The past week or so has brought about some fascinating news. Some funny. Some sad. But memorable nonetheless.
Let's start with:
College, wow, that is really starting to feel like a long time ago. If things had gone according to (my father's) plan, I'd be an engineer right now.
I was well on my way until English 102 and a final thesis paper. I was dreading this project the entire semester but the last week I finally bucked up, did a ton of research, a few all nighters, and crafted a pretty solid paper. I didn't really have to go to such effort, but somewhere in the process I started to like it (or I started to like the sweet, luscious drug caffeine.) And the music that accompanied by research and writing? You got it.
People tend to enjoy the things they are good at. [stereotype validation forthcoming] I'm pretty dang good at math. Always has been something I've enjoyed for that very reason. From age 6 my father would say that math was pure. There is one answer. You're either right or wrong. It's binary. While English/Lit was flawed because there was no "right" answer.
However, that vacillation of theories for classic lit, the ambiguity, soon manifested itself as an opportunity to create a new vantage point on something established, but still open to interpretation. It wasn't just about feeding back the correct number or formula to something that was already understood and complete, it entailed deriving new meaning that was anything but binary or absolute. And his music was a constant soundtrack for this revelation of sorts.
So why talk about Joseph Arthur this week?
A friend of mine posted a Joseph Arthur video on her facebook and I left a quick comment about how amazing he is. She then sends me a message about how she grew up with him and they are lifelong friends. She tells me about him dedicating "In the Sun" to her at a concert, to which she, unsurprisingly, wept uncontrollably.
While his music was certainly an inspiration, it wasn't the sole reason that I defected from the mathletes...
(Don't hate. Yes, I was one in high school. And no, I did not show up for the yearbook photo), but in a way his music was one of many invisible hands that brought me to who I am today. I try to make a concerted effort to express my gratitude to the instructors, friends, (wow, forget the letter "r" and friends quickly turns to fiends) and family that have a profound impact on me. And through my friend I was able to send a quick message (after lamenting the fact that I'll never have that music ability to make a woman weep, in a good way) that I truly appreciate his work and I feel another circle has closed.