Johnsonian style. Backloaded blog. Spirituality and English. Get it?

Anticipating next quarter. Signed up for classes today at 6:50am. Taking four? 3 english classes and a history class perhaps? Question mark because I'm not really sure I can handle it, I just like the idea of taking on something huge - and maybe getting through it. Might dropp a class and am ok with that... Right now I'm sitting in a puddle of papers. 6-8 pages for an english paper due Monday and a lovely 12-15 pages for West African history also due Monday. Life is pushed back until Monday and these three days of my life will be dedicated to reading, writing, revising, and writing some more.

But the victory, I suppose, is my final decision to continue pursuing english despite the fact that for several moments in the past few days a senior spring quarter with only 3 easy history classes sounded extremely appealing to me... but let's be honest - not my style. I like to load up on as much hard work as possible - why should my potential but probably not last quarter at UCLA be any different? But back to english. Something about it pursues me even when I run. I've contemplated dropping the minor, dropping classes, etc. several times... but right when I need to make a decision concerning it - I am wooed by words... words written centuries ago, written 50 years ago, written yesterday... words that have no meaning to me, words that enlighten me, words that encompass me, words that I'd rather not read again because they confuse me (ie. "In Parenthesis")...

Something clicked for me yesterday while I sat in Chaucer and listened to my professory teach medieval Roman Catholic theology, while I analytically read "Happy Days" by Samuel Beckett and loved it, while I listened to JD describe the canonical satire of Mark Twain, while I prepared for my final paper in the 10 series (3 courses considered the "weeder" courses for the english major/minor) and realized that I had a cohesive argument in comparing Samuel Beckett's "Happy Days" with Elizabeth Barret Browning's "The Romaunt of Margaret" in examining the author's depiction of failing human love...

So I carry on. Thinking perhaps there is something divine in this pursual of english. My prayers about the future, prayers that God would make me fall in love with the things He loves, that I would persevere through hard classes, failings, disappointment, and frustration to know Him and know His will... That He would give me grace to see as He sees... trusting that this is happening and trusting that there is His Sovereignty in my passions... trusting that I am placed here to pursue until God directs me elsewhere... trusting that I've acknowledged I don't desire my will over His... I write this and realize that I'm not meant to decide where God may use me for His kingdom - choice, yes. But what I mean in that statement - is that God has perhaps called me to something higher and much different than I could have ever imagined, and even though I may think I know where I may best be used for the kingdom - the reality is that it's not mine to decide. As His servant, as a daughter of the King who longs only to do His will, I hand over the decisions to Him. He makes me move... And maybe it's just time to submit and realize anything less is settling. Being called to the higher road and I didn't realize it was in education.