Just Rambling

June 2023

This month, we let our writers write about anything that crossed their minds!

Goodbye!

Sarah Miller
MSMU Class of 2026

First off, I just wanted to thank you for reading my articles. I applied for this position on a whim, and in the end, I am very glad I had the opportunity to do so. Mount Saint Mary’s has served me very well, and although I am leaving, I would first like to reminisce on "the good old days."

During my time at the Mount, I have been involved in very few things, but things that have been very impactful in my adult life’s early stages. I came in as an English secondary education major, and took some English classes because they were my strong suit. I enjoyed them and loved my professors, but I did not feel like I was becoming a better student. It may sound very cheesy, but I felt a hole in my education. I found out very quickly that this was not what I was meant to do and not what I was cut out for. Teachers have a hard job, and I was most definitely not made to do what they do. Unfortunately, yet fortunately, I was not passionate about English anymore, and I just thought of it as another skill that I had. So I kept English on the back burner, wrote my article once a month, and kept soul searching.

I conversed with my friends and advisor to try and think about other options in my education, and I went through many phases that surrounded the idea of being a pilot and flying. If you have read previous articles by me in the past, you know that I have my pilot’s license, and it is one of my greatest passions. I found throughout this year of my soul searching, I realized that this is what I wanted to do full-time all along. I was missing it, and I wanted it back.

The end of the fall semester rolled around this year, and I researched my options. When I initially applied to college, I fully committed to Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University in Daytona Beach, Florida. It is practically the star school for aviation and the school that is the most renowned in the field. I was not very keen on moving all of the way to Daytona, as I have never really moved around that much in my life. Besides, living in York, Pennsylvania, I am not very much a part of the hyped-up Daytona Beach culture. I am not a partier, I am not a hot-weather gal. One would say I am quite the opposite of Florida, and I was very anxious about the move. I thought that I would get over this fear of moving from my hometown, my family, and everything that is familiar to me. Nevertheless, it was $500 in college deposits later, and I found myself astronomically scared to go to Embry-Riddle, so I changed my mind and chose the Mount instead, which was a very great decision that I made, although a financially taxing decision. So, after me not waiting to go far for school, I realized that my options were limited for flight school. Living in Central, PA makes my options very minimal, because there are not many flight schools around that weren’t crazy expensive.

Throughout my search, though, I found a small college in Lancaster named Eastern Mennonite University, where I am going to go for the next four years to get my bachelor’s in leadership and organizational management with an aviation concentration. With this degree, I will have the availability to get a job in the business field, or a job within the aviation realm. In the aviation industry, this is a stellar degree to get because, with my prospective job with being in the airlines, they like to know that you are a safe pilot, that you are organized, and can manage the cockpit efficiently.

At Eastern Mennonite University, my days will be different than one’s average day at the Mount, since I will not be a regular college student. The school is actually a school where I would be commuting, and I would also only have class one day a week. This class day makes me have availability open for my days where I have to fly, because flying is required three days separate from your class day. Since I have not flown consistently in about two years, my workload will be about double than the average student. This is because at this point in my training, I am not sure where I am rusty and where I am proficient, so finding that happy medium where I am able to safely re-enter the field will be a little more complicated because of the sheer amount of information that is thrown at you in the private pilot course.

It will be a stressful time for me, but I couldn’t be more thankful that I found where my heart truly lies. I needed much guidance in my college decision path and I finally feel comfortable where I am at, and I would like to thank you, who is reading this, because you were one of my motivators in this strenuous process; to you, I thank you.

So, I would like to tell my fellow college kids out there reading this, or parents/friends of them, to really support your children in their endeavors, even if it may seem like something which is foreign to you. Don’t ever be afraid to try and deviate from the norm of everyday life. If you miss it, do it again. I hope that my story has made you really think about that thing that you were itching to do or start; I challenge you to do it. Life is short, so do what you love; for me, what I love means changing my future and hopping on a plane. The sky is literally your limit, and you should explore it.

Best of luck, and I hope for you to read from me again soon.

