Aquí, Allí, Allá

Less than 24 hours until spring break starts!!!! Oh, I am so counting the hours. (Except that I dislike doing an unnecessary math. So I'm not really counting). I still have to finish writing a ten page paper, go to RUF, study for an exam, and write another lab report so I don't have to do it over spring break. Not to mention finishing over a hundred pages in a fiction book that I want to give back to someone before break and packing. As usual, it's the lab report that has me the most freaked out. I know they're not always as bad as my mind makes them out to be, and that it's "making a mountain out of a molehill." Only maybe change "molehill" to "extremely large badger hill" and that might be more accurate. Better yet, make that "bear cave." Oh look, we're back at mountain. Other random things that happened this week:

~I filled out a student survey, and one of the questions asked "how many books have you read for personal enjoyment this schoolyear?" The choices were something like 0-5, 6-10, 11-15, 15-20, 20+. "20+" is the highest choice they're gonna give me? Come on! That is not an adequate measurement of my reading interests.

~Today in science (yes, another lovely evolution lecture), the professor (this is my favorite professor of the four that teach this class) briefly mentioned that many evolutionists are divided into the gradualist and punctuated equilibrium camps. He said that the gradualists like to explain punctuated equilibrium as "evolution by jerks." It took me a minute, but I got it! LOL, that's awesome.

~At Bible study last night we shared prayer requests, and I realized again how thankful I am for my roommate. I have never been "sexiled" as one girl put it, and I don't think I would take it very well either. Sometimes college kids amaze me. (Did you know that like 78% have more than 5 drinks a day over spring break? I can't remember the exact statistic, but it's something like that. Crazy.)

Kindergarten Fan Girls. Oh boy.

As I've hopefully mentioned before, this semester our Sunday school theme is Little Pilgrim's Progress (it has a readers' theater setup like Narnia last semester). This past Sunday, one of our activities was splitting the kids into groups and having them dictate a letter of encouragement to someone who helps out at the church. After giving some suggestions, the four little girls in my group decided to write their letter/poster to the guy who plays Christian in our reader's theater. (On a side note, he played Edmund last semester, and try as I will that is how I will always think of him). The letter was your basic "Thank you for helping with the plays. You are a good friend" etc. I then turned it over to the girls to sign their name and decorate.

This is when it gets a little crazy. The again, anytime you have four little giggling kindergarten girls coloring on the same piece of paper, things are kind of bound to get crazy. They wrote "love" before their names, and obviously thought they were being scandalous. One even started to write "kiss", but she got as far as the "K" before I raised by eyebrows and the girl next to her turned it into a heart. Things continued in this vein for a minute or so: they drew hearts figures "kissing" (remember: this are kindergarten stick figures, so it's not as horrible as it sounds). I was mostly amused, I mean *really* the guy who plays Christian is a really cool dad, and for all their attempt to be bold it just looked like a cute little kid's thank you note. I had just told them to finish up, and started counting to five, when one of the girls wrote "you are hot." Okay, that was beyond enough. I grabbed the paper, wishing I had interfered about ten seconds sooner. They, of course, moved from giggling to rolling around laughing. Oh dear.

But while they had snacks I went ahead and finished writing the "Dear Chad' and the top, and went and gave it to him. I have to admit I was slightly embarrassed; after all, I was the "teacher." He, of course, thought it was really sweet. Then again, I left before he could read all of it. I marched back into the classroom and leaned conspiratorially over the girls' desks. "Hey," I said. "I just gave him the card." Complete and utter shock filled their eyes. Even though I had told them we were really giving people these cards, I don't think they believed me (grin of smug satisfaction). The looks on their faces were priceless. But it gets even better: a minute later Chad comes into the room and says "Hey, thanks for the card." He said it to the class in general (it's not like he knows them by name, and there were 25 kids there), but all four girls turn bright red and start giggling again (this time it was a bit nervous, though). LOL. I was torn between laughter at the whole situation and the shade of red I was pretty sure my face was turning as well. Hopefully they learned a lesson.
(I can just see them in ten years, drooling over Orlando Bloom. Then again, at their precocious rate, maybe that will be next month. What is the world coming to?)

