We Meet Again

That crazygeniusbastard (maybe if I run it together, no one will notice the profanity. Oh hi Mom.) Hemingway and I met again today.
For literature, the assigned reading was For Whom The Bell Tolls.

Remember last summer, when it took me almost a month to read that book? Remember how I was intimidated by it, and then hated it, and then loved it?

So do I.

Anyway, it was lovely to discuss the book with actual people and an actual professor of literature. It was also reassuring to discover that the themes I gleaned from the book last June/July are real, live WIDELY ACCEPTED HEMINGWAY THEMES. Hoorah!

There may be hope for me and my English major after all.

P.S. I have officially come to terms with the fact that I am taking a class entitled "Gender and Sexuality in Literature of the American Tropics" this spring. I have to fulfill a human diversity requirement for my major, and Multicultural Literature was full. I'm on the waitlist, but things aren't looking good on that front. So...gender and sexuality it is.

Don't get me wrong here; there is absolutely nothing wrong with the subject of this class, and as a matter of fact I've always thought I should take a GWSS course whilst at Morris, as it's not an area I'm familiar with. That's the thing, though. It's not an area I'm familiar with. And the course sounds so...specific. With the English classes I've taken thus far in my college career, readings have spanned many eras, topics, and writing styles. If I found myself uninterested in a topic (ahem. Romantic British poets, I'm looking at you), I merely had to grit my teeth and wait it out. But with an entire class dedicated to one topic, if I find it uninteresting, I'm pretty much stuck.

Still, I am looking forward to trying something new. I'll let you know how it goes.

Things That Scare Me

Part 1: Emails like this

Hi, Holly,

Thanks for your message. For students who haven't already taken the Intro to Creative Writing course at UMM, I'm asking them to send a short sample of their work in fiction. It doesn't have to be anything perfect -- just something to give me an idea of the level you're working at.

Thanks!

Part 2: Schedules like this

MWF:
11:45-12:50 Themes in World History
1-2:05 Advanced Fiction Writing (conditional: see above email)
2:15-3:20 U.S. Multicultural Literature
3:30-5:10 (W) Honors: Power of Place

Tu Th:
10-11:40 Intro to Stats

Salzburged

Some funny things about living in Austria:

1. Every time I have to make an interaction with a native German speaker, whether it be to buy a bus ticket, order lunch, or simply to apologize for a random act of clumsiness, I think of said interaction like a game: let's see how long I can keep them believing that I am also a native speaker. Usually not long. But I'm getting better.

2. I am now utterly and completely unimpressed with the Alps. What? I can see a mountain from my dorm room window? Ho hum.

3. This is not a good place for people with a sweet tooth to live. It's downright dangerous. Must take brisk walks/slow jogs daily in retaliation.

4. Since I'm (sort of) a native now, I'm quickly becoming annoyed by tourists. Dear large group of 60 plus-ers: please take your umpteenth picture of Mozart's birthplace and quit blocking the sidewalk. Danke schön. (Sorry if this sounds mean, but those darn tour groups almost made me late for class this morning; their bulky cameras and fanny packs forced me to practically crawl along the street in order to keep moving.)

5. Almost every single person in my group (that is, other members of my study abroad program) goes out drinking every night. Every single night. Drunk. Stumbling home at 7 a.m. as I'm walking the opposite way, heading to class. Ergo, I have not made many friends as of yet. Because although I'm now legal, and although I'm certainly not opposed to having a drink now and then (not that I really have yet), I also firmly believe that the majority of one's fun, whether alone or with a group, should be had sober. I mean, if you're drunk, you're not really having fun. The chemicals poisoning your liver are. And I don't know if they should be having that much fun, especially when in close proximity to a vital organ.

Come on guys, can't we just play Sardines instead?

I miss Morris.

6. It's so incredibly beautiful here, but I think about home and the people back home ALL THE TIME. I'll be looking at something, and all of the sudden I'll think, "Jeez, my Dad would enjoy this retired WWII tanker. He would probably make me spend hours touring it with him, because he always has to read EVERY SINGLE THING in EVERY SINGLE DISPLAY." And then I'll shake my head and remember that I'm supposed to be independent and grownup and I'm supposed to be making new friends and sharing things with them. And then I'll remember that my dorm room currently smells like a brewery and I'll feel a little bit of despair because I don't know if I want that kind of friend.

And then I'll get really snobby and decide that I already have enough friends back home. Why do I need more?

And then I'll sit in my room by myself, stare at the wall, and think, "Oh. That's why."

Don't get me wrong; I love it in Salzburg. I just wish I had some good people to love it with.

Stay gold, guys. And maybe send some my way. I'm the one reading Northanger Abbey in Room 330.

In Which I'm Still Working At Target

Hello, blog.
Today I'm feeling a little down. All of my friends are in Morris. Together. Walking the mall and exploring the HFA and shopping the (ridiculously overpriced) bookstore.
And I'm at home, still working at Target.

I don't leave until September 9th, which I may or may not have mentioned. I'm glad that I have the extra time at home to earn more money, to celebrate my birthday, to spend time with my family, but it's a bad feeling to be left behind.

