Uphill Both Ways

This past Monday I was brushing my teeth, when whoosh in a split second my life changed. Well, at least the life of my teeth did. My retainer slipped from my hands and vanished down the drain. Now maybe you will say that I could have gotten it back--possibly (I dunno, that drain is pretty long and deep) but even so the question remains: would I really want it back? It takes only one glance down that pipe to come up with a resounding No!
So I did what any normal person would do under the circumstances: I ran up and down the hallway screaming. Oh, wait, that's what I do when I see a bug--nevermind. What I actually did was call home. Which lead to the clarification of several facts:
1) My orthodontist no longer recognizes me as a patient
2) My parents are not thrilled at the prospect of driving up to get me & dragging me back to St. Louis for an expensive orthodontics appointment.
3) My teeth are impatient critters

All of which lead to one conclusion: I was on my own.

So, at the advice of my wise mentor (my mother), I pulled out the not-so-trusty phonebook and started my Quest for the Land of Orthodontia. Several ancient scrolls (mapquest) and magical seances (conducted via telephone) revealed that my quest would be most successful if I went to the laboratory of Doctor Jaynes, as it was the only portal to the Land of Orthodontia that my trusty tennis shoes could withstand (not to mention my not-so-magical wallet).

Early last Thor's day I set out in such timely manner so as not to be late to the conference of social wizards, aka sociology class. I followed the very bumpy and dangerous beige concrete path, dodging smoke-breathing dragons (cars) and evil wraiths (bikes). Frequent consultations with my wise but fragile map and use of my quick senses brought me to the portal with plenty of time to cross the threshold before the gates closed. I descended the stone steps, maneuvered through the labyrinth, and opened The Door. Here my bravery was tested: my senses were assaulted with the all too familiar sounds and smells of that infamous and torturous Chamber of the Braces. Pulling out my secret weapon, the reliable Crossword Puzzle, I controlled my cowardly impulses to flee and stood (well, sat) firm. There is no need to go into the daring feats I accomplished in the next half hour (mostly because there weren't any), but I emerged triumphant, having received the correct instructions of when to return next week after giving the guard a suitable bribe.
Wait--did I say return? That's not fair--no of the ancient heroes had to descend to Hades more than once! Dang! Maybe I should invest in a flying carpet. . .

I Really Hate People Who Pull Fire Alarms

Okay, so apparently two times in one day wasn't enough. You'd think they'd ticked everyone off enough, but nooooooo, some idiot has to pull the fire alarm at 11p.m. Which makes that the THIRD TIME in one day. So we all flee down the icky back stairs, past the dumpster (eeww) and around the building, much more terrified of hearing loss than any possibility of fire. Again.

The person (or persons) unknown who are committing this horrible crime had better stay unknown, because they entire building is practically out for their blood. As we were stuck outside for an hour this time (they had to call in the fire marshall, supposedly) many schemes and tortures were devised for this evil prankster. Let's just say we have a fabulously healthy (and gruesome) imagination.

Other interesting things this "opportunity" to learn about our community provided:

I am seriously sorry for the poor guy who is on crutches and lives--get this-- on the 7th floor. (wince)

Some guy came out wearing only a "man thong;" thankfully someone lent him a shirt before I (at least) saw anything.

The P.A.s stay across the street, conferring with the fire department, etc., then use a bullhorn to convey information to us (we're across the street). This system does not work. Unlike the fire alarms, their voices cannot penetrated the mass of noise coming from several hundred loud, rowdy, upset, and talkative college students.

It was generally agreed that the alarm would go off sometime around 3a.m. I found it hard to go to sleep, any noise would make me tense up and get ready to spring out of bed. Thankfully it did not go off in the middle of the night, but regardless I did not sleep so well. This is making me very jumpy. sigh. . .

I Hate People Who Pull Fire Alarms

Just what I needed to make this day better. Someone pulled the fire alarm not once, but TWICE today. Did you know that one can actually go to prison for that? It has some serious consequences, not that that seems to stop whoever has been pulling it. It is such a pain! I'm really glad that firefighters respond and don't give up when people cry wolf, cuz otherwise our dorm would be in trouble when/if we really do have a fire.

