A Brown Study


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I went to the study to study my study guide.  My studied concentration did nothing to clarify the information, and I fell into a brown study as I studied  material that made no sense to me.

So I studied on the idea of a cup of tea and the book I’m reading, and it seemed like a much better idea.


a brown study:  discouragement

A brown study.  What an interesting phrase.  Here’s a little description:

Brown does refer to the colour, but it seems that in the late medieval period it could also mean no more than dark or gloomy and it was then transferred figuratively to the mental state. A study at that time could be a state of reverie or abstraction, a sense of the word that is long since obsolete.

And that’s all I have this morning.


Finishing Well


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


“Could you turn your music down, PLEASE!  I’m trying to study for my finals, and the music is very distracting.”

“Aw, who cares about stupid old finals,” responded Carly, Joanna’s roommate. “I’m sick of studying, and besides, it’s a gorgeous day. You should get out of your books in into the fresh air.  C’mon, walk with me!”


Joanna shook her head as she gathered up her books, notebooks, and computer. “No, thanks. I can’t. These finals matter. They’re my ticket into law school. You’re so smart, Carly. You should be studying too, if you want to keep that funding for your master’s degree.  I’ll see you later.”

Joanna did, indeed, see Carly later. . . much later. They lost touch after graduation as Joanna headed to law school and Carly headed into a serious relationship with the latest boyfriend—who turned out to be a loser.

Joanna had been practicing family law for three years, and she loved it.  She didn’t love the divorces that were part of her case load, but she loved being a part of the system that brought families back together. Sometimes, even the divorces were worth the battle. When someone was experiencing violence at the hands of a spouse, and there was no remorse on the part of the batterer, then separation or divorce was the best remedy.

She sat at her desk one morning, glancing over a new file. The woman wanted a divorce, Domestic abuse, drunken spouse, two children. The woman’s name was Carly, and of course Joanna wondered.

When her secretary opened the door and introduced the new client, Joanna got up from her desk and enveloped her old roommate in a lingering hug.

“I’m glad you studied for your finals,” whispered Carly.