Double Trouble

Well, for those of you who don't know, I've decided that going to one of the best journalism schools in the country isn't enough writing for me, oh no! I have to go off and add a second major in English (with an emphasis in creative writing) too. :P I never did learn when to quit. How did this come about, you might ask. Well, maybe you didn't ask, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

I think it started when I realized I would scream if I heard the word "democracy" one more time in my J1100 class. That, and the insistence that "there is no liberal media bias." All I do in that class is crossword puzzles. Journalism may be practical, but it bores me. So I started looking (and drooling) over the classes I could take if I got an English degree instead. What else lets you take Old English as your foreign language requirement? Not to mention classes in oral tradition and, of course, creative writing.

So, after long discussions with my parents, and the realization that journalism really would be helpful in the "real" world (while English seems more useful for surviving flaming dragons), my mom came up with the brilliant idea of a double major. I know I'd thought of that before, but never very seriously. So, now I'm in the process of filling out forms and finding out I have not one advisor now, but three (Journalism, Honors College, A&S). Oh, the joys of double majors.

If I'm honest though, the real reason I'm double majoring can be summed up in three words: St. Andrews, Scotland. Heehee, study abroad with English rocks.

A Typical Weekend: Poker, Asia, Tornados, and Wigs

Well, I've had a crazy kind of weekend. Friday I hung out with friends at Mark's place, watching people play Katamari Damacy, reading the prologue of The Hollow Kingdom to my friend Libby while people were playing katamari, and playing poker for money. (No, I am not getting sucked into the gambling underworld. We each put in $2 at the beginning, that's all).

Yesterday I went to an "International Fashion Show" at Jesse auditorium. It was three hours (three hours!) and it turned into more of a dance recital than fashion show. It was fairly fun, but I was really surprised: it was all Asian countries. What, can't European countries have fashion heritage too? Or South American or African for that matter? I hardly consider Japan, Taiwan, China, Korea, and India "worldwide." As one of my friends pointed out, it's probably because those countries are the ones with clubs here at Mizzou. Still! My favorite part was the one little toddler who was supposed to be part of a modeling "family" who ran crying off stage, was led back by his mom, who then left; of course, he started promptly crying again.

Today, as usual, I prepared to help out with my kindergarten sunday school class. But our reader's theater leader came running up, and asked me if I could play a part because they really really needed someone. Of course I was willing to oblige. ;) So, at the last second I was transformed into the evil "Self," minion of the Dark Prince. I got to throw flaming (okay, foam) darts at Christian, and wear a horrendous back wig. Oh, not to mention having a bunch of lines AND getting stabbed and running out of the room dying. What better part is there? I'm afraid I'm going to get typecast as the evil villain soon.

This afternoon I was awoken from my nap by my roommate tapping me, as the tornado sirens were going off. They herded all of us into our laundry room/basement. It was quite a tight squeeze. Actually, they had to put people in the first and second floor bathrooms, too. We were kept down there for quite a while. I almost finished my book and didn't have anything to read, either (horrors!). Such fun.

