Yikes! I'm sorry I've been so sporadic about keeping up with this blog-- my life (both academically and socially) has been very busy and crazy. While I'm not sure how entertaining hearing about my life right now will be, I'll let you read about it and judge for yourselves.
Last weekend, in addition to the mound of schoolwork on my desk, I managed to have a very crazy and jam-packed weekend. On Friday night, I went to our second Guild meeting. The Guild is our version of the Inklings, a small group of writers dedicated to reading, writing, loving God, and enjoying each other's company. Not that that's our motto or anything. My good friend Sarah started it, and it is comprised mostly of students from RUF. We've been meeting at Memorial Union, which is the closest thing we have to the Bird and the Baby. Unfortunately, the little coffee (and hot chocolate!) place was closed, so we had to do without. On the bright side, Mizzou After Dark (fun events on friday nights) was setting up for a Valentine-making party, and after our meeting we got free pizza, soda, and chocolate fondue (and yes, for college students those go together very well).
On Saturday, I met Jason, Marcus, and Mike for dinner at Plaza (the "nice" dining hall), and we debated on what to do that night. Mike wanted to go to Stephen College's production of The Taming of the Shrew, and Jason and Marcus were all for renting a movie. After some vacillating, I threw in my lot with Mike, and we all ended up going to the play, and then afterwards going to rent movies. The play was awesome; very top notch and enjoyable. The actors (all students!) were amazing, and they made every part seem clear and accessible. They started out in modern times wearing modern clothes, and Kate gets knocked out by bullies and wakes up in the production. As the play progresses, the outfits slowly morph into medieval garments. There were some very clever scenes too, like when Petruccio is "courting" Kate for the first time, they are in a boxing ring, literally swinging and jumping at each other as they deliver their verbal punches. After the play, we watched "Entrapment (Sean Connery, Katherine Zeta-Jones). I got back to my dorm after midnight, and couldn't fall asleep because people were bouncing a basketball in the hall and being obscenely loud (and I'm on a quiet floor!) So at two, when I still couldn't sleep, this short and silly poem came to me called "Kate's Revenge" and I got up (for once) and wrote it down.
Sunday I dragged myself to church, and since Lukas was at home with the car, I went to church on campus. Unfortunately, I didn’t plan ahead, and realized that I had no stockings or knee-highs to wear (and it was freezing out!). When I got to church, I realized that the dressy shoes were rubbing my ankles raw, and one was bleeding. Just great! Of course I had no band-aids. So after church I got a ride with Jason back to Mike’s, were eventually we ended up making omelets (the boys did, that is) and watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Mike was nice enough to give me a ride to the Jane Austen Tea I was going to at 2:00. My Write about Lit teacher (who’s awesome, by the way) heard that the Columbia Jane Austen Society was having this event, and invited anyone in the class who was interested. It was at the Kayotea tearoom downtown, and everybody got their own little pot of tea (over forty choices)! I picked Wild Strawberry. There were also chocolate chip scones (yum!). It was funny, because my teacher (who’s a PhD student) and I were the closest in age, and we were sitting next to each other, so when we were introduced to people it was like, “yes, we’re both students at Mizzou.” And then I would laugh and say “But she’s actually my teacher, too.” Anyhow, a lot of fun. That night, I had to watch Battlestar Galactica (Lukas and I are finally caught up!).
So you can see why my life is crazy. Add 18 credit hours of class to that, and you have a good idea of why I'm sleep deprived.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
A New Conspiracy
I will excuse my long absence only by saying that nothing particularly exciting or misadventurous (in even a small way) has happened to me lately. Well, except for my post-modern Buddhist monk teacher, and the start of The Guild. . .but those are stories for another time.
Every time I walk out of the main library entry here on campus, there is this sign that really bothers me. It says
WHEN THE ALARM SOUNDS, PLEASE STEP BACK
It's right past those scanner-things, I suppose to stop people who already had no qualms about stealing books from running and escaping with them. But something was nagging at my mind and bothering me, and it finally came to me: the problem with the sign is that it said when the alarm sounds, not if the alarm sounds. Really, I thought, affronted. I have no intention of setting off the alarm, so please keep you accusations to yourself (when I say that, I feel like a little old lady poking some silly youngster with her parasol).
Still, it raises important life-questions. Does the library really expect 9 out of 10 students to set off the alarm? Is it to discourage professors from stealing books? Are their really no English majors working at the library? Or is it some darker plot, to frame innocent library-goers and hit them with a crime they never committed?
Hmmm. Or maybe they just believe in original sin.
Every time I walk out of the main library entry here on campus, there is this sign that really bothers me. It says
WHEN THE ALARM SOUNDS, PLEASE STEP BACK
It's right past those scanner-things, I suppose to stop people who already had no qualms about stealing books from running and escaping with them. But something was nagging at my mind and bothering me, and it finally came to me: the problem with the sign is that it said when the alarm sounds, not if the alarm sounds. Really, I thought, affronted. I have no intention of setting off the alarm, so please keep you accusations to yourself (when I say that, I feel like a little old lady poking some silly youngster with her parasol).
Still, it raises important life-questions. Does the library really expect 9 out of 10 students to set off the alarm? Is it to discourage professors from stealing books? Are their really no English majors working at the library? Or is it some darker plot, to frame innocent library-goers and hit them with a crime they never committed?
Hmmm. Or maybe they just believe in original sin.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
High Speeds
About a week and a half ago, I was at the mall with my little sister and some of her friends. We had been looking for dresses for them to wear to the Wildwood evening party thing, and had been taking lots of pictures and having a hilarious, albeit exhausting, time. We finally collapsed and ate a late lunch at the food court, sitting down right across from the new Borders store. There was a small crowd hanging around: getting pictures with the Stormtroopers or Rams cheerleaders, etc., etc, for the purpose of raising money for FirstRead. And they also had. . .a speed reading contest. As we sat there eating, I listened to people try to read one of three books out loud as fast as they could. Turning to Julia, I remarked, "I could so beat them."
Julia quirked her eyebrows at me, and with that mischievous gleam that's always in her eyes remarked, "So try. I dare you." I made the usual protestations, but I already knew what my answer was going to be.
As I finished eating, I continued reconnaissance, noting that people did best with "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish." They had a white board with the current high score, 87. I assumed that was words per minute. I suffered a slight shock when I discovered that it was actually "words per 15 seconds." All of a sudden 87 began to look hard to beat. Still, I was confident in my abilities, and I knew I would never forgive myself if I lost this opportunity. After all, isn't how fast I talk one of the first things people mention about me? Don't little kids, slightly more blunt than their elders, announce "You talk too fast"? Surely this is my niche, my talent, my area of expertise! So I went up to the table area, and ever desperate for someone new to read, I was quickly encouraged to try.
Now, I love talking. I guess what I really ought to say is, I love attention. Nevertheless, I am always slightly nervous when I get up in front of people. So it was with some trepidation as well as exhilaration that I began to read. The words spilled out, and I blessed Dr. Seuss for giving nice flowing sentences that rhyme. I allowed the words to carry me along, and it was hard to screech to a stop at the end of 15 seconds (though probably a good thing, as I needed to breathe). There was silence, and as they only announce a new record I was terrified that I had done, well, terribly. Come on, come on I thought. Then one of the ladies reached out to erase the score on the board, and another said "Well! It seems we have a new record." The numbers took shape: 107.
YEEESSSS! I felt like yelling inside, though outwardly I was shaking. I think I was probably grinning like an idiot. The contest was set to go on for another twenty minutes, so the lady suggested that I come back then, as, she said, they would probably have a trophy for me. So Julia, Julia, Lauren and I killed some time, and then came back. I looked worriedly at the board, but my score still held. As they browsed through books in the store, I went out five minutes before the contest ended to wait around. The really friendly lady smiled to see me again, said something to the coordinator, and beckoned me over. "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to read again," she said. "To see if you can beat your high score." Flattered, I agreed. Still, what if my score went down? That would be embarrassing. But I swung into it, glad to have another chance. This time, I reached 120 words! When the girls came out I felt deviously happy, as I was sure they would think it was someone else's score and come comfort me, so that I could tell them that it was actually mine. I'm telling you, I really am a selfish person. After yet another attempt, I topped off at 123 words in fifteen seconds.
Well, all I won was a little plastic trophy with a matchbox car on top and a computer printed sticker saying "Borders 1st Place" (or something like that), but that's okay. I left feeling very proud of myself, and wondering how I could turn this into a career (lol). Maybe I can't sing, maybe I have no sense of rhythm, maybe I'm terrible at sports, but hey, at least I can read really really fast. So there. ;)
Julia quirked her eyebrows at me, and with that mischievous gleam that's always in her eyes remarked, "So try. I dare you." I made the usual protestations, but I already knew what my answer was going to be.
As I finished eating, I continued reconnaissance, noting that people did best with "One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish." They had a white board with the current high score, 87. I assumed that was words per minute. I suffered a slight shock when I discovered that it was actually "words per 15 seconds." All of a sudden 87 began to look hard to beat. Still, I was confident in my abilities, and I knew I would never forgive myself if I lost this opportunity. After all, isn't how fast I talk one of the first things people mention about me? Don't little kids, slightly more blunt than their elders, announce "You talk too fast"? Surely this is my niche, my talent, my area of expertise! So I went up to the table area, and ever desperate for someone new to read, I was quickly encouraged to try.