I'm ready for my school year to start, too. Is this how it's going to feel every August once I've graduated from college? Sad and lonely and like I'm missing out on everything? If so, I may have to reconsider going to graduate school. Or live in Morris for the rest of my life. Both valid options.

To all of you lounging in your half-unpacked college dorm rooms right now, I wish you the very best. But is there room on that futon for me? It will only be for a few weeks, I promise.

P.S. I've just returned from renting Jane Eyre (new version) from the local Video Vault. If there's anything that can cheer me up, it's a historical romantic drama adapted from a mid-19th century gothic novel.

She Saves the Big News For Last

Finished the Sherman Alexie this morning. My goodness, I love that man. If you haven't read The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, you absolutely should. And then read some of Alexie's poetry. He's good at that, too.

I think I have a soft spot for Sherman Alexie because my American Lit. II professor knows him, and told the class a few funny stories about him. I'm constantly in awe of how connected academics are. Probably because they go to conventions and meet other academics. And discuss things academically. And read each other's academic essays. And then cite each other's essays in their own essays. And then go to more conferences to present their academically written, cited essays.

And then they probably go out for drinks.

Anyway, sticking to my summer tradition of alternating impressive books with 'fun' books, I began Jane Austen's Persuasion today. I'm not sure why I chose that particular Austen (actually, I know why: because Sandra Bullock's character talks about the book in The Lake House, a movie I'm not crazy about but have seen a few times recently. I like Sandra Bullock. Her Oscar win was a high point in my life.), but I'm enjoying it so far.

Austens definitely require thought. No daydreaming or multitasking with an Austen novel. If you skim through a paragraph, you should probably go back and read it properly, because that woman sure knew how to pack it in. Also, I always feel compelled to look up all the 'noted' words and phrases in the back of the book. Illuminating, but time-consuming.

And now for the "Big News:"

I feel compelled to tell you now (and have been feeling compelled for quite a while now) that I'm starting a separate travel blog beginning before I leave for Austria. And I may not come back (to Blogger, not to America. I have to come back to America. My books are here.). You see, I like Wordpress. A lot. Blasphemy, I know, but I think it looks crisper and more professional (and prettier) than Blogger. So my travel blog will be there, and if I decide I like it, I may stay with it even after I'm back in the States.

That being said, I'm not completely sure how this whole travel blog thing will go. The women I work with at one of my UMM jobs will be reading it (they first suggested I start it), my parents will be reading it, my sister, my friends, etc. I don't know if a larger audience will cause me to change the things I blog about. I mean, this blog is pretty much a journal. I really don't hold back here. Sure, I doll things up. I try to make my life sound interesting for you guys. I make everyday situations into weird off-poems. But basically, it's a journal. The other blog may be pared down a bit. It will still be me, but as my new audience will likely be more interested in the things I'm doing and seeing and learning than strange poems about street lamps and rants entitled "goodlordwhatamIgoingtodowithmylifeyouguys," I feel a paring down is necessary.

In a nutshell, I'm going over there. But I will likely come back and visit. Because I'll miss you guys and I'll miss my bad poetry and my Person of the Week and reading over the posts of a younger, less savvy me.

I'll be sure to post the link to the new blog as soon as I create it. I hope you'll stay in touch.

Things Get Better For Me

Sorry sorry sorry. I know I'm a slacker. But pray believe me when I tell you (with one trustworthy hand on your shoulder) that this week has been a tough week for me.

I've laughed.

I've cried.

I've done both synonymously.

I wish I were joking about the synonymously.

I had three tests this week: American Literature, Art History, and German.

The first two went well, the third I didn't take because

I gave blood on Thursday evening

And then had a slight mental breakdown

And wasn't able to study for said German exam.

I don't know if mental breakdown is what I should call what I had, and I certainly don't like writing 'mental breakdown' because it makes me sound like some sort of basket case. But what else do you call it when you're in the middle of a doubles badminton game, and suddenly you start getting really stressed out and you begin to swing back and forth between laughing and crying?

(I'm usually not a very competitive person. Sure, I like to win, but I think it's incredibly rude and tacky to act rude and tacky when it comes to competitions. So I try to behave in a more dignified manner.)

But let me tell you, I was slightly freaking out during this game of badminton. Within the space of about 3 minutes I moodswung back and forth between laughing and almost sobbing about 5 times. I also seriously considered running over and yelling at people that I hardly knew for doing things that were hardly offensive to me. Then my trusty partner and I walked back to our room and I sat on my bed and cried for a good half hour.

And I don't think it had anything to do with the badminton. I'm going to blame this one on the blood loss and lack of sleep and test stress.

Things have gotten better, though. Last night our friend Ben came up from the cities, and we all went to the on-campus Rooney concert together. I decided after the concert that the kind of music Rooney makes just isn't to my taste, but that it was fun nonetheless. Live concerts usually are.

After the concert, Ben, Maddie, and I settled down in our room with some snacks and Ben's old (and terrible) horror movies and watched and ate until we fell asleep.