A Conspiracy Unmasked

This past weekend I went home, and being the rebellious person that I am, I planned on skipping my Monday classes so that I could stay with my family a little bit longer. Sunday night I started a new book at eleven o'clock, and I finished it slightly before two in the morning. My mom and I had planned on shopping the next morning, and I was (mostly) awake by nine-ish. So far so good. We left the house, me chattering despite my sore throat and hoarse voice.
All of a sudden my mom pulls into this parking lot and says "We're here." I look around me, not sure exactly where "here" is. All I can see are a lot of cars and the back of a brick building. I remember passing a church just a second ago, and I wonder if I'm meeting someone about my scotland trip, or something else or what? "Mom" I groan. "I can't talk to people. I'm sick and a wreck and I'm wearing that long lumpy polar fleece that you hate." I try to emphasize the sick part by sniffing loudly (well, I'm sure I at least thought of it). She smiled an enigmatic smile, which really should have warned me (but didn't) and I complainingly followed her into the building through a side door. We went up some stairs, and past a lawyer's office, some orthodontists' offices (Been there. Done that. So not going back.), and my mom stopped in front of a door labeled "Quest Diagnostics."
I'm pretty sure my eyes narrowed, and if I was some animal (or even as smart as some animals) I would have bolted for cover then and there. But, being I highly educated human, I merely noted "This isn't the mall." My mom reminded me that I needed to get tested for celiac's as she breezed into the clinic. "I thought you'd do better if you didn't have time to think about it," she commented, as if I needed reminding that the last time I had blood work done I fainted. (Hey, there were extenuating circumstances. I had been reading a book were a girl got sent back to the Middle Ages and almost instantly passed out from a plague. Think lovely thoughts.) I settled moodily into the chair feeling very betrayed.
"Calm down," my mom says. "Remember, last time you said you didn't want to know ahead of time." I said WHAT? Frankly, I have no memory of this admission, and I cannot believe that I would have betrayed myself so. Still, I have no memory of a lot of things that happen to me, so this is not all that unusual. Maybe next time I should have her get it in writing (ink is fine; it doesn't have to be blood. . .oh wait, blood. . .aaahhhh). I really really really hate having blood drawn. As I waited in the (where else) waiting room, I discovered that not only was my mom in on this plan, but my dad and Julia too! If it turns out Kaelen knew about it too I may have to consider moving to Australia.
Well, back we went to The Room, and I glared at my mom and made dire warnings, and she mentioned that I was turning green, and could we please not go down the me-fainting route again. Well, I didn't faint, but I insisted that it was only because the lady was good, and that's not something you can count on. In any cause, I got a Dr. Pepper out of it, and the promise that my mom would actually listen to two of my new favorite songs (she has the bad habit of flipping off all our music in the car). Actually, I suppose her plot was a good idea, but who wouldn't feel a bit miffed when their family places them in a situation of torture instead of shopping?

Vizzini Lives

Do you remember Vizzini from The Princess Bride? You know, the neurotic Sicilian with a penchant for shouting "inconceivable!" ("You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."). Well, yesterday I was sitting in my Career Explorations of Journalism class (only one more day of it left total! yay!), and the lecture was about other options in communications. The first speaker started out pretty bland, but he got excited quickly, and every other sentence ended up very loud and with lots of emphasis. It was during one of the first of these impassioned sentences that I realized he sounded EXACTLY like Vizzini. I'm not kidding. His "normal" speech sounded, well, fairly normal, but as soon as he got excited *poof* out came Vizzini. I was starting to want to giggle; once you noticed it it was so obvious. I whispered it to my friend, and she started snickering. Really, I was trying so hard not to laugh, and I think my face was probably red. . . it's a good thing it was a lecture and not a small class. I wish you all could have heard this guy. Or maybe not: then we'd have a whole row of people cracking up, and that might warrant some more attention.

Prolific Predestination and Elasticity

Arg! I just finished writing a 1 1/2 (real) page single-spaced email on predestination. It wasn't my fault! The guy specifically wanted a response to his questions about my earlier statement. Honest! It's for my Tolkien class. See, the professor set up a listserv so that we can discuss the issues we're talking about out of class. And all these people are raising questions, and I have so much to say, and you know I can never keep my mouth shut. . . (It was so hard to write, too, because I couldn't use italics at all. Really, I was quite handicapped.) Groan. . . I am hopeless.

Actually, the real thing this blog update is about is my Econ lab this morning. We played a "game" called "Elasticity Stretch," and we randomly split up into four teams. When I say "game," I mean "write down answers to questions about elasticity supply of demand." Oh, so fun!(voice drips with sarcasm) Still, the winning team got extra credit, so at least we were competing for something. The environment was hardly conducive to quick thinking: this is 9am on a friday morning in a warm room filled with yellow sunlight. Duh! Our first major challenge came when we were told to pick a name. The three other people in my group and I look at each with completely blank stares. "Come on," our TA told all of us, "Think of a fun name that has to do with Economics." That got a few raised eyebrows, at least. We muttered some halfhearted phrases to each other ("we could always go with 'demand'"), and then he asked the first group what their name was. "Supply" they said. He his expression clearly said you-can-do-better-than-that, and he said,"the next group had better not say "demand." Oops. There goes our one idea. We stare desperately at each other, and the other girl in my group says "Come back to us." The next group picked "George" (the name of our TA) and the other group picked "We supply the answers." Drat! It's back to us, and now we are starting to plan escape routes from the building. Without missing a beat, the TA writes our group name on the board "Come back to us." LOL. Whenever we had to write our name down we cracked up. At least I did. Oh, and all the groups tied and got the extra credit. But we had the coolest name.

