Last Time for Everything

Well, the next time I decide to have a first day of school, I think I'll remember to provide myself with a little more food.
I've started eating breakfast again. I used to double-fist it for breakfast:
1.) cup of coffee
2.) smoothie in a glass
But without a coffee maker or blender, that method of breakfast has quickly gone out of style. So a bowl of cereal is what I had this morning. No caffeine, which I should train myself off of, anyway. But why didn't I bring more than a bag of carrots with me to my first day of class? And why didn't I double-check to see that I wouldn't be leaving class until 5:30pm?

I think there's something very wise about going to graduate school close to home. Thank God I have a close friend here who provides the "home away from home" comforts. I mean, to give up your snuggly morning routine, cold turkey, because you don't have the necessary kitchen appliances--that requires some emotional support, not to mention some occasional visits for a cup of espresso! And the real reason I ate only carrots today for lunch? No, I'm not on some weird cleansing diet. I realized late last night that besides uncooked pasta, half a tomato, and some cheese, I had nothing to eat besides breakfast cereal and ...carrots. The carrots won as lunch food!

I'm used to being in an apartment where food doesn't run out, but I'm not the one in charge of shopping. Now I'm completely on my own, still unsure of where I should be buying food (without getting mugged), and too tired from adjusting to graduate school to worry about what I'm going to eat for the next two or three meals!

I think I've decided that this will be my last "first day of school." They're definitely not one of my favorite things!

Favorites (in color)

One of my very good friends, Puddles (nickname has been used to protect identity), started giggling merrily when I told her that I liked the next song on the CD.
me: What?
Puddles: Is this one of your "favorites?"
She then proceeded to remind me of several other "favorites" I had informed her of along our exciting roadtrip from West Virginia to Ontario. She even tried to imitate me in a very excited (and I might add, exceedingly high-pitched) tone, "Oooh! That's one of my favorites!"
Puddles: Ya gah a lah a favorites, you know? What's your favorite color? Come on, please just tell me what your favorite color is.
me: Purple.
Puddles: (with a satisfied sigh of nostalgia) Some things never change.

I must confess, I never picked the color purple intentionally. I don't believe in any of that psycho-babble nonsense, either, that it's some sort of temperament indication. It's just the color that, after many previous short-lived preferences of color, I finally settled on.

Upon reflection, I can use this permanent attraction to the hue as a reminder of something higher, something more profound than a physical attribute spanning many forms.

Consider one of the most beautiful relationships in the universe: the union between the Sacred Heart of Our Lord and the Immaculate Heart of His mother. The Divine Word, the Son who created His own mother, then allowed Himself to be hidden under her humble mantle, even inside her womb. Shedding His precious blood for each and every one of His creatures, yet only she could understand--with the love of a mother for her son, and the love of the very First Communicant for her God--the suffering and its saving purpose. What a beautiful meditation.

What a beautiful way to use purple, as a mingling of the sacrificial blood of the Lamb on the cross, and the blue mantle of His loving mother. Because in the midst of His suffering, while redeeming the world from sin, He gives us His mother to be ours as well. And when we look to Our Blessed Mother, she guides our gaze with hers back up to the cross where He demonstrates His infinite love.

It's one of my favorite meditations.