After I wrote that post about my soc paper this morning, I hurried off to class, which is located in the far-off building of Middlebush. Onnly to be met with a surprise: the classroom was dark and a sign was taped to the door:

Prof.---- has be recalled to his home planet of Xqayn. He will be gone for an unspecified period of time. Please forgive the inconvinance.
Signed,
Cznujs, Minister of Forgien Affairs

(I guess I should have mentioned that serveral people in my class came up with--seperately--the idea that our professor is " a skin-stealing alien")

Okay, so what the sign really said was that class was cancelled. Any other day we might have relished this bit of news, but remember: we had just stayed up the night before writing the blasted thing. Let's just say we weren't very pleased. So off we traipse to another building to discover whether the lecture immediantly following discussion is cancelled as well. There's no note, so we all drag back out there at 10. Well, when we are all shifting in our seats, the T.A.s wander up to the front looking nervous and slightly confused. Here's what they said and how we translated it.

Professor --- said he couldn't make it today [ *^#$@#!@!!]
He's sick-- [sure he is--his skinsuit probably fell apart and he's got to do some blood ritual to get a new one]
Umm, you can turn you papers in and we'll grade them [(sarcastically) oh, so that's how he gets out of doing the work]

Let's just say we weren't in the most sympathetic mood.

I Hate Papers

The title pretty much sums it up. I've got to run to Sociology class in a minute; yesterday I had to write all of a ten page paper for this *lovely* class. Which, as it turns out, is not ten pages, only eight, and I have no clue what I said (other than a jumble of meaningless quotes and random sentences). I do remember that I compare cell phones to squirrels on the first page, but after that. . .

sigh. Isn't college fabulous.

The End of the Season

Well, believe it or not, our softball team made the playoffs-- with a record of one loss. That's one loss out of a total of one game. LOL. That's got to be some kind of record. Other teams forfeited to us twice, and we forfeited once, which ended up making our record 2-2.
This afternoon was our playoff game. Unfortunately, we had to forfeit because not enough of our team showed up. :( It was disappointing. We played a game with the other team (borrowing some of their players) just for fun, though. I enjoyed it cuz it wasn't too hot and the field was in the shade. Such is the end of the saga of my first--and most likely only--softball season.

Knit, Stitch, Engauge!

On Wednesday night I joined a group of knitters in our lounge who are going to meet there every Wednesday. I was the rogue cross-stitcher, since I didn't have knitting stuff with me. It was a lot of fun; there were maybe seven other girls and two guys, many of whom did not know how to knit. Like I said, it was funny. Now I'm in full-throttle knitting obsession mode; anybody who knows what I'm like when I'm on the craft-hunt will roll their eyes and sigh as I go barreling past.heeheehee
Oh yeah, the name of our group is "knit,stitch,engauge" (yes, it's supposed to be spelled like that). We almost named ourselves "knit-xhibit" (pronounced like "knit-zibbet," however you want to spell it). Here's why: about an hour into our little circle, some other students stuck their heads in to say hi. "Look how cute they are" one girl said to the other, and they left. Carrie, the girl sitting next to me, raised her eyebrows and remarked, "I feel like I'm in the zoo or something, on display." Someone else picked this up and joked that the glass wall towards the hall makes us an exhibit. Hence, knitzibbit.

Eww, on a nasty note: A girl across the hall was standing outside her room, and having some sort of problem. I heard the word "rat" so I stopped to see what was going on. No, there are not wild rodents in our building (that I know of). Her roommate just left for the weekend, and about an hour later this girl realized that one of her roommates' mice was rather still. Further investigation proved that it was not, in fact, sleeping; it was dead. My first reaction: a fervent prayer of thankfulness that my roommate doesn't keep gross critters in our room. My second thought, get out of there before I see anything icky. Happily some other girl was taking it out to the trash, so I escaped to my room to write a paper (and avoid the paper by writing this blog). I'm so brave, aren't I?