Now, I love talking. I guess what I really ought to say is, I love attention. Nevertheless, I am always slightly nervous when I get up in front of people. So it was with some trepidation as well as exhilaration that I began to read. The words spilled out, and I blessed Dr. Seuss for giving nice flowing sentences that rhyme. I allowed the words to carry me along, and it was hard to screech to a stop at the end of 15 seconds (though probably a good thing, as I needed to breathe). There was silence, and as they only announce a new record I was terrified that I had done, well, terribly. Come on, come on I thought. Then one of the ladies reached out to erase the score on the board, and another said "Well! It seems we have a new record." The numbers took shape: 107.
YEEESSSS! I felt like yelling inside, though outwardly I was shaking. I think I was probably grinning like an idiot. The contest was set to go on for another twenty minutes, so the lady suggested that I come back then, as, she said, they would probably have a trophy for me. So Julia, Julia, Lauren and I killed some time, and then came back. I looked worriedly at the board, but my score still held. As they browsed through books in the store, I went out five minutes before the contest ended to wait around. The really friendly lady smiled to see me again, said something to the coordinator, and beckoned me over. "If you don't mind, I'd like for you to read again," she said. "To see if you can beat your high score." Flattered, I agreed. Still, what if my score went down? That would be embarrassing. But I swung into it, glad to have another chance. This time, I reached 120 words! When the girls came out I felt deviously happy, as I was sure they would think it was someone else's score and come comfort me, so that I could tell them that it was actually mine. I'm telling you, I really am a selfish person. After yet another attempt, I topped off at 123 words in fifteen seconds.
Well, all I won was a little plastic trophy with a matchbox car on top and a computer printed sticker saying "Borders 1st Place" (or something like that), but that's okay. I left feeling very proud of myself, and wondering how I could turn this into a career (lol). Maybe I can't sing, maybe I have no sense of rhythm, maybe I'm terrible at sports, but hey, at least I can read really really fast. So there. ;)
Monday, December 04, 2006
16 Inches
Last Friday Mizzou announced its first snow day in eleven years. My roommate woke me up at eight that morning with the words "I think school might be cancelled." Somehow those words brought me awake faster than my alarm ever does. I checked my email, and yes indeed, school was cancelled. "Awesome." I thought. So I called Lukas to share the good news and then went back to bed.
I got up for the second time and meandered down to eat a sort of brunch. Unfortunately, the snow had interrupted the delivery of Krispy Kreme donuts, and just about every other food source. So I had cold cereal.
Now, the problem with snow days is that when school is cancelled there is usually a reason. I found this out as I tried to make my way to the parking garage. Somehow I was under the misconception that snow did not enter parking garages, a notion that was quickly dispelled when I saw the large drift behind my car. Still, I managed to get the car out, and by 11:30 Lukas and I had all our stuff loaded. At this point Mike calls, asking if we want to hang out and watch a movie. Sorry, I tell him; we're headed home. "How are you going to get to St. Louis with the highways closed?" he asked. Uummmmm, I respond.
Since sources varied as to what state exactly the highways were in, we decided we might as well kill a few hours hanging out at Mike's apartment. But I was loath to park the car in the garage again, and wade off campus in sixteen-inch snow. So I came up with the "brilliant" idea to try and park in Trowbridge, the huge field-like parking lot right of campus.
The road into Trowbridge was clear enough, but going through the lanes began to get a bit sticky. I felt very sorry for people whose cars were parked here all night; getting those out would be impossible. But I see a lovely spot that some Jeep or something managed to pull out of, leaving it perfect for me to pull into. Or so I thought.
I head for the spot (only three down in the row) and all of a sudden I'm not going anywhere. I push harder on the gas, and hear the smell of burning rubber. I look at Lukas and Marcus. "Um, I think we're stuck." I had grounded the car on a huge patch of ice and snow.
The boys tried to push the car, with zero success. Lukas suggested just leaving it, and going to Mike's. I flatly refused to leave my lovely car somewhere where it could be hit or towed. So they hiked off to Mike's to see about getting a shovel, while I stayed with Lirael (that's our car's name).
They came back a bit later, plastic bags flapping around their ankles as makeshift boots. Mike and Mark came along to help, and Mike (bless him!) had two ramps to help get the car out. With the five of us (plus two ramps!) we got the car out after about forty minutes.
But the adventure doesn't end there, oh no, not at all. While this saga was unfolding, there were other people attempting similar feats. Some kids in a jeep came and went, but the two guys in this one car were trying with no success during the time we were getting our car out (maybe that's cuz they only had one guy to push, while the other had to steer). The poor guy pushing looked enviously at our ramps, and asked if he could borrow them. So, after we had Lirael safe and sound, we started working on digging their car out. Even with seven of us now (plus the ramps!) it was another hour before we had anything resembling success. Another girl in an SUV offered to tow the car; that only resulting in her getting stuck as well (though she was able to get out after detaching the other car). Then a group of eight more guys showed up, and we practically lifted the car out.
So Lukas and I finally left Columbia at about 2:30, both very tired, cold, and hungry (plus I had the additional burden of feeling stupid). The highways were terrible--covered in snow and ice. We were going about 25 when the speed limit is normally 70. We go about ten miles, and all of a sudden I here this ding! and a message comes up that says "Check tire pressure." With my typical OCD finesse, I completely panicked. I envisioned that we had somehow managed to puncture all four tires; that we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere, etc, etc. The ride to Kingdom City (the next main town, about twenty minutes from Columbia) was grim. When we got there, we stopped a gas station and filled up the car. Of course my credit card's magnetic strip wouldn't work, which is a whole different story. Meanwhile Lukas had called my dad to ask how to check the air pressure in the tire. To make a long story slightly less torturous than what we endured, I had to go back and buy a tire gauge, which proved that, yes, indeed, our tire were low. We eyed the air pump with uncertainty; it was hardly plowed and we had just come from hours stuck in the snow. "Not again," I groaned. We make it to the pump, and it’s frozen solid, of course. The instructions told us to stick it into the tail pipe to warm it up. "That can't be right," I tell Lukas. Of course, my knowledge of exhaust pipes is limited to vague horror stories of carbon monoxide poisoning. We finally get it warmed up, but after "filling" them up, Lukas realizes he didn't do it correctly. So we have to go back into the gas station to clarify. When we come back out: the pump is frozen again. Arrrgg! So we repeat the entire process.
Finally we're back on the road, and starving at this point. We tried stopping at the McDonalds next to the gas station--which was completely closed. Finally, about half an hour down the highway we find an exit with a McDonalds. We exit, and find that all the stoplights are down and police are directing traffic. Could we hit any more bad luck?!?!?
Since I can't torture you all with any more detail (I've had to write this in three sittings), I'll just sum it up by saying that we finally got home, safe and (mostly) sound at 5:30. That's later than it would have been had we had classes. I'm not sure what the moral of this story is; maybe "Lee Anne is a misadventure magnet," "Determination alone will not get your car over sixteen inches of snow, or even " always bring food in the car." Or I could jut leave it open to interpretation.
I got up for the second time and meandered down to eat a sort of brunch. Unfortunately, the snow had interrupted the delivery of Krispy Kreme donuts, and just about every other food source. So I had cold cereal.
Now, the problem with snow days is that when school is cancelled there is usually a reason. I found this out as I tried to make my way to the parking garage. Somehow I was under the misconception that snow did not enter parking garages, a notion that was quickly dispelled when I saw the large drift behind my car. Still, I managed to get the car out, and by 11:30 Lukas and I had all our stuff loaded. At this point Mike calls, asking if we want to hang out and watch a movie. Sorry, I tell him; we're headed home. "How are you going to get to St. Louis with the highways closed?" he asked. Uummmmm, I respond.
Since sources varied as to what state exactly the highways were in, we decided we might as well kill a few hours hanging out at Mike's apartment. But I was loath to park the car in the garage again, and wade off campus in sixteen-inch snow. So I came up with the "brilliant" idea to try and park in Trowbridge, the huge field-like parking lot right of campus.
The road into Trowbridge was clear enough, but going through the lanes began to get a bit sticky. I felt very sorry for people whose cars were parked here all night; getting those out would be impossible. But I see a lovely spot that some Jeep or something managed to pull out of, leaving it perfect for me to pull into. Or so I thought.
I head for the spot (only three down in the row) and all of a sudden I'm not going anywhere. I push harder on the gas, and hear the smell of burning rubber. I look at Lukas and Marcus. "Um, I think we're stuck." I had grounded the car on a huge patch of ice and snow.
The boys tried to push the car, with zero success. Lukas suggested just leaving it, and going to Mike's. I flatly refused to leave my lovely car somewhere where it could be hit or towed. So they hiked off to Mike's to see about getting a shovel, while I stayed with Lirael (that's our car's name).
They came back a bit later, plastic bags flapping around their ankles as makeshift boots. Mike and Mark came along to help, and Mike (bless him!) had two ramps to help get the car out. With the five of us (plus two ramps!) we got the car out after about forty minutes.
But the adventure doesn't end there, oh no, not at all. While this saga was unfolding, there were other people attempting similar feats. Some kids in a jeep came and went, but the two guys in this one car were trying with no success during the time we were getting our car out (maybe that's cuz they only had one guy to push, while the other had to steer). The poor guy pushing looked enviously at our ramps, and asked if he could borrow them. So, after we had Lirael safe and sound, we started working on digging their car out. Even with seven of us now (plus the ramps!) it was another hour before we had anything resembling success. Another girl in an SUV offered to tow the car; that only resulting in her getting stuck as well (though she was able to get out after detaching the other car). Then a group of eight more guys showed up, and we practically lifted the car out.