Somebody Get Ready To Do CPR. . .

I'm too tired of typing right now to write much, so I'll just give an update of my science lab yesterday. I thought of doing a serious reflection of my life right now, then I figured that I couldn't make this blog serious if I tried. If you want a series book review, though, go to www.writersread.blogspot.com (shameless self-promotion). It's a cool blog Mr. Eubanks started, and I'm one of the (many) contributors. But back to my story:
So I finished my first science lab report (barely) in time to start my next one. We were measuring magnetic fields in appliances, and since we had to do it somewhere other than the lab, I volunteered my room. Thankfully I knew about this ahead of time, otherwise I cringe to think what might have appeared when we were moving the refrigerator and microwave. One of the teachers (i.e. our TA) was going to come by and check to make sure we were doing okay. So imagine my surprise when our professor walks into my room! Now, this is the same professor who I found myself arguing about evolution with on the first day (will I never learn?). The same professor of who, I convinced myself, has absolutely nothing in common with myself. The professor who scares me; the professor who makes me believe that our brains operate in completely different universes. So, she sits down on my rug (and I utter another prayer of thankfulness that I had time to vacuum), and asks us about our experiment. Then looking at the poster on the wall right by the door, says "So who here likes Firefly?" If my jaw did not drop open literally, then it certainly did mentally. I tried to gather the facts in my head (1. It's a poster for "Serenity", which means that she actually knows that "Serenity" and "Firefly" are connected. 2. Wait: she knows what Firefly is?) and I managed to come up the completely inane comment "You know Firefly?" "Yes," she replies. "I love that show."
I can just see God chuckling up in heaven as he teaches me that I have a lot in common with even the most different people. All my assumptions crumble away, and I admit that I am not so isolated from the rest of humanity as I sometimes think (well, who else do you know who memorizes 15 pages of poetry for fun?). That, and there's at least one other Firefly fan still out there. ;)

Apocalypse Now, Por Favor

Saturday, February 18th:
I begin to work on my lab report. I stare blankly at the many papers spread across my bed until my roommate takes pity on me and helps me decipher them. She also tries to help me understand the difference between velocity and acceleration. I wonder how such a simple physics experiment can go so wrong. I spend hours trying to learn how to use the charting software on my computer.

Sunday, February 19th:
There is no curse in elvish, entish, or the tongues of men for such a lab report.

Monday, February 20th:
I remember that we are supposed to find outside sources to put our experiment in context. I spend a half hour at the library and come up with nothing. I cordially dislike scientific journals. That is the understatement of the century.

The Future:
Maybe the world will end before this thing is due. I'll go see if the apocalypse in on my calendar for sometime today.

Of Marshmallows, Fantasy, and "Country" Music

Sigh. . .I've actually just spent like 4 straight hours reading a book for a journalism test tomorrow and doing my econ homework. I'm getting burned out (I'm never that productive!). Maybe it's cuz of that 2 and a half hour nap earlier. ;) And I still have more reading to do for that class (groan).
At the dining hall tonight we had a dessert that the signs labeled "marshmallow treats." And yes. . .they were rice krispy treats. That is just so weird! I understand that "Rice Krispy's" is a name of a brand, and chances are the cheapskates don't use the real stuff, but "Marshmallow treats" keeps making me expect little marshmallow snowmen with candy eyes or something. Maybe I have been studying too much.

Last night I remembered that I wanted to order the King of Attolia (by Megan Whalen Turner) and the last of the Wren books (by Sherwood Smith) from amazon, and I wanted them shipped to my dorm, so I decided to spend enough to get free supersaver shipping. Well, when I picked out another book I discovered that most of their fantasy/sci-fi books are get 4 for the price of 3! Of course, the two books I originally wanted are "kid's books" or something and so they don't count; I ended up ordering six fantasy books. :D (or is that a :P ?)