On Mail Searches and Fire Alarms

I *finally* received a package I've been waiting for from eBay (14 old Georgette Heyer paperbacks). I was so excited! Well, I pick up my package, and noticed that it has stamped on it in red ink something along the lines of "Inspected by the USPS" and "Media Mail: Inspected and Resealed." "What?" I think to myself: doesn't the post office trust me? Obviously not. Inside the package there is a printed note: "Media mail is only for items. . .blah blah blah. . .acceptable items are. . .blah blah blah" And so on for three paragraphs. At the bottom is a check mark in the box that says "Your items are acceptable." How kind of you to notice, I think sarcastically. Besides, what can I do about it if they aren't? I'm not the one who sent the package. Somehow this system seems messed up. Still, I have my books, and a whole lot of post office tape in my trashcan, so I guess I'm happy.

I know that fire alarms are good things, but it seems to me that a better system should be established, at least for college dorms. This past Saturday, at 10:05 or thereabouts, I hear a distant fire alarm. Unfortunately, it does not stay distant. It is soon joined by all its brother- and sister-alarms, including the one in my room. My roommate, who was still asleep, sits bolt upright in bed. "The fire alarm's going off." I say. She looks at me with an expression that clearly says "You don't say. I wouldn't have noticed." So we traipse down the five flights of the icky back stairs, and proceed around the building to the designated stop in front. Most of us probably wouldn't have bothered, except that we had no wish to go deaf. Hearing loss is certainly an often ignored side effect in such cases, but I digress. I had only woken up about ten minutes before, but I was very glad that I was up and dressed (a lot of people were in bathrobes). Some people were in the shower; several guys came out in their towels. (The girls who were in the showers went to their rooms and got dressed first). A fire truck came, and we were forced to wait out side for an additional twenty minutes. Of course it was a false alarm. Less that two months of college, and already I look on fire alarms with disgust. I can't image what my reaction will be in four years. Maybe super-strong earplugs.

Apples to Apples to Cookies

Last night I went to a party that one of the RUF interns, Gail, was throwing for us girls. It was a lot of fun. We baked cookies (well, some of us just ate them) and played Apples to Apples for 2 1/2 hours strait. Katie, one of my RUF friends, was going on very little sleep and was quite slaphappy (in the words of another friend, "intoxi-katie"). At one point she screamed, gasped, and then doubled over laughing. We were eating chocolate chips, and she had picked up what she thought was a piece of chocolate off of her jeans; only to find it was a bug. We all just about lost it; we jumped when she screamed, then couldn't stop laughing at her reaction. It was my first time playing Apples to Apples, for those of you have, do you every play that whatever cards you win show your personality? We had a lot of laughs at the end reading them out loud. Mine were: scary, spooky, nasty, important, brilliant, and calm. LOL

LOST in the Rain. . .

I just got back from an extra-credit lecture about " Medical Case Studies in Ancient China, Greece, and Egypt" a subject to which I owe no particular affection. I ran all the way back to my dorm, hoping to find a TV to watch "LOST" on, but the common rooms were in use, and well, it was already 10 minutes into the show and I figured I should resign. Sigh. . .I miss my TV!

It rained here today. I walked back from class, proud that I had remembered my umbrella. I was busy trying not to get swept away by the riverwalk (known as a "sidewalk" on drier days), and feeling rather good that I remained mostly dry. Until the car zoomed past. In less than a second I was completely soaked. I can now sympathize with Doris Day, and I would have SMACKED Cary Grant (what movie is that, by the way?).

Now I have to choose between writing a five page paper and reading a fiction book. . .or convincing the computer that my sociology paper really does talk about crime and motivational theories. Have you ever tried arguing with a computer grading system?

Humility: Continued

I've noticed that when embarrassing things happen to me on Monday, it takes me until Thursday to actually write them up. Anyway,

[reporter] It's time for the Weekly Update on "How College is Lowering Lee Anne's Self-Esteem."
Hello, Ms. Litzsinger, please tell our audience today on what new developments have put you in your place this week.