So Lukas and I finally left Columbia at about 2:30, both very tired, cold, and hungry (plus I had the additional burden of feeling stupid). The highways were terrible--covered in snow and ice. We were going about 25 when the speed limit is normally 70. We go about ten miles, and all of a sudden I here this ding! and a message comes up that says "Check tire pressure." With my typical OCD finesse, I completely panicked. I envisioned that we had somehow managed to puncture all four tires; that we would be stuck in the middle of nowhere, etc, etc. The ride to Kingdom City (the next main town, about twenty minutes from Columbia) was grim. When we got there, we stopped a gas station and filled up the car. Of course my credit card's magnetic strip wouldn't work, which is a whole different story. Meanwhile Lukas had called my dad to ask how to check the air pressure in the tire. To make a long story slightly less torturous than what we endured, I had to go back and buy a tire gauge, which proved that, yes, indeed, our tire were low. We eyed the air pump with uncertainty; it was hardly plowed and we had just come from hours stuck in the snow. "Not again," I groaned. We make it to the pump, and it’s frozen solid, of course. The instructions told us to stick it into the tail pipe to warm it up. "That can't be right," I tell Lukas. Of course, my knowledge of exhaust pipes is limited to vague horror stories of carbon monoxide poisoning. We finally get it warmed up, but after "filling" them up, Lukas realizes he didn't do it correctly. So we have to go back into the gas station to clarify. When we come back out: the pump is frozen again. Arrrgg! So we repeat the entire process.
Finally we're back on the road, and starving at this point. We tried stopping at the McDonalds next to the gas station--which was completely closed. Finally, about half an hour down the highway we find an exit with a McDonalds. We exit, and find that all the stoplights are down and police are directing traffic. Could we hit any more bad luck?!?!?
Since I can't torture you all with any more detail (I've had to write this in three sittings), I'll just sum it up by saying that we finally got home, safe and (mostly) sound at 5:30. That's later than it would have been had we had classes. I'm not sure what the moral of this story is; maybe "Lee Anne is a misadventure magnet," "Determination alone will not get your car over sixteen inches of snow, or even " always bring food in the car." Or I could jut leave it open to interpretation.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Joining the Dinosaurs
Well, I'm back from break, and let me just say that is so positively *wonderful* to be back slogging through classes. If you failed to catch the irony of the last sentence, let me make that even plainer: coming back from thanksgiving break STINKS. Oh well. Seven days of classes plus finals week left. Not that I'm counting or anything.
Thanksgiving break was pretty much the normal state of hecticness that is my life. For that weekend before Thanksgiving, my mom and I flew down to South Carolina to see my grandma. It was good to see her again, and sweet to spend time with her, but sad, too (she has Alzheimer’s). My mom spent the weekend cleaning out her room and closet, and I spent it lugging the tons and tons of trash and junk mail out to the dumpster. Not exactly exciting blog material. (Except for getting creative so that the doors wouldn't lock me out).
Still, one funny thing did happen. One of the evenings, when my mom and I were out getting some food (since her choices are limited because of that terrible no-wheat-celiac-disease-stuff) I begged her to let us stop by Blockbuster and rent a movie or two. "Like, let's get a grown up chick flick" I begged. "Maybe one rated R? Like we can't watch at home?" "Why?" she asked. "Becaaaause," I responded. "We can't watch it at home." Duh.
[Side note: I did NOT want a movie for what I term "icky romance." I wanted a good movie with a higher rating because we can't watch those with my younger sisters, as I'm sure you can guess how well THEY take being left out.]
Like the kind and loving mother she is, my mom agreed. I ran in to Blockbuster, my brain furiously working to figure out what I could find in two minutes (our food was already in the car).
I had one of those moments when it's like the ground positively shifted under my feet.
I mean, seriously, it was one of those times when your frame of reference completely collapses. Aliens walking through the door would have been less surprising.
Because as I looked around, I realized to my horror than every single video was on DVD.
Now, I suppose I should explain. My mom and I were staying in the "independent living" home's guest room. A room that was equipped with one set of silverware, two plates, no glasses, a kettle for decoration only, lots of random and weird trinkets, and a TV and VCR. So, for the first time I needed something on VHS and realized to my shock that they were. . .extinct.
I swear, it was like one of those moments from the movies, where the hero glances around as the camera spins, revealing bad guys emerging from every alleyway. Every single DVD seemed to leap out with unnatural clarity as I searched in vain for a nice, fat, comfortable VHS tape.
So, my mom and I went back and watched a Disney Channel movie. I'm not sure rather to laugh or tear my hair out. The one time away from my little sisters, and I watch their favorite station. Really, life is ironic.
Thanksgiving break was pretty much the normal state of hecticness that is my life. For that weekend before Thanksgiving, my mom and I flew down to South Carolina to see my grandma. It was good to see her again, and sweet to spend time with her, but sad, too (she has Alzheimer’s). My mom spent the weekend cleaning out her room and closet, and I spent it lugging the tons and tons of trash and junk mail out to the dumpster. Not exactly exciting blog material. (Except for getting creative so that the doors wouldn't lock me out).
Still, one funny thing did happen. One of the evenings, when my mom and I were out getting some food (since her choices are limited because of that terrible no-wheat-celiac-disease-stuff) I begged her to let us stop by Blockbuster and rent a movie or two. "Like, let's get a grown up chick flick" I begged. "Maybe one rated R? Like we can't watch at home?" "Why?" she asked. "Becaaaause," I responded. "We can't watch it at home." Duh.
[Side note: I did NOT want a movie for what I term "icky romance." I wanted a good movie with a higher rating because we can't watch those with my younger sisters, as I'm sure you can guess how well THEY take being left out.]
Like the kind and loving mother she is, my mom agreed. I ran in to Blockbuster, my brain furiously working to figure out what I could find in two minutes (our food was already in the car).
I had one of those moments when it's like the ground positively shifted under my feet.
I mean, seriously, it was one of those times when your frame of reference completely collapses. Aliens walking through the door would have been less surprising.
Because as I looked around, I realized to my horror than every single video was on DVD.
Now, I suppose I should explain. My mom and I were staying in the "independent living" home's guest room. A room that was equipped with one set of silverware, two plates, no glasses, a kettle for decoration only, lots of random and weird trinkets, and a TV and VCR. So, for the first time I needed something on VHS and realized to my shock that they were. . .extinct.
I swear, it was like one of those moments from the movies, where the hero glances around as the camera spins, revealing bad guys emerging from every alleyway. Every single DVD seemed to leap out with unnatural clarity as I searched in vain for a nice, fat, comfortable VHS tape.
So, my mom and I went back and watched a Disney Channel movie. I'm not sure rather to laugh or tear my hair out. The one time away from my little sisters, and I watch their favorite station. Really, life is ironic.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Happy Meals and College
I have to say, I think I’ve now lost any remaining dignity that I had. Ordering a Happy Meal hamburger plain on a college campus with no kid in sight is embarrassing enough; having to ask for a different toy is utterly humiliating. Now, I will defend my right to order a Happy Meal no matter what my age is; I like the portion sizes (except for the drink) and somehow it doesn’t feel as wrong still eating plain hamburgers when it’s just a kid’s meal. Plus, they’re a whole lot cheaper.
But it is truly a lowering experience to request a different toy. Now, I may still be childish, child-like, and possibly immature, but it is NOT true that I order Happy Meals for the toys. Usually. As it so happens, if the toy seems decent then I drag it home and give it to Clara. Usually she’s indifferent, occasionally Julia will be impressed (case in point: Yoshi ball-popping figure), but it’s better than throwing it away. (Once, recently, the lady asked me if I wanted a toy. I said no, of course. What, am I supposed to admit to clinging with my every breath to a McDonald’s toy?) Anyhow, last week I found one of the Barbie Twelve Dancing Princesses in my kids meal. Dutifully, I brought it home to Clara.
Rarely has she more surprised me with an outpouring of complete and ecstatic happiness. She squealed in delight and jumped up and down hugging me. Now, even when I BUY her toys, I don’t get that response. Apparently she had so wanted one of those toys, but she hadn’t been taken to McDonalds, and by the time she had, they had moved on to “Flushed Away” toys. Of course I thoroughly enjoyed being the loved older sister, and I basked in her affection.
So, when it came time this week to go back to McDonalds, I ordered a happy meal and hoped fervently for a different princess (after all, there are twelve of them). Imagine my unpleasant shock when I opened the bag and found . . .a hot wheels toy. What to do? The lines were getting long (side note: this McDonalds really does provide “fast food” as they have lines to the door during the between-class rush) and I hated trying to get someone’s attention. Plus, there was that whole issue of a twenty-year-old asking for a Barbie happy meal toy. Embarrassment warred with the ego-boost I’d get from making Clara happy (I really am a very selfish person). I hesitated at the counter for a minute or two, then quickly asked for the toy when one of the workers had half a second. The exchange was made. I left with cheeks flaming, but a sense of accomplishment and triumphant.
Then I went to get a flu shot, and well, that’s a different story entirely.
But it is truly a lowering experience to request a different toy. Now, I may still be childish, child-like, and possibly immature, but it is NOT true that I order Happy Meals for the toys. Usually. As it so happens, if the toy seems decent then I drag it home and give it to Clara. Usually she’s indifferent, occasionally Julia will be impressed (case in point: Yoshi ball-popping figure), but it’s better than throwing it away. (Once, recently, the lady asked me if I wanted a toy. I said no, of course. What, am I supposed to admit to clinging with my every breath to a McDonald’s toy?) Anyhow, last week I found one of the Barbie Twelve Dancing Princesses in my kids meal. Dutifully, I brought it home to Clara.