Read other articles by Sarah Miller

Libraries

Joey Carlson
MSMU Class of 2025

It was just before my last week of school at about midnight, and I found myself laying on the floor of the library in between bookcases. The day had probably been the worst day of the semester, but at the end of it all, I still had pages to write, some inhumane amount. I realized, looking up at all the books, that the world of academia was large, and I realized too, that, for the most part, these books would help very few people even though they were the product of so much sweat and heartache. If I desired to continue on, I would become like the hoards of academics who waste their work on issues unrelated to their first loves, subjects in their discipline so far removed from the soul of their discipline that they become unintelligible to themselves.

I go back and forth on this; right now, I am not in a library surrounded by foreign books, but in my personal library, the fledgling efforts of my mind to grow up, surrounded by many books which I love and have begun to understand. Some of these books sit simply as an inheritance of some kind, and they attest at the very least to the kindness of loved ones and mentors who tried their best to treat my young mind. In the beginning, this was all I had in my library.

Some of these books are the product of my avarice, because before college, I imagined all books to be good, books one has read to be better, and I had very few other categories. So, I collected them at the expense of quality; I have since realized that the mark of a good library is simply quality. If a person’s library consisted of a single bookcase, but every book in this one bookcase was a true and holy classic (in the least restrictive sense), such a person could be very healthy and happy.

Of these precipitating categories I have begun to separate the wheat from the chaff, and there in fact was far more chaff than wheat.

My library has more books that I have not read than I have. For a young mind, this is crucial; so long as one avoids the chaff, he can gain a great deal from looking at unread books. They remind him that he is in fact small, and that the body of human knowledge is very large, that far larger than this is reality, and that God stands separate from it all as indiscernibly great and magnificent. The young mind will kill itself intellectually with egoism if it does not know that it is small. When a man grows old, there is less time left to learn, and ideally, time has already proven to him over and over again that he is small; so there may be a decreased need to own unread books (though this last point may be false, since all minds need to learn, the old as well as the young).

Few books sit as trophies which I have defeated; for the mind is a difficult thing, and a good book defeated however many years ago stands novel once again in the present. The books I have defeated are almost always truly adversaries, and they are so because they are the least useful, and are the least deserving of further reading.

Some books are not classics but are dear to me anyways, sometimes for no good reason; as a brief example, I have a book by a certain E.O. Wilson, which I read early in high school, knowing nothing of the author (I now know enough about him to know that I disagree with him over vast areas of knowledge, above all on the metaphysical level), which captivated my young mind in a very innocent way. Many who know much about the diabolical nature of some authors might be tempted to withhold such books from young people, and frankly I find this argument appealing; but a young person truthfully is not easily lured into materialism when he trusts a holy alternative. I now know that I read so many books in public school whose whole purpose for existing was malevolent, and I, as a young Christian, not understanding the cosmic metaphysical battles waging around me, took from them what was true, and simply set the rest aside. E.O. Wilson’s book is not worth reading in the slightest, for it contains false ideas, and even the science is outdated, but it contained information I might have found elsewhere that was so interesting, and such things were enough for me. The mind craves truth, and it will take it from whatever body it can, whether it happens upon a little pond or a great ocean. We are made for this ocean, certainly, and the ponds would dry up without it, but the ponds are still good all the same. The truth can never really be integrated with lies; it always stands separate, and young people will easily ignore the lies without even giving them a second thought, unless they have been otherwise taught to believe them.

Last of all, there are those books which, in a strange sense, share a part of my soul. These may be old or young; they are always old and young to me. Whether I am currently reading them or not, they sit most adjacent to my bed and to my desk, as a reminder of who I am. You will inevitably become like the books that you read (this is in fact the argument against my words about E.O Wilson), and you should always keep your dearest books close enough to affect you deeply, but far enough away to really have something new and separate to offer you.

This little library offers something of an answer to my questions about the purpose of academia. In the same way that a single, good conversation with a single, good person is imminently useful, so authoring a single, good book, even if it were read by a single person, would in fact be useful. What that says about the expansive academic shelves, I do not know; it does, however, tell me that there is room for a small author in such a large world.

Read other articles by Joseph Carlson

Choosing your difficulty

Claire Doll
MSMU Class of 2024

Junior year is always the hardest. Of high school, of college. You’re one step closer to the next phase of life, and everyone’s always asking: "So what are you doing after college? How do you feel with one year left?"