[me] I got an F on my first English paper.

[reporter] (GASP) Any how did that happen?

[me] Well, I'm still not entirely sure. I guess my paper's organization was poor.

[reporter] And how do you feel about receiving an F?

[me] Pretty bad, but fairly resigned. I'm torn between trying to do everything else in the class perfectly, and realizing that my grade for the year is already completely shot and giving up. Right now lethargy is winning.

[reporter] I can't help but notice that the last two weeks have brought major blows to your pride: any clue what's next?

[me] Please, don't even say that! I've already completely failed softball and english: do I really need more embarrassing moments?

[reporter] And on that note, we turn to tomorrow's weather forecast. . .

Softball and Humility

I heard so much about how you can "make yourself into whoever you want" at college, to "try new things" and "expand your horizons," and similar pieces of advice. Well, after arriving I figured out very quickly that I was not going to be part of the cool/popular/partying crowd (really, I'm so much happier just reading in my room) and that I needed to do something different so that I wouldn't turn into a hermit. So, when at RUF they announced that they were putting together some sports teams, including a girl's softball team, I decided to go out on a limb and join. Now, that phrase "go out on a limb" really ought to be more specific, saying how sturdy the limb should be and warning about twigs that look like limbs. But I digress. When I told my family that I had joined a softball team, their reactions were complete and utter shock. You think that that would have warned me, but I like nothing better than proving people wrong. That's me: The-Freshman-Who-Can-Take-On-The-World. Hah!
Perhaps you, like my family, know that I have never played a day of organized sports in my life. Heck, make that a day of ANY sport. Are you getting the picture here?
I went home, convinced my parents to buy me a glove, and practiced for ten minutes with my dad. I get back to school only to find out that our "team" only has four players, and that it will probably be cancelled. I was a bit disappointed, but fairly philosophical about it. Fast forward to this past Monday. I roll out of bed, check my e-mail--and freak out. Basically the e-mail says "We have a game today at 4:30." AAAAAAAAAAH! I was kind of hoping for a few practices, some training, NOT getting shoved cold into the world of softball (Why me, God? Yes, I know I asked for it. . .)
Do I have to say how the game went? Can't you imagine it enough already from what I've told you? Well, if I must sum it up, let me just say that I was catcher but could not throw the ball all the way to the pitcher's mound. It usually got 2/3 of the way, and then bounced the rest of the way, and usually several feet to one side. Did I mention that we had fourteen referees standing around because thee other games were cancelled? Yup, it was torture pure and simple for me; we're taking a humble pie throwing contest. I mean, I know it's good for me to be humbled, but that's getting awfully close to humiliation (oh wait, we passed that turn off along time ago). Anyway, it's Thursday now, and my muscles are still aching and reminding me of my folly. Just think: next Monday I get to go through it all over again. Joy.

Speaker Circle, Hell, and Brother Jed

There is this place here called "speaker circle;" it's a round area on the edge of a sidewalk/plaza area. Anyhow, it's called that because it (purposefully) amplifies sound really well. There's always this guy there "Brother Jed" (or Joe, or something) and his followers, holding signs that say things like "God Hates You" and "You're Going to Hell," at least, those are the repeatable ones. And there he stands, belting out his version of scripture by screaming at passersby about their evil and satanic selves. Oh, and yelling at a couple because they are holding hands, damning them with awful names. I always edge around, feeling slightly embarrassed because even if he is trying to promote the gospel, his method doesn't seem to be very helpful and loving. I kept thinking about what Mr. Baker says, about being winsome to attract people to the gospel. It worried me that such images of Christianity would stick in their heads and make them think ill of Christianity. At least, that's what I thought before I found out what he was really teaching.