Rarely has she more surprised me with an outpouring of complete and ecstatic happiness. She squealed in delight and jumped up and down hugging me. Now, even when I BUY her toys, I don’t get that response. Apparently she had so wanted one of those toys, but she hadn’t been taken to McDonalds, and by the time she had, they had moved on to “Flushed Away” toys. Of course I thoroughly enjoyed being the loved older sister, and I basked in her affection.
So, when it came time this week to go back to McDonalds, I ordered a happy meal and hoped fervently for a different princess (after all, there are twelve of them). Imagine my unpleasant shock when I opened the bag and found . . .a hot wheels toy. What to do? The lines were getting long (side note: this McDonalds really does provide “fast food” as they have lines to the door during the between-class rush) and I hated trying to get someone’s attention. Plus, there was that whole issue of a twenty-year-old asking for a Barbie happy meal toy. Embarrassment warred with the ego-boost I’d get from making Clara happy (I really am a very selfish person). I hesitated at the counter for a minute or two, then quickly asked for the toy when one of the workers had half a second. The exchange was made. I left with cheeks flaming, but a sense of accomplishment and triumphant.
Then I went to get a flu shot, and well, that’s a different story entirely.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Rain, Tea, Muffins, and Emma
On Saturday, Lukas, Marcus, Arianna (a freshman who lives a floor below us), and I all met for lunch and went to Wal-Mart (it's sad when that's the only thing exciting in your whole week). It was pretty much your average shopping trip, except that it was raining steadily. I was (of course) the only one with an umbrella. It's a very cute umbrella: it's medium pink, with flowers and cherries on it--but NOT garish--it was a Brighton gift with purchase (okay, so technically it's my mom's, but she's quite generous). It's also one of those one-person umbrellas: so of course Arianna and I shared it. The boys, Lukas especially, were most infuriating. He had the gall to insist that it wasn't even raining. I beg your pardon, but when one can see raindrops falling for the sky quite continuously in all directions, my understanding is that it is, indeed, raining. Granted, it was not pouring, but it was more substantial than a drizzle, which is the definition of raining, in my opinion.
After going to Wal-Mart, we had just gotten back when it was time to go over to Mike's to watch Emma. I have to say, it's quite funny watching a chick flick (or a chick classic?) with only guys. Lukas had seen most of the movie before, Marcus had read the book (but not seen the movie) and Mike didn't know any of it. Anyhow, a raining Saturday afternoon is the perfect time to watch a Jane Austen movie and knit, which I proceeded to do until Lukas made me turn out the light because of the glare. Mike, who's quite the cook, had made bran muffins from scratch, and they were very delicious. We he suggested tea a few minutes later, of course we took him up on the offer.
This is where the real fun begins. Mike didn't have any mugs, so my tea was in a glass cup, Lukas' was in some random drink container, and Marcus--get this--had to drink out of a crystal gravy boat. It was quite a humorous situation, considering that Marcus had never had tea before (I know you're all gasping in horror), we were all advising him about whether he should add sugar or honey, the importance of adding milk to english breakfast tea (but NOT to fruit teas), and asking him how it was. Of course, as he's never had tea before he couldn't quite answer our inquiries as to whether he needed more sugar, etc.
The best part was when we got back and unpaused the movie. I had remarked to Mike how perfect tea and muffins were for watching Emma, and he responded with his typical surprised response of "Really?/." sounding quite pleased. And no sooner did we unpause the movie, than the next line was "I think we should stop for some tea." LOL, you should have seen our faces. It was such an awesome moment. I love Jane Austen. And tea. And muffins. And friends. And even brothers.
After going to Wal-Mart, we had just gotten back when it was time to go over to Mike's to watch Emma. I have to say, it's quite funny watching a chick flick (or a chick classic?) with only guys. Lukas had seen most of the movie before, Marcus had read the book (but not seen the movie) and Mike didn't know any of it. Anyhow, a raining Saturday afternoon is the perfect time to watch a Jane Austen movie and knit, which I proceeded to do until Lukas made me turn out the light because of the glare. Mike, who's quite the cook, had made bran muffins from scratch, and they were very delicious. We he suggested tea a few minutes later, of course we took him up on the offer.
This is where the real fun begins. Mike didn't have any mugs, so my tea was in a glass cup, Lukas' was in some random drink container, and Marcus--get this--had to drink out of a crystal gravy boat. It was quite a humorous situation, considering that Marcus had never had tea before (I know you're all gasping in horror), we were all advising him about whether he should add sugar or honey, the importance of adding milk to english breakfast tea (but NOT to fruit teas), and asking him how it was. Of course, as he's never had tea before he couldn't quite answer our inquiries as to whether he needed more sugar, etc.
The best part was when we got back and unpaused the movie. I had remarked to Mike how perfect tea and muffins were for watching Emma, and he responded with his typical surprised response of "Really?/." sounding quite pleased. And no sooner did we unpause the movie, than the next line was "I think we should stop for some tea." LOL, you should have seen our faces. It was such an awesome moment. I love Jane Austen. And tea. And muffins. And friends. And even brothers.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Oh, the lovely J-school (sarcasm dripping)
Hmmm. . . so much (and yet less than nothing) has happened. Right now I can't even remember half the things I meant to post on here, and so much of that is obsolete already anyway. Let's see. . .
This week has been the j-school-takeover-of-my-life-week. In addition to regularly scheduled classes, we were sent on TWO fieldtrips. Class meets MWF, but we were made to clear our schedules on Tuesday from 3-5 and Thursday from 5-7 (not including traveling time), drop everything else, and go running at the j-school's beck and call. Not to mention that a) they expected us to get to these places ourselves b) didn't deign to give us directions, and c) told us to find our own transportation. GRRRR! I know several classmates who had to get out of other classes twice in the same week (wince) just to make it to the stupid visits to the Missourian and KOMU. What's more, our teacher showed up, left a sheet for attendance, and then went to his own classes! (he's a grad student) It's so insane!
The Missourian visit was completely pointless anyway. Almost all of us (if not all) had already had the tour when we visit campus, and the people were too busy trying to actually put out the newspaper to really show us around. We sat in on their budget meeting (what stories are going where), which was way too small of a room to accommodate us anyway. Then we were shoved from one student guide to another, most of which were only two happy to find someone else to take care of us. All in all a pointless waste of time and general disaster.
The visit to KOMU (the campus owned NBC affiliate TV station) went a little better (but not much). Kate and I decided to carpool, and headed off (with her driving, thank goodness) in what we assumed was the right direction. Thankfully we found it, but as soon as we saw the station we turned too soon, and ended up on a one lane road with cows. We had to turn around, go across the highway again, and take the next turn. Once again our teacher announced that he had somewhere to be, and left. Only two of the class were broadcast students, so for most of us it was pointless anyway. Our student guide (poor guy) had never given a tour before, so overall he did a good job. Only none of us cared to be there, and he kept asking if we had any questions, as we looked at him bleary eyed and wished to go home. We got there at 5, and were going to sit in on the 6 o'clock news, so he had an hour to kill. Unfortunately there was not that much to say. So we someone new came in halfway through he decided to start all over again (groan).
Sitting in on the actual news was interesting--for the first five minutes. The newsroom is actually very small; the anchor's desk is really tiny, and the weather stuff is all in this side corner and parallel wall. It's like four mini corner rooms in one. The three cameras-robot things are fully automated; they move around by themselves for each shoot. So one just takes off and moves across the room when it's time for weather. We (the 20 of us) were all given those plastic lawn chairs and sat (mostly) out of the way. Some people had to move when the sports section was up, because that's on the back wall close to where we were sitting. They didn't even bother to tell us to be quiet, just assumed we knew it (foolish on their part, I say). The red light just goes on, and then all you can hear is the anchors' talking. We they cut to a video clip or commercial, that's heard and shown on a TV, but it's weird because you can see the anchors, in person and on the screen, but only hear the sound from their actual voices. I'm not making any sense, am I? Anyhow, the whole time I was terrified that I'd drop something or sneeze. Not to mention being hungry and tired. And now, I was going to go home this weekend, but nooooo. We have to do a video interview with a partner, and they gave us the cameras on Friday and want them back Monday. And all this is for one three hour class!!!!! It's insane, I tell you.
This week has been the j-school-takeover-of-my-life-week. In addition to regularly scheduled classes, we were sent on TWO fieldtrips. Class meets MWF, but we were made to clear our schedules on Tuesday from 3-5 and Thursday from 5-7 (not including traveling time), drop everything else, and go running at the j-school's beck and call. Not to mention that a) they expected us to get to these places ourselves b) didn't deign to give us directions, and c) told us to find our own transportation. GRRRR! I know several classmates who had to get out of other classes twice in the same week (wince) just to make it to the stupid visits to the Missourian and KOMU. What's more, our teacher showed up, left a sheet for attendance, and then went to his own classes! (he's a grad student) It's so insane!
The Missourian visit was completely pointless anyway. Almost all of us (if not all) had already had the tour when we visit campus, and the people were too busy trying to actually put out the newspaper to really show us around. We sat in on their budget meeting (what stories are going where), which was way too small of a room to accommodate us anyway. Then we were shoved from one student guide to another, most of which were only two happy to find someone else to take care of us. All in all a pointless waste of time and general disaster.
The visit to KOMU (the campus owned NBC affiliate TV station) went a little better (but not much). Kate and I decided to carpool, and headed off (with her driving, thank goodness) in what we assumed was the right direction. Thankfully we found it, but as soon as we saw the station we turned too soon, and ended up on a one lane road with cows. We had to turn around, go across the highway again, and take the next turn. Once again our teacher announced that he had somewhere to be, and left. Only two of the class were broadcast students, so for most of us it was pointless anyway. Our student guide (poor guy) had never given a tour before, so overall he did a good job. Only none of us cared to be there, and he kept asking if we had any questions, as we looked at him bleary eyed and wished to go home. We got there at 5, and were going to sit in on the 6 o'clock news, so he had an hour to kill. Unfortunately there was not that much to say. So we someone new came in halfway through he decided to start all over again (groan).
