Weather is never, ever something someone should take for granted. I'm probably not really one to talk, given the fact that I've lived in California my entire life and have never experienced living in terrible weather conditions, but the fact that it's sunshiny almost every day in L.A. will never cease to amaze and delight me.
In short, I'm blaming the weather for the fact that I haven't written the past four days? Five days? Eek. I'm lagging on this. Keep me motivated!
Anyway, it's not that I'm an "active" or "sporty" person, but rather I enjoy letting the sun soak all the way through me. I love it when my hair gets so hot, I can barely touch it without feeling like I just burnt my hand. I love it when I feel like the sun melts my chilly toes. Therefore, I've spent the past few days outside as much as possible, starting with Friday, where I sat reading a book outside for a few hours, then yesterday when I trekked through L.A.'s Runyan Canyon, and then today, walking to and from the library.
It's a cliche, but weather really is a mood lifter. As much as I enjoy the smell of rain, the peaceful soporific sensations one gets when the air is gray and cloudy, and the slower pace of a cold day, I'm more energized by brightness, by activity, and by the sense of movement that one feels on a sunny day. Some days, I just want to suck up the sun's rays through a needle and inject it through my blood stream, so I never feel at a loss for energy.
The only problem with sunshine is that while it initially energizes, it can also burn you out (no pun intended) quickly. For every day I've spent running around outside, I've finished the day completely exhausted, longing to return to bed. Alas, the sun is a merciless force (for better or for worse) and also cuts off my sleep before my body would ideally like, streaming through my windows early in the morning, beckoning me to recycle my energy all over again.
I'm not sure I would like it any other way, though. I appreciate the climate's desire to get me moving, to get me active, and to get me engaged. Otherwise, I know that I'd spend my days holed up in my room with a book, probably pretty content, but not quite as excited, not quite as ready to keep exploring and discovering more.
Again, weather affecting mood is a bit cliche and nothing terribly groundbreaking in my own personal reflection, but sometimes it's exactly what one needs to realize that every day truly is a new day and that minor setbacks can at least be temporarily dissipated with a good shot of fresh air and sunny skies in one's system.
Showing posts with label energy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label energy. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Today I Appreciate Vincent of French Class
Call me "nerd," but the first day of class must be one of the best days of the year. Only syllabi (that is the plural of "syllabus," yes?) are distributed, professors remain energetic about course material, and even the students are not yet burnt out. An exciting world of opportunities are soon to begin! We're anticipating a journey with a group of other engaged minds through literature and life (at least in my case)!
The only major problem with the first day of classes is the ten minutes prior to when class begins when students sit completely in silence. A full classroom with no one talking must be on one of the eeriest places on the entire campus. Inevitably, someone will whisper into a cell phone or tap a pencil against the desk, if only out of habit of - you know - actually communicating, but otherwise nothing. The thing is everyone glances around the room seeking out the incoming professor and waiting for something - anything - as long as it's not him or her, of course to break the quiet.
I typically pride myself in remaining mildly friendly on the first day of class (e.g. "Have you had this professor before?" to the person sitting next to me) because I find the silence especially uncomfortable. This is not to say that I can't stand being alone (I can), but I can't stand a group of people all unable to at least ask a few question and engage in some kind of small talk. Coming from someone like me who loathes large parties with people I don't know and the necessity to comb through niceties for the sake of politeness, this is saying something.
Fortunately, today, there was Vincent of French 1. The amazing thing about the students in French class is they're exactly who you'd expect: slim, well-dressed girls draped in scarves and - well - slim, well-dressed gay men in scarves. This may seem like an intimidating population of artistic souls, but then, amazingly, there's someone like Vincent with dirty sneakers, a zip-up hoodie, and a battered-up backpack. I have a habit of staring at whoever walks into a room and as I gave Vincent a smile as he walked in (so as not to simply stare; that's even worse than not acknowledging someone's presence), he actually said "hello" and smiled back. At a big school like UCLA, a smile is an increasingly rare greeting as if you smile at someone you do not know, the average student will either anticipate you trying to sell him or her something or try to convince him or her to join some sort of student-run nonprofit organization to benefit African children. Social justice on UCLA's campus has, unfortunately, become more of an advertising campaign than an actual attention to social justice, but that's a different story.
Anyway, Vincent and I engaged in a conversation, discovered his brother had a family in my hometown of Folsom ("It's very nice," he said. "Spread-out. Clean enough. Kind of pretty" I told him that was a decent way of describing Folsom were one to omit the stretches of strip mall and suburban sprawl. He didn't disagree, but rather remained silent. Smart move, perhaps). I wouldn't say Vincent (who came from a high school filled with metal detectors) is exactly someone I would typically befriend, but his effort to engage, to actively enjoy conversation with someone he doesn't know, that takes the sort of confidence I always appreciate and that can always improve someone's day.
The only major problem with the first day of classes is the ten minutes prior to when class begins when students sit completely in silence. A full classroom with no one talking must be on one of the eeriest places on the entire campus. Inevitably, someone will whisper into a cell phone or tap a pencil against the desk, if only out of habit of - you know - actually communicating, but otherwise nothing. The thing is everyone glances around the room seeking out the incoming professor and waiting for something - anything - as long as it's not him or her, of course to break the quiet.
I typically pride myself in remaining mildly friendly on the first day of class (e.g. "Have you had this professor before?" to the person sitting next to me) because I find the silence especially uncomfortable. This is not to say that I can't stand being alone (I can), but I can't stand a group of people all unable to at least ask a few question and engage in some kind of small talk. Coming from someone like me who loathes large parties with people I don't know and the necessity to comb through niceties for the sake of politeness, this is saying something.
Fortunately, today, there was Vincent of French 1. The amazing thing about the students in French class is they're exactly who you'd expect: slim, well-dressed girls draped in scarves and - well - slim, well-dressed gay men in scarves. This may seem like an intimidating population of artistic souls, but then, amazingly, there's someone like Vincent with dirty sneakers, a zip-up hoodie, and a battered-up backpack. I have a habit of staring at whoever walks into a room and as I gave Vincent a smile as he walked in (so as not to simply stare; that's even worse than not acknowledging someone's presence), he actually said "hello" and smiled back. At a big school like UCLA, a smile is an increasingly rare greeting as if you smile at someone you do not know, the average student will either anticipate you trying to sell him or her something or try to convince him or her to join some sort of student-run nonprofit organization to benefit African children. Social justice on UCLA's campus has, unfortunately, become more of an advertising campaign than an actual attention to social justice, but that's a different story.
Anyway, Vincent and I engaged in a conversation, discovered his brother had a family in my hometown of Folsom ("It's very nice," he said. "Spread-out. Clean enough. Kind of pretty" I told him that was a decent way of describing Folsom were one to omit the stretches of strip mall and suburban sprawl. He didn't disagree, but rather remained silent. Smart move, perhaps). I wouldn't say Vincent (who came from a high school filled with metal detectors) is exactly someone I would typically befriend, but his effort to engage, to actively enjoy conversation with someone he doesn't know, that takes the sort of confidence I always appreciate and that can always improve someone's day.
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