I found a new music group that I really like. They are called "The Spares" and itunes calls them country, but I don't usually like country at all and I like them, so I'm not sure that that is right. Anyhow, they led the worship at my church this past Sunday, and I bought their CD "Hand Me Down." It's really great! I've listened to it waaay to may times already.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy sigh. . .this morning Rollins (my dining hall) had a special valentine's breakfast. There were supposed to be heart-shaped pancakes (which there weren't), but I had a decadent breakfast of normal pancakes doused in a dark chocolate syrup and covered with semi-sweet morsels. Highlight: strawberries with tons of a warm chocolate glaze. I felt like Kaylee (if you don't get this, YOU NEED TO SEE FIREFLY). It's such a nice day here, all warm and sunny; so, of course, I have a two hour science lab this afternoon in a room without windows. Go figure.
Ha! The journalism school just sent out an e-mail encouraging us to go to a lecture on "the important topic of nanotechnology." On valentine's evening? They're got to be kidding. Even people like me who aren't dating have better things to do! (I'm hanging out with friends and watching Scrubs.) Hee hee, nothing like priorities.

Maybe I'll Be a Steerswoman Next Halloween. . .

Wow. I just finished the 3rd of 4 books in a series, and found out that there will be more that haven't been published yet. The author took a ten year break between 2 and 3, so that doesn't look particularly encouraging. Oh, the books are The Steerswoman's Road (two novels in one: The Steerswoman and The Outskirter's Secret), The Lost Steersman, and The Launguage of Power (which I haven't started yet). They are set in a medieval-like society, but one quickly discovers the the "magic" of the world is actually technology. Only the wizards know how to use this "magic," and they guard their secrets jealously. On the other end of the spectrum are the Steerswomen, explorers and chroniclers who give knowledge freely to any who ask. A steerswoman must reply truthfully to any question she is asked, and a person must give an answer to any question she asks. Believe it or not, these books actually tied into my science course (a very little) and made it more intriguing for me. Okay, I didn't mean give a lecture about these books, but oh well.

On Monday night, I went to "Waffle Night," which is a chance to hang out at our RUF leader's house. It was a "rip-roaring good time" (LOL). The party was made up of our campus minister and his family, our RUF interns, and about seven students.

[My posting was just interrupted by the sounding of the fire alarms. To paraphrase what Jayne from Firefly so eloquently stated, There's nothing more deceiving than a low down dirty (pause) deceiver. . .especially one that pulls fire alarms.Well, I might was well update the "Fire Alarm Stories" archive. Several people were out there in flip-flops; that would be so horrible! It's really freeezing out there. One person "saved" their guinea pig by bringing it out in its plastic ball. And one of the guys (whom I do not know) in the small huddle I was in mentioned that he pulled the fire alarm in his dorm early first semester. He even used a hanger to avoid any possible ink packs. We brought up that this crowd was probably not the best place to boast about this exploit, but he laughed it off and was not repentant. In hindsight, I think I should have slapped him, as some small revenge for all the people he inconvenienced. I really wish I would have. When our hall coordinator finally got our attention for announcements, she was greeted with a very loudly shouted F-word. This probably does not put us anymore in her good graces. It turns out it was a scheduled fire alarm, which in good because it means it wasn't a prank, and bad because it was really really cold out and very mean to do it at this time.]

Back to Waffle Night. Basically we ate waffles and had a good time; the funniest/craziest thing we did was go around the table telling scar stories. A very odd, but also strangely cool, tradition. I (personally) really like my scars, maybe because they look impressive and I was too young to remember the pain. I think, though, that it's because I've read too many books where the neat characters had interesting scars. And people seem very impressed when I tell my stories, and wince or gasp very nicely. Maybe that makes up for the fact that I faint when I have blood drawn. Anyhow, "Scar Wars" was really fun, and it was awesome because it was so different from all the other "What is your major?", etc.

Only 3 more episodes of Battlestar Galactica (first season) left. :(

Estoy Muy Triste

Yesterday my Spanish class found out that our teacher is leaving. She's got a new job, and can only keep one of her two classes. The university chose to have her keep her other one (go figure). The really depressing thing is I know someone in the other class, and she doesn't appreciate the teacher at all. Sigh. So today we had a new teacher. Homework, class format, etc. is all going to be different now. It's hard not to compare our new teacher to Grisel, and start out miffed. She seems nice enough, but it's different, and we all know how much I like change. :P

In other news, I bought a "Serenity" poster at a poster sale.