Sitting in on the actual news was interesting--for the first five minutes. The newsroom is actually very small; the anchor's desk is really tiny, and the weather stuff is all in this side corner and parallel wall. It's like four mini corner rooms in one. The three cameras-robot things are fully automated; they move around by themselves for each shoot. So one just takes off and moves across the room when it's time for weather. We (the 20 of us) were all given those plastic lawn chairs and sat (mostly) out of the way. Some people had to move when the sports section was up, because that's on the back wall close to where we were sitting. They didn't even bother to tell us to be quiet, just assumed we knew it (foolish on their part, I say). The red light just goes on, and then all you can hear is the anchors' talking. We they cut to a video clip or commercial, that's heard and shown on a TV, but it's weird because you can see the anchors, in person and on the screen, but only hear the sound from their actual voices. I'm not making any sense, am I? Anyhow, the whole time I was terrified that I'd drop something or sneeze. Not to mention being hungry and tired. And now, I was going to go home this weekend, but nooooo. We have to do a video interview with a partner, and they gave us the cameras on Friday and want them back Monday. And all this is for one three hour class!!!!! It's insane, I tell you.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Dark M&Ms and Zombie Nights
I have just made ( to use one of Kaelen's words) the most splendiferous discovery. I was at the Mizzou bookstore, looking at the candy isle (it was an island, after all) when I saw a purple wrapper on the bottom shelf. Looking closer, it proved to be (drum roll please)--DARK CHOCOLATE M&MS!!!!!!!! Aaaahhhh, heaven. I can't ever begin to describe how ecstatic I was (then again, if you know me you can probably guess). Mmmmm. Needless to say, I have had the most delicious week.
Last Tuesday was Lukas' birthday, and to celebrate that evening we played one of his new boardgames, Mall of Horror, and watched The Mummy, which Luke D. and Lindsay had never seen before. The game was actually quite fun, despite the gruesome cover and slogan "chop till you drop." Each player has 3 characters, and you are all stuck in a mall with Zombies attacking. The game ends when only 4 characters are left (or six in a six player game). Whichever player's characters are worth the most wins. So basically you want to put yourself in a position where the Zombies won't get you but instead will get the other players. We played it again twice last night (by "we" I mean Lukas, Luke, Marcus, Mark, Jason, and myself). I won both times (slightly superior smirk). The second time I had all three of my characters left! (Of course, that could be because Luke and Lukas formed a powerful alliance which eventually made us so mad that everyone obliterated them).
Right now I'm trying to steel myself to write a lovely journalism paper that is due tomorrow. >:( I so dislike the J-school.
Last Tuesday was Lukas' birthday, and to celebrate that evening we played one of his new boardgames, Mall of Horror, and watched The Mummy, which Luke D. and Lindsay had never seen before. The game was actually quite fun, despite the gruesome cover and slogan "chop till you drop." Each player has 3 characters, and you are all stuck in a mall with Zombies attacking. The game ends when only 4 characters are left (or six in a six player game). Whichever player's characters are worth the most wins. So basically you want to put yourself in a position where the Zombies won't get you but instead will get the other players. We played it again twice last night (by "we" I mean Lukas, Luke, Marcus, Mark, Jason, and myself). I won both times (slightly superior smirk). The second time I had all three of my characters left! (Of course, that could be because Luke and Lukas formed a powerful alliance which eventually made us so mad that everyone obliterated them).
Right now I'm trying to steel myself to write a lovely journalism paper that is due tomorrow. >:( I so dislike the J-school.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Illusions
Well, my obsession of the past two weeks has been the movie The Illusionist, about which all I can say is GO SEE IT and don't read any reviews of it first. Trust me on this one. :) On a similar note, I've been thinking about some of the illusions I've had that have been shattered already this year.
Illusion #1: Dining hall food may not be great, but at least it's edible
Reality: One of my friends found a bug in her noodles. Ugh! So much for "decent."
Illusion #2: It's the beginning of the 4th week of class, and there hasn't been a fire alarm drill. Maybe I missed it!
Reality: The siren will go off two minutes after you get back Sunday night.
Illusion #3: Doing your work ahead of time pays off
Reality: You'll go to find that paper you wrote two weeks ago, only to open the document and find only the title and first sentence. Because you wrote it two weeks ago, you can't even look it up "recent documents" for any other drafts. You also returned the textbook and the bookstore is closed. Panicking, you'll email your T.A., and then find the search bar on your computer, bringing up the real document, which somehow ended up with a journalism name for a history paper. Seriously. Working ahead isn't worth the drama.
Illusion #4: It's a good idea to clean out your refrigerator.
Reality: My mom cleaned out the refrigerator this past Thursday, and Lukas and I were completely shocked by a) the shininess b) the cleanness and c) the emptiness. "Wait! There's no FOOD!" we wailed. But the real lesson was still to come. My parents, Lukas, and I were all in the dining room playing Princes of Florence, when Clara waltzes in proclaiming, "Guess what? I climbed in the refrigerator and closed the door!" We stared openmouthed for a second, alternating between shock, worry, fear, and hilarity. "How'd you get in?" "And how in the world did you get out?" "Wait, you fit in there?" "Oh great, now I've got to sanitize the whole thing." Aaargh. The joy of little sisters. Honestly, that girl scares me to death. My mom and I agreed that we'd count it as a success if we manage to just keep Clara alive. So, beware: don't clean out your refrigerator.
Illusion #1: Dining hall food may not be great, but at least it's edible
Reality: One of my friends found a bug in her noodles. Ugh! So much for "decent."
Illusion #2: It's the beginning of the 4th week of class, and there hasn't been a fire alarm drill. Maybe I missed it!
Reality: The siren will go off two minutes after you get back Sunday night.
Illusion #3: Doing your work ahead of time pays off
Reality: You'll go to find that paper you wrote two weeks ago, only to open the document and find only the title and first sentence. Because you wrote it two weeks ago, you can't even look it up "recent documents" for any other drafts. You also returned the textbook and the bookstore is closed. Panicking, you'll email your T.A., and then find the search bar on your computer, bringing up the real document, which somehow ended up with a journalism name for a history paper. Seriously. Working ahead isn't worth the drama.
Illusion #4: It's a good idea to clean out your refrigerator.
Reality: My mom cleaned out the refrigerator this past Thursday, and Lukas and I were completely shocked by a) the shininess b) the cleanness and c) the emptiness. "Wait! There's no FOOD!" we wailed. But the real lesson was still to come. My parents, Lukas, and I were all in the dining room playing Princes of Florence, when Clara waltzes in proclaiming, "Guess what? I climbed in the refrigerator and closed the door!" We stared openmouthed for a second, alternating between shock, worry, fear, and hilarity. "How'd you get in?" "And how in the world did you get out?" "Wait, you fit in there?" "Oh great, now I've got to sanitize the whole thing." Aaargh. The joy of little sisters. Honestly, that girl scares me to death. My mom and I agreed that we'd count it as a success if we manage to just keep Clara alive. So, beware: don't clean out your refrigerator.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Keyed Up
Well, my blog seems to be having some issues lately, so hopefully someone will be able to read this. To those of you who can't read this, you might want to try re-saving it to your favorites. (This advice is completely worthless, since if you can read this, you don't need to.)
Despite feeling all alone, my faithful bloggers separated by the huge and unforgiving realm of internet errors, I am actually quite happy. Hmm, let me rephrase that. Despite lack of sleep, a predominance of journalism classes and Bio readings, and a tendency to forget myself playing FreeCell, I am enjoying a fairly satisfactory time at college. Don't despair, however, readers (or non-readers, as the case may be). I am still having quite the usual numbers of misadventures, misdirections, and general mix-ups.*
After a first week of school that dragged on and on and on and on and on, I was looking forward with great anticipation to the weekend. Most of it was filled with the inevitable school assignments, but I did have a chance to watch two movies with my roommate and brother. The first was The Skeleton Key (hence the first “key” event of the weekend). It was creepy (okay, so I don’t do even slightly scary movies well), and even though Luke D. and I saw most the plot lines coming, we still were surprised by the ending. It’s rare that a movie can catch you off guard, but this one did. Even though almost all our guesses were correct. And the atmosphere still managed to be chilling, even with Lukas and Luke making fun of it. Their sarcasm was only slightly dampened by the glares Ginny and I threw their way, but then again it was too dark for them to really see them.
The other movie that we watched was Tristan + Isolde, which I am not going to discuss here, except to say that the best part was when King Mark is arguing with Melot in the background and says “I’m SICK of your moaning!” LOL, some things never change.
Now, some of you may know of my history with trying to lock/unlock doors. For specific instances, I will only bring to mind three.
1) In Spain, none of us could ever unlock the hotel doors in Madrid (they would have confounded Houdini himself). We actually had to ask for help from the man at the front desk and get him to unlock it for us. (Except for Lukas and Jim. They had to get help because they had actually looked their keys in the room.)
2) This summer, Lukas and I (and Julia and Max and Clara) came back earlier than my parents from something, only to realize that we couldn’t get into the house. After an hour of waiting, leaving, coming back, and still waiting for them, it turns out we had a key all along. The lock just sticks.
3) The locks in Scotland are worse than the locks in Madrid. Nuff said.