When I reflect on the 2022-2023 school year, I think back to where I was in August, moving into my first college apartment. I think about the friends I had then, and the friends I have now. I think about the personal and social changes as well as the academic ones. I think about the early mornings that gave way to late nights with a whole bunch of blurriness and exhaustion in between.

This year, I began my first student teaching internship at a high school just down Route 15. I expected to fall in love with it, as one does with any new journey. "Teaching is a fulfilling passion," they say, but they also say, "You’ll never get paid enough, it’s extremely hard." I think both sides are right. While I would struggle to wake up every Tuesday and Thursday morning at 5:30 to teach (unpaid, of course), I would also find great joy in being called "Ms. Doll" and interacting with such joyful, hilarious teenagers. There were some great days, like when I taught the lesson about blackout poetry and when I received positive observations from my supervisor; and there were some not-so-great days, where I would drive home crying simply because it was hard. Student teaching is hard.

But that wasn’t all. This year, while also beginning my career, I worked as Editor-in-Chief of the Mount’s literary magazine, Lighted Corners. Over the course of nine months, I built a team of excited staff members, organized and reviewed submissions, led meetings, edited like crazy, and designed an entire layout. Even with the help of my staff, the project still seemed impossible. That was hard, too. I’m entirely proud of the creation and happy to see it in print, but it was a challenge.

And then add the classes. Three English classes that, at the end of the teaching day, I had to do homework for and read chapters and write papers that I would not do so well at. It was discouraging. All of it was.

You might be thinking: This is a super negative article. What has gotten into you?

And you may be right. I’m complaining. Junior year was hard, and I have since been spending my days reading in bed because of the sheer exhaustion, and don’t even get me started on my second teaching internship in the fall, and—

Life is hard. Everything about it is hard. I think that’s what I learned in my junior year of college.

But I also believe that life is choosing which difficulty you want to endure. While it is hard to student teach, it is also hard to sit around all day and do nothing. It is hard to not have passion. I can’t imagine a life without passion—without waking up in the morning and pursuing something you love.

In my junior year of college, I found my passions. I can honestly say that I love standing up in front of a class full of students and teaching them about my favorite things: poetry, grammar, reading novels. I love designing lessons and doing not-so-well and receiving feedback and doing it all over again in a better, more creative way.

I also love writing and giving others the opportunity to write. I love mornings and nights spent curled in bed, journaling or editing a poem or simply reading. I love publishing literary magazines and being published in literary magazines and seeing others see their work in print for the first time.

I love spending time outside and prioritizing my mental health. I struggled with anxiety this year, but I soon learned that to live, you must accept everything—the good, the bad, the beautiful, the mediocre. Life is not the highlight reels on Instagram, but rather the little moments that hide in our days.

And I love my people. My family, my friends, the people who helped me through terrible times, who gave me flowers on my first day of student teaching and wrote me notes every single Tuesday and Thursday for my "school lunch."

Without the difficult, I wouldn’t experience the beautiful. And I know this is cliché, and everyone says this, but it’s true. An easy life is one void of meaning.

My advice for incoming juniors is to savor the challenging moments, because you see immense growth in this. You will lose friends and gain friends and make great strides in your career and also fail, a lot. This semester, I’m losing my 4.0 GPA. And I also realized that it doesn’t matter, because grades do not determine or create experiences. This was a tough pill to swallow for me. I have spent my entire school career working terribly just to see A’s lined up on my report card, and let me give you a tip: it’s not worth it. Life is better.

You are entering the back half of your time at college. Although you may think this means you’re only halfway there, you’re really not, because the time flies. Pursue your passions—wake up every single morning with something to care about, someone to have your back through the challenges. That is what carries you through life—grades sadly don’t.

As for me, I look forward to my senior year of college. I hope to find even more beauty in the hardships of my teaching journey, and I hope to paint my final semesters with colorful experiences and meaningful people. At the end of the day, and in sixty-something years, we are not going to remember how hard life was. I doubt anyone ever thinks that at the end of something. You remember the good—you always do. You remember the people that loved you, the passions you cared about, the little moments that made you smile at the end of the day.

So choose which difficulty you will endure and live.

