and explored the insides of a large glass dome with regular trees growing inside of it.

By this time Colonel Raymond and I could feel our tumblies getting the rublies though and we opted to bring out visit to the peninsula to a close and hunt down some game to feast upon. The Colonel had heard of a local hunting ground that was relatively easy to gather from without having to fork over too many funds to the natives and yet still offered some pretty decent munchings and crunchings. It turned out that the place we visited (With a name that escapes me but sounded a little bit like Pinocchio) actually was pretty good and I partook in a specialty game native to the Iron Jungle and very thoroughly enjoyed by natives and adventurers there alike.

From the Pinocchio dinner the Colonel and I decided to take the underground pathways to the Oriental Orientated section of the Jungle. Once again I had a first as I rode a chariot UNDER THE GROUND. It was quite spectacular to descend beneath the concrete floor of the jungle only to discover a thriving hive of activity invisible and silent to those crawling about above right underneath their feet. I did get reprimanded by a native for taking photos of the trains down there but I think he may have thought I was going to use flash at an oncoming train which certainly would have been a bad idea (Or maybe he thought I was trying to steal their souls.).

Once in the Oriental Orientated area we found statues representing the twelve eras of each year and their animal counterparts that I found to be quite fascinating. I will admit that my understanding of the Oriental Orientated area was slightly misguided going in. I had previously those that the OO was meant to be a hotspot location for adventurers like myself and the Colonel to expose ourselves to the ethnicity of the other side of the world. Turns out it really was primarily a location when those from the Oriental Orientated part of the world were able to dwell within the Jungle without feeling too far separated from their home. As a result the Colonel and I were able to ooh and aah over the appearance of the place but the script written along their walls and wares was impossible for us to decipher.

From the OO we traversed to a slightly more natural jungle within the Iron Jungle where we observed a variety of animals in some not so natural habitats. Monkeys, zebras, aligators, and a tiger were among the beasts we studied there and I was quite impressed by the fact that the Iron Jungle provided such a nice zoology exhibit for the public without requiring any sort of fee. Even though we ended up showing up just before closing time and many of the animals were in hiding or sleeping I thought it was a rather enjoyable experience and was quite impressed with the quality of the habitats and the variety of the creatures (I saw a mongoose!).

After the jungle within the Jungle we started heading back the chariot station we would use to return home, but on the way we stopped at a truly magnificent fountains that is in fact not located in England despite its misleading name and wondered through a charming little park near the Iron Jungle Institute of Art that I had visited once before with a crew of my education peers. On our way out of the park we stopped and greeted the enormous metal bean that dwells there and picked up from Cream of Ice for refreshment before saying goodbye to the Iron Jungle as the sun started to set in earnest.

Back down into the underground tunnels to our station and our chariot the Colonel and I descended. We made a quick pit stop and the Chariotway sandwich kiosk before boarding our ride home. Upon our return the Patriarch of our clan arrived with the family carriage which I used to transport the Colonel back to his turf before return my Patriarch and myself back to our own place of lodging.

All in all, it was a truly amazing adventure and I must offer my sincere thanks to the Colonel for suggesting such a quest. The Iron Jungle both amazes and intimidates me. I could never live there as a native because despite having always thought of myself as more or less being a "city slicker" I find that the overwhelming amount of the people there and the enormity of the iron trees makes me feel a little bit claustrophobic and suppressed and that, given the opportunity, I would find living out in the natural wilds much more to my liking. As a place to visit for a short time however, the Iron Jungle is truly a remarkable place. Their aerial chariots and their towering trees of steel make for a very entertaining place to be. The variety and the complexity of place inhabited by so many varying souls is simultaneously awesome and terrifying. So many natives... so many adventurers... too many for me to handle long term served as an interesting reminder that the world is a lot bigger and a lot fuller than I usually think and that my little town of River Curve isn't actually very large at all.

I have no doubt that I will return to the Iron Jungle again some day and I'll likely pass through many, many more times in my life as I have passed through many, many times already, but this visit was quite possibly the most enjoyable one I'll ever have the opportunity to have. Thanks Colonel Raymond for an excellent idea.

Pax

Working Hard or Hardly Working?

The beginning and the end are always the hardest for me. Once I get going I rarely have trouble keeping up a great deal of momentum but I never know where to start or when to end. I have a tendency to go overboard in just about everything that I do. If I can muster up enough motivation to overcome the initial inertia than I tend to keep going until I go overboard and either cause a disaster of some sort or run myself completely out of steam. Introductions and conclusions have just never been my strong point.