So it must come as no surprise that my college dorm room has a temperamental lock. For starters, unlocking/locking the door is always the reverse of what one would expect. This confusion would eventually go away, were it not confounded with other problems. The lock hates us, and sticks all the time. Apparently the keys hate us too, for Ginny managed to lose hers. After going down to dinner one day, we returned to find that we could not open the door with my key. Several minutes of trying everything (including hitting the door and begging) produced no result. Finally it opened, and we realized that with it sticking AND being reversed, we were confusing locked and unlocked.
Hopefully these tales of woe will teach you a lesson. It is too late for me, but perhaps I can still save someone else. Never, ever get on the bad side of locks (seriously, I must have horribly offended them by chewing on plastic keys as a baby), and make sure you have your AAA card with you at all times. And a cell phone.
*If you notice some differences in my style, I must excuse it on the basis of time spent with a new friend, Amelia Peabody. I have been happily enthralled listening to her adventures, and some of her tone seems to have rubbed off on me. (If you have never had the opportunity to be acquainted with Ms. Peabody, I strongly recommend the friendship. You can find her memoirs at your local library or bookstore under the aegis of Elizabeth Peters.)
Despite feeling all alone, my faithful bloggers separated by the huge and unforgiving realm of internet errors, I am actually quite happy. Hmm, let me rephrase that. Despite lack of sleep, a predominance of journalism classes and Bio readings, and a tendency to forget myself playing FreeCell, I am enjoying a fairly satisfactory time at college. Don't despair, however, readers (or non-readers, as the case may be). I am still having quite the usual numbers of misadventures, misdirections, and general mix-ups.*
After a first week of school that dragged on and on and on and on and on, I was looking forward with great anticipation to the weekend. Most of it was filled with the inevitable school assignments, but I did have a chance to watch two movies with my roommate and brother. The first was The Skeleton Key (hence the first “key” event of the weekend). It was creepy (okay, so I don’t do even slightly scary movies well), and even though Luke D. and I saw most the plot lines coming, we still were surprised by the ending. It’s rare that a movie can catch you off guard, but this one did. Even though almost all our guesses were correct. And the atmosphere still managed to be chilling, even with Lukas and Luke making fun of it. Their sarcasm was only slightly dampened by the glares Ginny and I threw their way, but then again it was too dark for them to really see them.
The other movie that we watched was Tristan + Isolde, which I am not going to discuss here, except to say that the best part was when King Mark is arguing with Melot in the background and says “I’m SICK of your moaning!” LOL, some things never change.
Now, some of you may know of my history with trying to lock/unlock doors. For specific instances, I will only bring to mind three.
1) In Spain, none of us could ever unlock the hotel doors in Madrid (they would have confounded Houdini himself). We actually had to ask for help from the man at the front desk and get him to unlock it for us. (Except for Lukas and Jim. They had to get help because they had actually looked their keys in the room.)
2) This summer, Lukas and I (and Julia and Max and Clara) came back earlier than my parents from something, only to realize that we couldn’t get into the house. After an hour of waiting, leaving, coming back, and still waiting for them, it turns out we had a key all along. The lock just sticks.
3) The locks in Scotland are worse than the locks in Madrid. Nuff said.
So it must come as no surprise that my college dorm room has a temperamental lock. For starters, unlocking/locking the door is always the reverse of what one would expect. This confusion would eventually go away, were it not confounded with other problems. The lock hates us, and sticks all the time. Apparently the keys hate us too, for Ginny managed to lose hers. After going down to dinner one day, we returned to find that we could not open the door with my key. Several minutes of trying everything (including hitting the door and begging) produced no result. Finally it opened, and we realized that with it sticking AND being reversed, we were confusing locked and unlocked.
Hopefully these tales of woe will teach you a lesson. It is too late for me, but perhaps I can still save someone else. Never, ever get on the bad side of locks (seriously, I must have horribly offended them by chewing on plastic keys as a baby), and make sure you have your AAA card with you at all times. And a cell phone.
*If you notice some differences in my style, I must excuse it on the basis of time spent with a new friend, Amelia Peabody. I have been happily enthralled listening to her adventures, and some of her tone seems to have rubbed off on me. (If you have never had the opportunity to be acquainted with Ms. Peabody, I strongly recommend the friendship. You can find her memoirs at your local library or bookstore under the aegis of Elizabeth Peters.)
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
A Teenager No Longer
Well, I meant for my next post to be more about Scotland, but since I am a horrible procrastinator, I figured I should just jump back to the present and catch up when I have time (haha). Today is my 20th birthday! Weird. I'd be . . .like. . .on the shelf (in a regency novel). Or maybe that's 21. I just cannot think of a better way to spend my birthday than running back and forth to class in the heat, dripping sweat (and sarcasm). Oh well; at least I stopped at the poster sale and got a new LOST poster for my room. :)
So far my classes seem pretty normal; I have the intensive class (Spanish every day), the boring class (Bio 1010), the very boring class (News 2100), the fun class (19th Century British Women Writers), and the so-easy-it's-an-insult-to-my-intelligence class (Am History). I just had American history today, and got a chance to look at the syllabus. The only assignment for the entire semester is one four to five page (double spaced) paper. I feel like I'm back in kindergarten (except I never actually went to kindergarten). I think I almost laughed out loud when I saw that. I suppose I could/should switch to the Honors section. . .or I could use the free time to get a job. Or just read more fiction books.
Overall my new roommate and I are getting along well. She talks (if possible) more than I do. It's somewhat exhausting. Still, we're having a pretty good time together. I could use prayer, though. She's a Deist, and something of a skeptic, but she did go with me to the RUF picnic last night. Also last night we spent over two hours taking "which character would you be" personality tests (not my fault--she started it (even if I was an active participant)). Apparently I'm most like the monkey from Pirates of the Caribbean. :P She says I'll never live that one down. Makes you wonder what depths I’m really hiding. . .heehee
So far my classes seem pretty normal; I have the intensive class (Spanish every day), the boring class (Bio 1010), the very boring class (News 2100), the fun class (19th Century British Women Writers), and the so-easy-it's-an-insult-to-my-intelligence class (Am History). I just had American history today, and got a chance to look at the syllabus. The only assignment for the entire semester is one four to five page (double spaced) paper. I feel like I'm back in kindergarten (except I never actually went to kindergarten). I think I almost laughed out loud when I saw that. I suppose I could/should switch to the Honors section. . .or I could use the free time to get a job. Or just read more fiction books.
Overall my new roommate and I are getting along well. She talks (if possible) more than I do. It's somewhat exhausting. Still, we're having a pretty good time together. I could use prayer, though. She's a Deist, and something of a skeptic, but she did go with me to the RUF picnic last night. Also last night we spent over two hours taking "which character would you be" personality tests (not my fault--she started it (even if I was an active participant)). Apparently I'm most like the monkey from Pirates of the Caribbean. :P She says I'll never live that one down. Makes you wonder what depths I’m really hiding. . .heehee
Friday, July 21, 2006
Culloden
Yesterday I stood upon the battlefield of Culloden.
It was a nice warm day--unseasonably warm, in fact. There was a nice breeze (as always), the panoramic view was lovely, and the cars made soft swooshing sounds as they drove by. All around me stretched a three-foot high jungle of brush, thistles, and generally tangled and prickly plants. I was standing on the spot of one of the most famous and bloody Scottish battles, surrounded by the sounds of tourists laughing. I couldn't help but thing how wrong it all was.
Where were the specters of ghostly warriors? Where was the chill fog blowing off the barrows? I wanted to close my eyes and see, overwhelming the present light atmosphere, the sight of two armies arrayed for battle. I wanted to kneel at the stone where a brave Scottish captain died and, just for a moment, mourn the keening loss of that life. I wanted to be jolted out of my apathy, to feel—what? anything else: horror, grief, the weight of history pressing upon me.
Even as I went through the motions of a sightseer (snap a picture; pause, read a signpost; meander on), I wanted my cold, selfish heart to break with the tragedy of this place. Or maybe even that was selfish. Maybe all I really wanted was to have an experience; to feel the ghostly fingers of the past brush my shoulder for a moment; giving me a vision, setting me apart.
Yesterday I stood upon the battlefield of Culloden, and it failed to touch my spirit. I walked off the field, excited at the prospect of a gift shop.
It was a nice warm day--unseasonably warm, in fact. There was a nice breeze (as always), the panoramic view was lovely, and the cars made soft swooshing sounds as they drove by. All around me stretched a three-foot high jungle of brush, thistles, and generally tangled and prickly plants. I was standing on the spot of one of the most famous and bloody Scottish battles, surrounded by the sounds of tourists laughing. I couldn't help but thing how wrong it all was.
Where were the specters of ghostly warriors? Where was the chill fog blowing off the barrows? I wanted to close my eyes and see, overwhelming the present light atmosphere, the sight of two armies arrayed for battle. I wanted to kneel at the stone where a brave Scottish captain died and, just for a moment, mourn the keening loss of that life. I wanted to be jolted out of my apathy, to feel—what? anything else: horror, grief, the weight of history pressing upon me.
Even as I went through the motions of a sightseer (snap a picture; pause, read a signpost; meander on), I wanted my cold, selfish heart to break with the tragedy of this place. Or maybe even that was selfish. Maybe all I really wanted was to have an experience; to feel the ghostly fingers of the past brush my shoulder for a moment; giving me a vision, setting me apart.
Yesterday I stood upon the battlefield of Culloden, and it failed to touch my spirit. I walked off the field, excited at the prospect of a gift shop.
