BitterSweetLife

Once Again, BitterSweetness Asserts Itself

I admit it and I’m sorry.

I haven’t been blogging any too faithfully this week, but I’ve had my reasons, the main one being my first graduate-level paper. Last week I regaled you with a photo-documentary of my first graduate-level exam. That’s old hat now.

Comparatively, The Paper has been a harsh taskmaster, jealous of my time and energy, keeping me up late, devouring my discretionary hours, draining away my creativity, turning me into an abject slave. (In other words, it’s harder.)

And sadly, paper-writing doesn’t have the same potential for dramatic exploitation that an exam does. (“Contemplative, I sit at my desk. Upbeat music is playing in the background, but with no apparent effect. The computer screen flickers momentarily, then a screensaver comes on…”) But whatever its effects on my blogging habit, this academic rigor has given me more to think about.

Studying has raised my awareness of BitterSweetness to a new level recently. Actually, the process took place in a way that many of us have experienced. It happens like this:

1) You find a subject, topic, pastime that you like.
2) You take a closer look at it.
3) You sadly realize that it will take several lifetimes to master.

Tolkien’s Trilogy makes a convenient illustration. Let’s say you led an extremely sheltered life, away from the heady delights of great literature. Nonetheless, you walked into a theatre one night and encountered The Fellowship of the Ring. Intrigued, you embarked on a great literary journey, and bought the book.

Completing the initial volume compelled you to drive wildly to Border’s and buy the next two (impulsively, and at exorbitant prices because you couldn’t wait to have them shipped to you). Now you’ve completed the trilogy, watched all the movies several times, extended editions included (except the DVD finale, coming soon) and have begun eyeing The Silmarillion.

But at some point in this adventure, you have realized something unnerving. There is another Tolkien set, a ten-volume work, compiled by his nephew Chris, elaborating on everything you’ve encountered so far. Not to mention that it would be nice to learn Elvish.

With superhuman acumen, you master Elvish over a couple weekends and read Christopher Tolkien’s exhaustive editions over your fall break. Then you discover that Tolkien based much of his philological study and epic writing style on Scandinavian legends (Beowulf) and dialects…

You get the picture. There’s a similar cycle at work when I play basketball, and realize, I could spend hours and hours—my life!—on this, and still find new juke moves I’d want to add to my repertoire. Playing pickup once a week just isn’t cutting it.

Apply this sequence to pastime x, hobby y, fascination z, and a pattern emerges. It’s an elemental problem of life. So many loves, so little time. I want to explore, I want to learn, I want to enjoy and master...instead I get up, go to work, and try to content myself in window-shopping, skimming surfaces. But it's not enough!

Bittersweet? Indeed. Somehow, I suspect heaven will address this problem.