Rocheport, MO

Yesterday I woke up, did four loads of laundry, and dueled with a washer (I lost). I also ran out of meal tickets, so I decided rather than trudge somewhere to get meals (or just pay the dining hall) I would eat snacks for lunch and dinner. But when my friend Libby called at 1 o'clock and invited me to go out to lunch with some other friends, I figured it was meant to be. So I walked through the rain (without my umbrella) to her dorm, then to another girl's car and off we went. It was a very nice (albeit a bit cramped with four people) sportscar. We headed to Rocheport, a town about 20 minutes away, Pop. 208 (Plus 1!), as the sign announced.
As we turned down the small streets, Libby was ecstatic "Look! Isn't that fence amazing? This is such a wonderful place!" While the rest of us looked around and saw many, many antique stores but no restaurants. Anyhow, after some "I think it's around here somewhere's" (you can't get too lost in Rocheport), we found the little restaurant. The menu was so small it was just written on a whiteboard, and as the rest of us looked suspiciously at the weird combinations of pasta or crabcakes with sauces we were unfamiliar with (hey, I'm a picky eater), the other girl peppered Libby with questions, while the lone guy in our group pondered "What's shit-take?" (that is, Shittake mushrooms). In the end I ended up ordering two desserts, carrot cake and apple pie, which was probably the oddest order the lady had ever received. But she laughed. While we waited for our food, we colored on the paper tablecloth with crayons, Libby drawing a crazy picture of the guy (he's in the Navy) on a very funny looking boat, while he responded by adding Libby in among the aliens he had already drawn. I just doodled some girls, who Libby declared to be the characters from Little Women, and we spent a few minutes trying to remember their names, discussing the movie, and agreeing that we needed to read the book again.
Afterwards we walked to one of the Antique stores, where I bought something (but it wasn't for me). The store has very cute little bags and purple tissue paper. Then we all piled back in the car and returned to Mizzou. Ummm. . .the end. So this story doesn't have a climax. Live with it.

Horoscopes In A Klutz-Centric Universe

For my science class, we did a little fun experiment. Basically, we proved that Zodiac signs do not determine personal characteristics (duh!). Anyhow, it got me thinking. I imagined a world where horoscope predictions were true, and I decided that it would not help certain klutzy people like myself. For example:

You will have a special encounter with a person you know.

You careen head-on into a casual acquaintance, making a complete fool of yourself.

Your financial situation will change.

A soda machine eats your dollar and provides no soda.

You will escape the rut of boring ho-hum existence

You fall down a flight of stairs.


etc. and so on. The only thing more powerful than fate is Klutziness.

From The Chronicles of the Princess, Semester Two: Week One

Well, my day started off just lovely: after my second class I sliced my thumb on the bathroom door. As slices go, it's not the bad-enough-to-need-stitches-kind, but it is certainly the wow-that's-a-lot-of-blood-is-it-ever-going-to-stop?-variety. It would be my left thumb, too (go ahead and smirk, right-handers :P). It's rainy and cold here today, and my long journalism class was, of course, on the other side of campus. And I spilled pizza on my shirt at lunch. But enough tales of woe and sorrow: it is the weekend! Let us make merry and rejoice!

My classes this semester run the gauntlet from predictable to horrible to wonderful. My Theology of JRR Tolkien class (the only redeeming class on my schedule) is taught by an amazing professor. He's retired, and doesn't even get paid to teach, but that's never seems to have stopped him. This year the university offered him any class he wanted, so he made this one up. For the first class, he read us a portion of the Ainulindalë (the Middle Earth creation story) while playing some of Hayden's "Creation." For fun he travels the world trying to see every species of penguin in the wild (he just got back from one of these frozen trips). The other class he teaches is called "Music and Mathematics." As I said, he's awesome.
The not-so-great class is my Honors science course. The main professor (the lectures will be taught by a variety of professors, most of whom seem really nice) is rather intimidating; she seems fair but very stony. Her comment on the first day that she hates to let students out early didn't reassure us any, either. Apparently a lot of the class will be geology, and at the end will be a group project, part of which is identifying age, etc, of a spot near campus. So after class, I went up and asked what if one did not believe in millions of years. We ended up arguing (umm, "discussing") evolution for the next half hour. To be fair, she doesn't say that science equals atheism, but believes that ethics and especially metaphysics should not be mixed up with science. Anyhow, she thinks that evolution is the most viable theory, and that every other argument has vital flaws from a scientific perspective. Of course I don't know enough to really contradict her. So now I'm doing extra research to try and defend my position. As if I didn't already have enough to do.
My Econ T.A. is from Georgia--not the state, the country. His accept is really interesting. So far I've had teachers from China, Puerto Rico, and now Georgia. Exciting.