Monday, May 08, 2006
End-of-the-year awards
Apart from finals (and 3 science papers), my freshman year is over. So I wanted to do kind of a fun wrap-up of some of my new favorite and least favorite things. Well, and I'm trying to avoid those science papers.
Best Part of College: Swiping My Student Card Everywhere
Worst Part of College: Bad Weather
Best Dining Hall Meal: Grilled Cheese and Vanilla Coke
Least Favorite Things: Fire Alarms and Tornados
Favorite New Item: My Watercolor Colored Pencils
Least Favorite Accusation: "Eowyn is a gold digger"
Favorite New Book: The Hollow Kingdom by Clare B. Dunkle
Least Favorite Book: Microcosmos
Favorite New Authors: Sharon Shinn, Patricia Briggs
Least Favorite Campus Buildings: Geology, all the J-buildings, Middlebush (all far away)
Favorite Campus building: Conservation (closeness)
Favorite New Singer: Loreena McKennitt
Best Part of Having a Mac: itunes; Expose
Worst Part of Having a Mac: Lack of games; Windows-based Discrimination
Best Part of College: Swiping My Student Card Everywhere
Worst Part of College: Bad Weather
Best Dining Hall Meal: Grilled Cheese and Vanilla Coke
Least Favorite Things: Fire Alarms and Tornados
Favorite New Item: My Watercolor Colored Pencils
Least Favorite Accusation: "Eowyn is a gold digger"
Favorite New Book: The Hollow Kingdom by Clare B. Dunkle
Least Favorite Book: Microcosmos
Favorite New Authors: Sharon Shinn, Patricia Briggs
Least Favorite Campus Buildings: Geology, all the J-buildings, Middlebush (all far away)
Favorite Campus building: Conservation (closeness)
Favorite New Singer: Loreena McKennitt
Best Part of Having a Mac: itunes; Expose
Worst Part of Having a Mac: Lack of games; Windows-based Discrimination
Saturday, May 06, 2006
How to tell if you're a college student (bonus: do you go to Mizzou?)
8 Ways to tell you're a college student (or at least think like one)
1.You believe that pedestrians have the right to cross at any time and any in any place they desire (with or without crosswalk)--unless you're the one driving
2. You know that teacher evaluations are there merely to create a façade of student empowerment
3. Naps and pizza at midnight are not deviance, but social norms
4. You brave weather to get to class that Columbus, Magellan, or even a postman would quail at
5. Facebook is not a site, it's a way of life
6. You think that ipods are natural appendages of the body
7. You eat all your meals at a dining hall
8. You follow any flyer that promised to lead to "free food"
Are you at Mizzou? Five easy ways to find out
1. You can't walk to class without seeing someone setting up a newscast
(aka journalists to people ratio : 14 to 1)
2. You not only have your school song, chant, and mascot, but your own ice cream flavor
3. Kansas= Nemesis
4. The campus library is a labyrinth
5. You are standing next to a sign that says "University of Missouri Columbia"
1.You believe that pedestrians have the right to cross at any time and any in any place they desire (with or without crosswalk)--unless you're the one driving
2. You know that teacher evaluations are there merely to create a façade of student empowerment
3. Naps and pizza at midnight are not deviance, but social norms
4. You brave weather to get to class that Columbus, Magellan, or even a postman would quail at
5. Facebook is not a site, it's a way of life
6. You think that ipods are natural appendages of the body
7. You eat all your meals at a dining hall
8. You follow any flyer that promised to lead to "free food"
Are you at Mizzou? Five easy ways to find out
1. You can't walk to class without seeing someone setting up a newscast
(aka journalists to people ratio : 14 to 1)
2. You not only have your school song, chant, and mascot, but your own ice cream flavor
3. Kansas= Nemesis
4. The campus library is a labyrinth
5. You are standing next to a sign that says "University of Missouri Columbia"
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Rain and Beleriand
Today it was raining all morning. Not just drizzling, but really raining. The cobbles and sidewalks of Mizzou are obviously not prepared to deal with a downpour of this magnitude (I know, I know: it's Missouri; they should be used to it) and turned everything into a lake-marshland-pond-area. All the pollen stuff that they trees have been dropping make very convincing algae, too. I had carefully wrapped my backpack in my raincoat before slinging it onto my back, so the priceless artifacts inside (read: LotR dvds to return to a friend) were safe. But even with these precautionary measures, and my small but cheery brighton pink umbrella, my shoes, socks, and bottom half of my capris were soaked by Econ class. So I trudged around all day in wet socks. Just what a person recovering from an ear/sinus infection needs.
On a more happy note, on thursday my Tolkien class is putting on an impromptu play from a script that a local highschool student wrote-- based on the Tolkien story Of Beren and Luthien (or the Lay of Leithien, or whatever name you want to call it). Apparently he is quite thrilled that college students will be performing his play, even if it is just in class and without any run-throughs. I am totally excited (even if I'm just playing the queen and have 3 lines) and I'm already thinking ahead to a yearly Tolkien Extravaganza in which we make it into a real play. Actually, I'm already planning for a movie deal, if you're interested. ;) I'm very excited to met this guy; finally a captive audience for me to recite the hour of Beren and Luthien stuff that I have memorized (evil grin). On another happy note, I won the little campus dining writing contest, and I now have a $300 gift card for next year. Sweetarts here I come!
So, yeah, things are wrapping up fairly nicely around here. Except for that dreaded Word-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named.
On a more happy note, on thursday my Tolkien class is putting on an impromptu play from a script that a local highschool student wrote-- based on the Tolkien story Of Beren and Luthien (or the Lay of Leithien, or whatever name you want to call it). Apparently he is quite thrilled that college students will be performing his play, even if it is just in class and without any run-throughs. I am totally excited (even if I'm just playing the queen and have 3 lines) and I'm already thinking ahead to a yearly Tolkien Extravaganza in which we make it into a real play. Actually, I'm already planning for a movie deal, if you're interested. ;) I'm very excited to met this guy; finally a captive audience for me to recite the hour of Beren and Luthien stuff that I have memorized (evil grin). On another happy note, I won the little campus dining writing contest, and I now have a $300 gift card for next year. Sweetarts here I come!
So, yeah, things are wrapping up fairly nicely around here. Except for that dreaded Word-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Sick
Ugh! [I cough, groan, and curl into a ball] I hate being sick. Yesterday after church I was at Walmart, getting some absolutely necessary supplies for a science project, and waiting on a bench for my friend to get out of late service and come pick me up. I had only had five hours sleep, and I had a headache, so I was not feeling the best. I remember that I forgot to get the glue, so I go back inside to buy it, and I start to feel dizzy. As I wait in line, there is a problem with the checkout in front of me, and as it goes on and on I feel like I'm going to pass out. When it's my turn, I slap down the glue (proud of myself for staying upright) and fumbling throw 3 dollars down. The cashier asks me if I have two pennies. Do I have two pennies? I can't even see my purse. I'm going to fall over and you want me to find some pennies? I manage to buy the glue and I rush to my bench, feeling horrendous. I second later I think I'm going to throw up. So I rush back through the store to the bathroom. I'm going to pass out on a wallmart floor. I can't believe this. I feel less nauseous after I get there, but now I'm all trembly. My face in the mirror is so white that my lips look bright red, even though I know they are cracked and dry.
My friend shows up after another half hour. We try to go to the student heath clinic, but it's closed on the weekends. I don't want to go to the emergency room, so she drops me off at my dorm. For the next few hours I toss restlessly in bed, calling home and telling my mom it's okay; she doesn't have to come up. Finally at four o'clock my mom convinces me to find someone to drive me to a clinic downtown that's open til five. Jason gets his car and drives me, and, after going the wrong way on Providence, we finally get there.
Then it's a lot of filling out forms, etc. The doctor comes in to see me, and does all that normal doctor-y stuff, asks me questions, etc. He makes me get up and try to walk putting one foot heal to toe in front of the other one. He tells me to hold my hands out, close my eyes, and touch my finger to my nose. I sit back down and wait breathless to see what he'll say (well, yeah.,. cuz breathing hurts). I'm almost afraid that they're is nothing wrong with me; that I've dragged everyone on a wild goose chase for nothing. Then the doctor says "You've got a sinus and ear infection" and goes on to explain to be how that throws my balance off, etc. Ohhh I think, I never would have guessed that. So he writes me a prescription, and off I go, dragging poor Jason to Walgreens. That took like 40 min (I miss my Kaye Pharmacy). But to end this sad tale of woe, I'm now on 3 different medicines: Meclizine (take three times a day), Amoxicillin (twice a day) and 12 hour Sudafed. Which I'm sure is more information than you ever wanted to know about my sickness. So, yeah, I’m still feeling miserable, but at least not as bad as yesterday morning; thanks to my mom's insistence that I take care of things right away. The road to recovery may not be fun, but at least it's better than staying in Sicktown.
My friend shows up after another half hour. We try to go to the student heath clinic, but it's closed on the weekends. I don't want to go to the emergency room, so she drops me off at my dorm. For the next few hours I toss restlessly in bed, calling home and telling my mom it's okay; she doesn't have to come up. Finally at four o'clock my mom convinces me to find someone to drive me to a clinic downtown that's open til five. Jason gets his car and drives me, and, after going the wrong way on Providence, we finally get there.