 That is partially why I benefit so much from a schedule that defines my activities and the way that I spend my time for me. When I can refer to my schedule and say "Oh dearest calendar, what must I do today?" and it can give me an answer I find it significantly easier to accomplish those things that I should. When left to my own devices I can wile away many an hour dithering over what I should do next and how I should spend my time, and when I do start up something it tends to be one of those things that manages to absorb a great deal of my time without actually providing any great benefit (such as Facebook, email, and video games). When graced with the strict, unyielding rigidness of a set in stone schedule I am able to hit the notes and fulfill my duties in a much more timely and effective manner.

This summer has been a truly remarkable summer, but it has (by and large) be extremely sporadic. I've worked about eight hours a week and that has given a couple days out of the week some sense of order and there have been a few times when I've gone a trip someplace where the goings on of that location have helped me organize and order my comings and goings, but for the majority of the summer I have acted (or failed to act) based on a whim and without a whole lot of diligence on my part. By now I am going to bed far too late and getting up in the same manner. Certain things that I really could have, and probably should have, done this summer ended up just not happening because I didn't find a way to work them into my daily routine... making a daily routine in the first place probably would have helped with that.

In just over a week the freedom and frivolousness of summer shall be gone and I will dive into a new schedule that promises to not allow me any wiggle room in which I can waste away time that could be better spent doing other things. In just over a week I enter the era of the sophomore and I once again will start serving my vocation as a college student. As I attempt to juggle six classes/eighteen credits with what now amounts to anywhere between 15 and 20 hours of work each week as a math tutor, student instructor (in a math class), and a performance usher I think the times in which I have to question what I should do next will be few and far between.

Don't get me wrong though. I'm not complaining and I'm not trying to brag. I'm pretty sure I'll be able to handle the work load (I wouldn't have taken it on if I didn't) and I am fully aware of the fact that there are a lot of people who are a lot more strapped for time than me and have to work a lot harder. I figure that between my jobs and school schedule it will be comparable to a slightly more demanding than average full time job and I'm fine with that. I'm actually pretty happy about it.

Like I was saying, I need a pretty compact schedule in order to make sure I'm using my time wisely. I really needed this summer after the last school year, but now I really need the order of another school year after this summer. Instead of getting stressed out over the fact that I have so much I'll have to do I'm learning to appreciate just how blessed I am to have all of these opportunities. The fact that I even have the option to do what I'm doing is an incredible gift. Many of the concerns that weigh on the hearts and minds of my peers and classmates aren't things that I have to worry about.

Between my parents, my school, and the government I've been given the opportunity to completely throw myself into my studies and work without having to worry about where I'm going to sleep or when I'm going to eat. I'm working hard to try and be financially responsible but I'm not dealing with the stress of how to pay the bills or where I'm going to find the money to pay for dem lovely school books My response to anyone commenting on how much work I'd doing this year will be the same as it was last school year. I'm only taking advantage of the situation I've been put in.

To not take as many classes as I am or to turn down the work opportunities I've been given feels like it would be entirely irresponsible. I'm not working hard and doing well because I'm such a great person. I'm working hard and doing as well as I am because I've been surrounded by people who have my back and are taking care of the hard things for me. The handful of times over this summer when I've fretted about whether or not I'm going to be able to handle this semester have been the times when I've been acting particularly selfish and lazy. My parents are working an 'ell of a lot harder than I am and they didn't get a summer off. My brother finishing up his Master's didn't really get what you would call a break either. He's working more hours than I am while still going to school and he's got a wife and daughter to care for in addition to the rent to pay and a car to maintain. I've got classmates trying to juggle the duties of being a single parent, working their jobs, and going to school all at the same time. The amount of work I have to do pails in comparison to theirs because I'm doing what I'm doing by choice and because I have the freedom to do so. My dad can't decide that his job is just a little to stressful and let his boss know that he can't work as many hours because he has a family to take care of. Almost every time I interact with either of my bosses they let me know that I'm a student first (I work on campus) and they'll work my work schedule around me school one. Most people don't have that kind of an opportunity.

I'll probably have to work pretty hard this semester, but by all rights I should be working a lot harder and no matter how much effort I put in there is someone who is undoubtedly working harder.

The work I will do is a blessing for which I should be incredibly thankful and that I only can do because of the work of those who are watching out for me.

Wait a minute... huh... that sounds kind of familiar actually. Sounds oddly like, oh I dunno, maybe the story of everyone's life actually.

See, the fact is that with the exception of one incredibly exceptional individual, no one ever anywhere is or has been able to work as hard as they should have to, and all the good that you are ever able to accomplish in life simply pales in comparison to what is supposed to be required. Why? Because we're all fallen, sinful human beings with a whole lot of baggage that makes all of our "hard work" nothing but filth and rags.