The other day I found out that itunes had added the rest of Loreena McKennitt's albums! I was so happy; I downloaded 2 of them and have listened to her rendition of Alfred Noyes' poem "The Highwayman" almost constantly since them. Sigh of contentment . . .I love story-poems set to music. One last note: Mr. Eubanks has started a really cool blog called "Writers Read," it's a great place to get book reviews (and I'm not just saying that cuz I'm part of it!) The address is www.writersread.blogspot.com
And I'm horrible with adding links, so there isn't one. Sorry.

My Long Sojourn in Internet-Free Lands

Technically I had internet at home, but between the slow dialup and fending off my siblings clamoring for their turns, I decided I had a good enough excuse not to blog (that, and the fact that my blog's title specifically mentions adventures in college). Hopefully my brain is enough awake to at least start to chronicle some of the things that have happened to me lately.

I'm going to breeze over Christmas break (Firefly episodes, reading fiction till 2am, Firefly Episodes, trip to the art museum, Firefly episodes. . .), but I can't resist at least mentioning my recent escapades in retail. As you may (or may not) know, I got a job, thanks to Lukas, as a seasonal cashier at Target (not that it was his idea to let me handle money). It's pretty funny/odd/different being introduced and having people's eyes widen when they realize "Oh, you're Lukas' sister!" Before all my siblings had to put up with being known as "Lee Anne's brother/sister." The tables have turned. Sigh. . .soon I'll come home, and their friends will go "We didn't even know you had an older sister!" But I digress.

Einstein once said that genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration. I'm trying to think of some similar witty remark to cover retail, but it's not coming. I know the perspiration is in their somewhere. So are blood and tears (and I'm not kidding about the blood!) Hmm, Neither holidays, nor schedules, nor shoving people out of line will cause us speed up. . . Oh well. In honor of this lovely period of my life, I have come up with some Plastic Bag Awards to give to some very special customers.

Best Practical Joke
It's Target Policy to ask a guest if they need a gift receipt if it looks like it might apply to something in their purchase. Before the holidays, you pretty much just ask everybody. What's really funny is how predictable their reactions are. Everyone pauses for a second, and stares at their purchases as if they are trying to telepathically connect with the items ("Oh wise item from the planet of Mattel, you do desire that I should request a gift receipt for you?"). Most people make up their minds, and go back to being their brusque or painfully slow selves. But some people just think this situation is just too funny. Notably dads. First time this happened:
Me: Do you need a gift receipt for anything?
Customer: [long thoughtful glance at items] Maybe for the laundry detergent.
Then thee dad grins, elbows one of his kids (if they are with him) and laughs at his wittiness. First time, it was kind of funny. Second time it happened (with a completely different customer!) it was even funnier. They think that they are being so original, yet they all pick laundry detergent. I'm not kidding.

But the prize for best joke goes to one particular customer. I'm scanning the items, trying to be a "fast, fun, and friendly cashier" (read: impossible), I've said hi, then this dad just says "Umm, I was harassed by one of your employees, and you need to give me a 10% on my entire purchase." The next two seconds were filled with more thoughts than I've ever had at one time before: ohmygoshdoIcalltheheadcashiermaybehe'dliketoopenaTargetcardandsavetenpercentthatwayIknowIcangivediscountsonsingleitemsbutonawholeorderthisisgoingtomakethistranactionslowandgivemeabadratingWHATdidhejustsay?
Some of this complete confusion must have showed in my face (I hope my mouth wasn't open), for he look at me, slightly worried, and said "You know I was joking, right?" Rush of relief and quick drop of adrenaline. He kept looking worried, and apologized, and I think I managed at least a wan smile while assuring him that it was quite all right and really very funny. Afterwards, that is.


Oddest Combination of Items
(A man is checking out) A turquoise bra, a kid's baseball glove, and a household object. Yeah, that was surprising. Of course, after a few minutes he was joined by his wife and son, which went a long way towards explaining things, but STILL.