Then it's a lot of filling out forms, etc. The doctor comes in to see me, and does all that normal doctor-y stuff, asks me questions, etc. He makes me get up and try to walk putting one foot heal to toe in front of the other one. He tells me to hold my hands out, close my eyes, and touch my finger to my nose. I sit back down and wait breathless to see what he'll say (well, yeah.,. cuz breathing hurts). I'm almost afraid that they're is nothing wrong with me; that I've dragged everyone on a wild goose chase for nothing. Then the doctor says "You've got a sinus and ear infection" and goes on to explain to be how that throws my balance off, etc. Ohhh I think, I never would have guessed that. So he writes me a prescription, and off I go, dragging poor Jason to Walgreens. That took like 40 min (I miss my Kaye Pharmacy). But to end this sad tale of woe, I'm now on 3 different medicines: Meclizine (take three times a day), Amoxicillin (twice a day) and 12 hour Sudafed. Which I'm sure is more information than you ever wanted to know about my sickness. So, yeah, I’m still feeling miserable, but at least not as bad as yesterday morning; thanks to my mom's insistence that I take care of things right away. The road to recovery may not be fun, but at least it's better than staying in Sicktown.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Trudging through slush
Haha! I love this Zits comic (grin). Only one more week of classes to go! I want the time to zoom by, but then I realize just how much I'm supposed to do before then, and I try to coax it to go more slowly. Lately I've been feeling kind of tired--and I don't mean just physically (that's a permanent characteristic). I feel like spiritually I'm trudging through slush. I've started to realize just how much pressure living "in the world" puts on a Christian. It's not outright attacks: those would almost be easier to deal with. It's the pressure that builds up slowly: dealing with the divorce of science and religion in class, trying to argue for Biblical inerrancy on the Tolkien listserve, attempting to answer skeptical friends about how Christianity makes sense. It's all so. . .constant.
Not that I'm giving up or anything; I'm just starting to realize what a special haven the Christian community really is. I've also been thinking a lot about two different things I've read in the last semester that talk about this. One is a column by Joel Belz (published in World last fall),
Uphill all the way
Does the road wind uphill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day's journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
This poem is most meaningful, though, when you have it’s opposite as well. I wasn’t planning on posting it too, but it’s so good; from the title to the last sentence, it makes me shiver. This one is called “Amor Mundi”
'Oh where are you going with your lovelocks flowing,
on the west wind blowing along this valley track?'
'The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.'
So they two went together in glowing August weather,
The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
And dear she was to dote on, her swift feet seemed to float on
The air like soft twin pigeons, too sportive to alight.
'Oh what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven,
Where blackest clouds hang even just at the rainy skirt?'
'Oh that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.'
'Oh what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
Their scent comes rich and sickly?' 'A scaled and hooded worm.'
'Oh what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?'
'Oh that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term.'
'Turn again, O my sweetest, - turn again, false and fleetest;
This beaten way thou beatest, I fear, is hell's own track.'
'Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting;
This downhill path is easy, but there's no turning back.'
Monday, April 24, 2006
Too Funny (Well, if you've read the Silmarillion)
Oh my, I love this illustrator so much! She has a whole series of comics about Boromir as a kid (they're in a Calvin & Hobbes style too). These are some of my (many) favorites. (To check out the rest, here's a link) LOL, the problems with little boys having early Middle Earth role models.
Well, I just spend the past weekend looking at Tolkien illustrations online. It was for school--honestly! So maybe I got a little too into it. But the presentation did give me a chance to use some of those many comics I've been storing up. Hmm, maybe I'll have to start posting some more of them (evil grin). I'll try not to overwhelm everyone with my very-avid- LotRfan-sense-of-humor.
Friday, April 21, 2006
The Craziest Bible Study Ever
This past Wednesday my Bible study met as usual at Plaza 900 (the "suave" dining hall) for dinner. It was such a nice evening that we decided to have Bible study on the Quad. On the way over, four of the six of us decide to take a detour through Conservation to visit the restroom. In the typical misadventuring spirit, we entered through a door that led either up, down, or through a locked office. So we decided to risk the ascent to the second level. Of course, this being a science building, all the doors had red "Warning: Hazardous Materials" signs. Such a fun place to be after hours. (One door even had a sign saying "Beware of Attack Butterfly." Brrr. Gives me shivers just thinking about it.) After this side trip (and looking suitably impressed by one members lobster red sunburn), we tramped off towards the Quad.
But the quickest way around Jesse hall was barred by some weird circus/play people, so rather than barge through the middle of whatever it was they were doing, we meandered around and cut through Jesse. We realized afterwards that just going around the other side would have been a lot faster. Oh well.
Finally arriving at the Quad (and skirting the typical guys playing football), we caught up with the other two girls and sat down. For a while, we focused on study (apart from the normal distractions: me tying grass stalks into a string, another girl slapping at a mosquito, etc.) All of a sudden, a girl stops her bike and comes to talk to us. She introducers herself, and after a bit of conversation, told us that she is a new Christian, but is intent on starting a huge revival at Mizzou, and were we interested in joining people in prayer. We all talked a bit more, and she left. Well, I for one raised my eyebrows, and we started discussing revival. Most of us were skeptical, but also felt a bit chastened that she, a younger Christian, was being so active. I'm still not sure that you can just start a revival that saves half the campus, but I suppose I should be the last one to say that's "impossible."
During everything that had happened, we had also noticed some other interesting characters wandering around on the Quad. This guy wearing a red polyester outfit was filming stuff while balancing on a Segway (one of those electric scooter things). The guy he was filming was ambling around, strumming his guitar. Not long after our first visitor left, they come up to us and say hi. He asks if he can sing a song for us, and we kind of dampened his hopes by replying that we're having Bible study. So he asks if he can sing a Christian song. "umm, okay" we tell him. 'Do you know 'By the River of Babylon" by Sublime?" he asks. We all just kind of stare at him, with a few chuckled mutters at "sublime" (I've never heard of that group before). We told him we didn't know that song, and there is this long silence. He walks back to the guy filming, and says to the camera in a dejected voice "they don't want to hear anything." By this point we're all kind of laughing quietly, but we can't really explain that we aren't laughing at him; we're laughing at his friend in the red suit. We look at each other, and decide that we can't be that mean; besides, we might not be showing good Christian behavior. So we say "Oh come on. you can play a song for us." We listen dutifully, and clap at the end of the song. Then they ask us, "hey can we have your permission to use you in our movie?" We give our consent, and they walk off to the other side of the quad.
Then Andrea looks at us, and says "You know, we have no clue what kind of movie they're making." This starts to sink in, and we have another discussion, where our imaginations jump to all kinds of horrible conclusions (rolls eyes).
A bit later, they are leaving and walk past us again. So we work up our courage, and flag the guy over. "So. . what's your movie about?" we ask slightly nervously. He graciously takes time to tell us about it. It's an independent film called "Homecoming," about 3 guys who graduate from Mizzou and come back five years later. "I play the failed musician" he tells us with a grin "So your reactions were great." Happy to oblige, we tell him. The rest of our time is spend talking about how we'll have to see it when it's shown on campus next year ( a big possibility).
I wonder if this happens to all Bible studies on the quad?
But the quickest way around Jesse hall was barred by some weird circus/play people, so rather than barge through the middle of whatever it was they were doing, we meandered around and cut through Jesse. We realized afterwards that just going around the other side would have been a lot faster. Oh well.
Finally arriving at the Quad (and skirting the typical guys playing football), we caught up with the other two girls and sat down. For a while, we focused on study (apart from the normal distractions: me tying grass stalks into a string, another girl slapping at a mosquito, etc.) All of a sudden, a girl stops her bike and comes to talk to us. She introducers herself, and after a bit of conversation, told us that she is a new Christian, but is intent on starting a huge revival at Mizzou, and were we interested in joining people in prayer. We all talked a bit more, and she left. Well, I for one raised my eyebrows, and we started discussing revival. Most of us were skeptical, but also felt a bit chastened that she, a younger Christian, was being so active. I'm still not sure that you can just start a revival that saves half the campus, but I suppose I should be the last one to say that's "impossible."
During everything that had happened, we had also noticed some other interesting characters wandering around on the Quad. This guy wearing a red polyester outfit was filming stuff while balancing on a Segway (one of those electric scooter things). The guy he was filming was ambling around, strumming his guitar. Not long after our first visitor left, they come up to us and say hi. He asks if he can sing a song for us, and we kind of dampened his hopes by replying that we're having Bible study. So he asks if he can sing a Christian song. "umm, okay" we tell him. 'Do you know 'By the River of Babylon" by Sublime?" he asks. We all just kind of stare at him, with a few chuckled mutters at "sublime" (I've never heard of that group before). We told him we didn't know that song, and there is this long silence. He walks back to the guy filming, and says to the camera in a dejected voice "they don't want to hear anything." By this point we're all kind of laughing quietly, but we can't really explain that we aren't laughing at him; we're laughing at his friend in the red suit. We look at each other, and decide that we can't be that mean; besides, we might not be showing good Christian behavior. So we say "Oh come on. you can play a song for us." We listen dutifully, and clap at the end of the song. Then they ask us, "hey can we have your permission to use you in our movie?" We give our consent, and they walk off to the other side of the quad.
Then Andrea looks at us, and says "You know, we have no clue what kind of movie they're making." This starts to sink in, and we have another discussion, where our imaginations jump to all kinds of horrible conclusions (rolls eyes).
A bit later, they are leaving and walk past us again. So we work up our courage, and flag the guy over. "So. . what's your movie about?" we ask slightly nervously. He graciously takes time to tell us about it. It's an independent film called "Homecoming," about 3 guys who graduate from Mizzou and come back five years later. "I play the failed musician" he tells us with a grin "So your reactions were great." Happy to oblige, we tell him. The rest of our time is spend talking about how we'll have to see it when it's shown on campus next year ( a big possibility).
I wonder if this happens to all Bible studies on the quad?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.jpg)