Read other articles by Claire Doll

Leisure is fundamental for those who work

McKenna Snow
MSMU Class of 2023

This semester, I think more than any other, I learned the importance of leisure. Overall, I don’t think our culture really knows how to rest. But, I think our culture is aware of this, and we are beginning to gravitate towards solutions. I think this interest in true leisure, at least for my generation, is reflected in various trends I’ve seen on social media: the slow-living trends, thrifting to combat fast-fashion, and tons of baking and DIY trends.

But I think we still don’t truly know how to rest yet, because even though we are leaning towards these good things, we fall too far in the opposite direction of the workaholic world, and land somewhere in a field of idleness and laziness. This is evident from the self-deprecating jokes about how we scroll on Instagram and Tik Tok for hours, accomplishing nothing, how we reward ourselves with snacks after writing the title of our essay that hasn’t been started beyond that, and how we can nap at any given hour of the day because we never get adequate or consistent sleep.

Real rest is crucial. Not fake rest. Not scrolling for hours. Not napping, most of the time. Even that doesn’t count. In my last semester at college, it became clear to me that real rest is a fruit from a well-balanced and well-ordered life, not a haphazard attempt to ignore my work when I absolutely could not afford it. I had to make resting as much of a priority as making time to get my work done. Thus, not letting my work rule my life made me more free to put it down when a friend wanted to hang out, go for a coffee run, or go for a walk. It made me more free to be with the person in front of me, so I wasn’t always in a rush to get to the next assignment or thing. I took things one day at a time, and enjoyed and loved that day for what it was. Some days, that meant more work than others.

And some days, that meant more "wasted time" just listening to my friends who were having a hard time, or getting to know my freshmen residents who I was the RA for. But it was never really wasted time. These people were the most important part of my day, and because I was willing to participate in leisure, I was free to love them to the best of my small ability. I got to know so many amazing people because of this. I didn’t want to brush people off because I had so much work to do, since there never was a day I didn’t have work. But I was free to occasionally put it on the back burner of my life’s stove on a low simmer, making the home of my day smell quite good because the work was now infused with a true sense of where it sat on my list of priorities. People, friends, God came first.

On days when I was extra busy or had more work than normal coming up, I tried to make time to pray even more, because it was only through grace that I was able to get it all done. I would pray for the grace to be a good student, and go from there. I knew God would carry me through my studies and the many essays I had to write. And I knew that if I was generous in giving my time to the moment or person who God put in my path, He would be generous in return with the graces to help me catch up on all that work I let simmer.

Ultimately, it was God Who taught me true leisure. He showed me that it consists in many things, such as resting with Him in prayer; going to Mass daily became one of my breaks from all the work. Hiking up to the grotto in between classes was tiring physically, but spiritually it was refreshing and uplifting. Participating in the Praise and Worship Holy Hour in the evening on Wednesdays—my busiest day of the week—was also a place of great rest and joy. Wednesdays started early and there were virtually no free hours of the day by virtue of where all of my weekly meetings ended up, but I still chose to go to the Holy Hour at the end of it to replenish my soul.

And I found that true leisure also consisted in prioritizing favorite hobbies of mine such as horse riding. Through a wonderful story for another time, I was able to take horse riding lessons with Mike this semester, and it was a wonderful break from the constant classwork and Mount responsibilities I had. I was free to delight in the task at hand—trotting the wonderful thoroughbred horse Wesley around a gravel arena—and to leave my homework simmering again. I’d come back to it later, ready to pick it back up with, hopefully, as much enthusiasm as I brought to my leisurely activities.

I learned this semester that it is crucial to put time into taking breaks; and that, taking breaks actually still looks like participating in activities. True leisure is not idleness, but a partaking in the creative gifts that God has given me. He has given me the capacity to delight in the many wonderful things in life, and so I choose to do so. I choose to delight in attending Mass, in playing guitar, in going for walks, and in riding horses. I choose to delight in putting my work down to get coffee with a friend, and to hear the story of the person in front of me. This is where true rest is found, and it is where I am filled up, so that I may more fully give to those around me, and to the work that is always at hand. The truth is, there will always be work at hand; the secret is that sometimes, the work can—and should—wait. Delight in the world and people around you, and do creative things. Let the aroma of healthy work-life balance simmer, and the home of your life will smell all the better for it.

Read other articles by McKenna Snow

Read Past Editions of Four Years at the Mount