First you should know that Brother Jed usually has a pretty large crowd; people seem to think him more entertaining than offensive (except for the Christians, we wince). So there his is, belting out hellfire and damnation. Well, one of my friends, Jason, who is well grounded in the Bible, stopped to listen to him. I think you're already caught the "you're going to hell" mantra, but the rest of his stuff is even scarier. He teaches, basically, a works-based salvation with some waaaay messed up twists. Apparently, once you are "saved" by Brother Jed, you do not sin anymore. Ever. He's been ten years without sin, and his followers share similar stories. If you do sin, well, you weren't saved. Aparently the "saved" have the power to "save" other people, or "to bind their sins to them for all eternity," which one of the followers proceeded to do to a young man that ticked him off, pointing his finger and saying "your sins are bound to you. . ." well, you get the point. Forget Voldemort, these people are much freakier. Don't forget that they are belting this all out REALLY loudly. My friend tried to argue with them from the Bible (which they twist and use), and basically got himself excommunicated.

Hmm, I'm not sure what my point was, other than that it's really sad how many people are getting such twisted messages so blatantly declared as the truth. Oh, and that some people have some powerful self delusion (no sin ever? yeah, talk about denial)

Third Week of College

This weekend I went home for the first time since coming to college. It wasn't weird, everything felt normal, except that I got a lot of attention, a pinata, a dark chocolate milkshake from Steak n Shake, and I didn't have to do any chores. Well, now I'm back to the daily college grind.

Every class has issued serious warnings about plagerism. Except Sociology. Our writing assignment for that practically IS plagiarism. Since we are supposed to summarize some points from the book, and they are graded by a computer program (you see your score right away and can resubmitt it), basically the assignment adds up to "paraphrase in your own words" where the only possible way to get a good grade it to feed it exactly the same terms as the book. Lovely. :P

I'm going to have to actually WORK on my English paper (1250 words about the expressive content of a greek statue), and I can't procrastinate because it has to be peer reviewed at least 24-48 hours before it's due. That's one way to make me get my work done!

I actually ate some salad with my dinner twice (be proud of me, mom!)

I just finished reading Jane Austen's Persuasion; I had had enough of fluffy christian fiction and greek heroes slaughtering each other, and this book was just right.

Second Week of College

Things are running pretty smoothly--ha! I just freaked out cuz our sociology syllabus said we had a paper due tomorrow, and we hadn't heard ANYTHING about it before. It's now worked out; no paper till Tues. Whew!
The library here is huge--and confusing. It was built at different times, so none of the wings line up. The West Wing has six floors, the East Wing four floors, and they aren't even even. The East Wing's elevator is double sided: one side stops at three but the other door can go up to four.
For my English paper, I am supposed to research a particular greek statue, etc, etc. Well, the cast gallery has been closed for the past week due to recarpeting (go figure).
I live in a hall-bath dorm setup. Well, lately my building (and floor actually, according to some news reports) has been having some incidents of, um, a guy coming into the girls bathroom and surprising a girl in the shower. Another hall (apparently) had a more serious sexual assault. Now we have to keep the general door to the bathroom locked at all times (we use our room keys)--when we go in, while we are in there, and when we leave. Makes you feel so safe and comfortable, huh? Plus it's a huge pain.
At least the food here is decent, though I'm missing my Dr. Pepper and Sweet Tea with a vengeance.

First Week of College

Truths learned in my first week of college:

1. Sandals that are okay for waking short distances are not necessarily okay for walking long distances (7+ bandaids on feet).

2.Your class will NEVER be in the building that actually bears its name (English is in Geology, Sociology is in Physics, etc.)

3. Pizza is its own food group; there are more pizza places on campus than there are professors (well, maybe not, but you get my point).

4. Ten minutes is only enough time to get halfway to your next class.

5. Washers are temperamental beasts that do not acknowledge human domination.

6. When you allow the university to plan your schedule, they will end up placing you in a writing intensive course, despite the fact that a) you supposed to have English 1000 as a prerequisite b) as a journalism student you don't actually need a writing intensive course.

7. I am forever doomed to have no classes with multiple choice quizzes.

8. Giving a person like me the ability to swipe my student card and buy whatever I want from the bookstore is not a good idea (heeheehee).

9. Just when being part of a huge university seems completely overwhelming, God will send along a new friend.