Craziest Request
It's always funny to see what people open in the store and then pay for. For example, a lady checking out with a HUGE (open) bag of M&Ms: "You may want to put those in a separate bag so they don't spill. My daughter would be so embarrassed [conspiratorial smile] but she's not here, and after all, sometimes you just have to have some chocolate. . ." Other crazy open items: Kleenex box (obvious, due to the girl blowing her running nose as she checked out) feminine products ("We had an accident") and the usual array of sodas. But the absolute craziest was when three twenty-something girls came to check out. They dumped their pile of items on the belt, then said:

Spokesgirl: Can you just ring up the tags? They're all here. I'm not sure if you can or not, but she's kind of wearing the items
Other Girl [pointing at third girl, our Target product model]: It's the shirt, and the bra, and the belt. . . Are you going to make her take them off?
Me[slightly floored]: That's okay, I can just ring up the tags.
Spokesgirl [huge smile] Thanks so much. I wasn't sure if you could do that.
Me: I'm not sure I can either; I'm new, but I will anyway.
Girls: [smiles and giggles]
me (to myself) was it really that funny?
"Bye," "Thanks," etc.
Definitely Unusual.

You can run, but you can't hide

Okay, so the two things I wasn't going to miss about Wildwood were 1) the retreat 2) Humanities finals. Well, earlier in this semester I committed to an RUF retreat, so that lovely escape went out the window. Yesterday and today I've had not one, but TWO humanities finals.
Yesterday I sat down for two hours of franticly-written essay questions on the Ancient World. Today I'm going to have to do the same for Western Civ. Why did I pick so many honors courses (rolls eyes?)

But in a few short hours I'll be through with my first semester of college! Hmm, and back to sloooow internet connection at home.

Behind Every Great College There Is. . . Conspiriacy Report #1

[dramatic music playing] I recently discovered that my college has entered into contract with a shadowy organization that dictates principles of school life, restricts our freedoms, and subtly tries to indoctrinate the students. What is this organization? Is it a pact with the great Master of Lies himself? No. Is it bowing obeisance to a group of highly intelligent rats? Not that I know of (hmmm. . .I'll have to investigate that some more). Is it a devious plan to allow a totalitarian dictator to take over the world? Not really. It is [dramatic flourish] COKE!

Yes, believe it or not, Coca Cola governs what we drink at community meetings. How did I stumble upon this piece of pertinent information? I went to a community meeting for 4th and 5th floors, and some friends and I were talking to our PA afterwards (there was food--always helps encourage participation) when she said something along the lines of "I wish there were more choices of soda, but almost all of the coke products were out." Another girl laughed and said "Why didn't you just get some other kind of soda?" My PA replied, totally serious, "We're only allowed to buy coke products with community funds [in term of soda]." I think all of our jaws dropped open. Apparently Coke donates generously to residential life, and one of the terms is (of course) a monopoly of coke products.

I guess that would explain the lack of Dr. Pepper in the dining hall, and why campus is almost completely free of Pepsi products(you can still buy it at, say, Mizzoumart, but not in vending machines, or dining halls, or food courts, etc.). Personally, I'd much rather have Coke than Pepsi, but for people who prefer Pepsi it would be kind of horrible. So, the moral of this story is: Forget about asking all those questions on college visit of "What are classes like?" or "How's the technology on campus?" Just keep your eyes open around soda machines and whisper surreptitiously to your guide "So who are you really working for?" Because being stuck inn Pepsi land for four years would nbe most unpleasent.

When (Wardrobe) doors close. . .

Well, we've just finished our last reader's theatre sunday school of the semester. It's always slightly sad to see things come to an end, especially something as fun as Narnia. The white witch has been defeated, the Pevensies are safely home, and my time as Wolf/Creature #1/Mr. Tumnus/Mrs. Beaver is over. It's amazing to think that I've been going around wishing people "Merry Christmas;" time sure has flown. Maybe coming home will be something like stepping back through the wardrobe door into England, finding out that I'm not quite all grown up yet. Then again, maybe not. It'll probably be more like entering Narnia again to find that Cair Paravel is in ruins ("Look what we did to you're room, Lee Anne!") and that centuries have gone by ("Wait--you did WHAT while I was gone?").