In the face of the Law we're presented with a very long list of things that we are supposed to do and that we should be working on that we can never hope to complete. The schedule that the Law gives us would require a whole lot more than 24 hours a day and 7 days a week to meet. God's Law demands that we be perfect and flawless in every possible way. It demands that we never, ever slip up or make a mistake. Eighteen credit hours and twelve hour shifts look like a tuppence in comparison the workload we are presented in the Ten Commandments.

But here's the thing. Just as I don't have to worry about making sure I have food to eat or a bed to sleep in, and just as my parents are watching out and taking care of me while I carry out my studies, each and everyone of us has our backs covered and our burdens taken out of our hands by someone. Christ's death and resurrection served as the ultimate Financial Aid packet to completely cover all expenses and free us from the crushing workload that the Law dumps in front of us.

We do not need to spend our days endlessly worrying about whether or not we are working hard enough or trying hard enough to fulfill our duties and responsibilities because they've already been fulfilled and taken care of. The projects are done, the papers are written, the fridge is full, and the roof isn't leaking. The debts are paid and the creditors won't come calling. As long as we rest under the protective shadow of the Gospel the Law cannot touch us.

However, just as it would be completely disrespectful and irresponsible for me to take advantage of my parent's generosity and compassion and just live in their basement while mooching off their food and funds, the fact that our debts have been paid and our expenses covered does not give us a free ticket to just do whatever we want to do. Christ has freed us from the bonds of sin so that we might be free to do good works and benefit others.

If I were to slack off in my classes or not show up to work I would be totally disrespecting everyone that has worked hard to give me the opportunities I have been given. Sure I may not be desperate for the money from my jobs and if my parents are letting me live at home I may not really need to worry about getting through college and getting a job, but after all the sacrifices that my parents have made to get me where I am and after the generosity and support that my professors and bosses have show how could I justify giving them a metaphorical slap to the face by ignoring my vocation and duties.

Christ died for us and set us free, not so we could throw off all responsibility and run wild like hooligans but so that we could, in the confidence of the Gospel, fulfill our vocations for the betterment of ourselves and those around us. If you were a debtor, owing a great deal of money, and someone came along and paid off all of your debts, would you not desire to show your thanks by never getting into that position again? Sure, you aren't required to work hard or pay them back because they did what they did out of grace and mercy and they are likely to d it again if necessary, but wouldn't you want to show your gratitude and thanks for their generosity by taking advantage of the gift they gave you and the freedom you then would have to actually work hard and earn your own keep?

The freedom that we have been given by the Gospel should encourage and invigorate us to work hard and to help others; to use that freedom as a means of showing our appreciation and as a way to improve the lives of others and not as an excuse to cop out and take a nap. We don't HAVE to pay off any debts anymore because they've been paid but if you have the chance or the ability then why wouldn't you then show the same grace and mercy to others that you have been shown by helping to ease the loads of others. Good works are good because they are done in freedom and for the sake, not of yourself, but of others.

I'm going to try my very best this semester, not because I'm a spectacular person or because I think that I'm going get myself ahead in the world through my own efforts, but because I've been given the opportunity. There is nothing significant about me that makes me better than any of my other classmates who are more limited in what they are able to do except that I have been given the chance to do more. I can hope and pray that I'll manage to live up to the gifts that I've been given, but honestly, I know I won't. I'm gonna mess up. I'm probably going to forget or fail to do something when I should and I'm definitely going to be lazy when I should be working, but because I know that even when I fall my parents and friends will be there to help me back up on my feet, I can boldly push forward and attempt to tackle the trials set before me even though I know I'll probably falter.

In the same way, I'm going to try my vest best to do what's right in life. I'm going to make a whole lot of mistakes (I've made what feels like more than enough already.) but I can forge ahead and keep trying anyway because I know that I'm already covered and my debts are already paid and at this point I don't need to worry about whether I'm standing on a foundation of sand or stone. I can face uncertainty with confidence and make what I believe to the right choice and the choice that is best for those around me, because I don't have to fret over whether or not I'll be safe.

No, I may not be the most eloquent of writers and you may be wondering how I got from where I started to where I am not, but hey, I told you beginnings and ending's weren't my strong point. Thankfully, I don't have to worry about this being perfect and I wrote this because it seemed like something worth writing and not because I was expecting to create a masterpiece.

Good luck to you all as you pursue your own vocations and duties, whether they be similar to mine or completely different and live in the comfort of Gospel and the Resurrection and not in the fear of the world. That schedule, as tough as it may seem, is nothing compared to the one that you've been freed from.

Pax