This morning was the Prairie Cup, which is a Ground Quidditch tournament. UMM played the U of MN Twin Cities team. It was so cold on the bleachers, but so worth it to watch a cross country runner in gold spandex act as the snitch and run all over campus evading the two seekers. It was so worth it to watch the chasers and beaters and keepers get mud-splattered as they knocked each other around in Indy Lake (which isn't really a lake-more like a large hollow that they flood in the winter for broomball). It was so worth it to hear the announcers announce "prospies!" and then to turn around and cheer at the tour groups as they walked by. I'm certain that if I had been touring a college campus and had seen a game of Quidditch going on, I would have chosen that college on the spot.

P.S. We got 2 inches of snow last night (Friday, April 15th). On Monday, April 11th, it was 70 degrees out. Huh.

Laundry Blues

I hate doing laundry.
I hate walking down 8 flights of stairs to do it, I hate bumping into people on the way, and I hate walking back up again only to walk back down again 38 minutes later to throw my clothes into the dryer.
I hate that people will dump your clothes if you are even 5 minutes late to get them.
I hate that I always spill a bit of detergent, and that when I try to clean it up (because there's a sign saying you have to and because it's Lent and my religion teacher at St. John's taught us that Lent is the season for random acts of kindness. Or was it Advent?) it's slimy and gets on my hands and then I smell like mountain spring for the rest of the week.
I hate that when I want to hang up some clothes in our room, the only place for the drying rack is in the middle of everything, and that I can hardly move without tripping over said drying rack.
I hate that the only thing I have to say on a Saturday night is how much I hate doing laundry.

When I'm out in the real world, and looking for an apartment, please (I'm begging you) don't let me get one without an in-suite washer/dryer. I don't care if they're in a closet, I don't care if they're in my bedroom. Just no stairs.

P.S. Night 3 (final) of Jazz Fest is tonight. I decided not to volunteer after all, but while I was sitting on my bed just now making art history flashcards, I thought it would be nice to listen to UMM's campus radio station's live broadcast of Jazz Fest. I turned to the channel, and was horrified to discover that apparently "live broadcast" means that the DJ talks incessantly in the foreground while muted jazz plays in the background. I began yelling at said DJ. Loudly. I was cruel. I insulted him (and maybe his mother once or twice). So I'm sorry, DJ. This is my public (enough) apology. But next time, just play the jazz, please.

That Jazz

It's a rather nice day out. Windy as always, but otherwise warm. There are only a few patches of snow left around campus, namely the shrunken remains of an igloo on the Mall.

Jazz Fest has been going on since yesterday evening, so as I sit on my bed and type, I hear snatches of saxophone or trumpet or trombone shriek from the direction of the Student Center. I'll be volunteering at tonight's portion of Jazz Fest, and a bunch of us will be wearing "Thank you Bob and Susan" buttons in honor of U of MN president Bob Bruininks, who is also attending tonight. He's retiring this year after having served the University well for a long time.

I also found out today that I got reelected as a Campus Assembly Representative for UMM's student government.
What's really amazing, though, is that the team who won the presidential/vice presidential race only beat the other team by 4 VOTES. Can you believe it? 804 people voted (out of the 1700 students at UMM, which is actually a really high percentage), and it was that close. It's also funny to think that there's a random person walking around campus right now who didn't vote, but if he would have voted, would have voted for the team that ended up losing. That person is 1/4 of the reason why that team lost. Well, sort of. This is me trying to do statistic stuff. Please don't laugh.

I guess my point is that the next time I hear someone say "What's the point of voting? My vote doesn't make a difference!" I'll get right up in their face and laugh. And then I'll tell them the story I just told you.

In other news, I won the Read-a-Thon this year. I think I've explained it in the past, but basically one of my friends and I record all the books we read in one year, and then get together and see who read the most. We also have sub-categories: number of classics read (we debate this), pages read, average length of books read, books read that haven't been read previously, etc.
Here are my stats for April 1st 2010-April 1st 2011:
88 Books (which was exactly my goal)
27,183 pages
308.8 pages per book average
36 new books (I know-this could be higher. I love rereading my old favorites, though)
16 classics (Dracula, A Passage to India, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Fahrenheit 451, Jane Eyre, This Side of Paradise, Memoirs of a Sleep Walker, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, Utopia, Rip Van Winkle, Atonement, King Lear, The Hidden Hand, The House of Seven Gables, Franny and Zooey, The Bell Jar)

What's more is that I do so much reading every day for classes that doesn't get recorded anywhere; I'm constantly reading articles, short stories, poems, passages, essays, etc.

Well I think that's all I have. Sorry if this post has been a little sporadic, but it's been such a busy week that I didn't have the energy to do anything fancy or cohesive.

Tschüss!

I'll Miss Things

Gosh, I love it here.

Have you gotten that impression yet?

Why would I ever want to leave?

Grammar and Language is being offered this fall. I want to take Grammar and Language.

A ballet version of Cinderella is coming this fall. I want to see Cinderella.

MCSA secretaries are being appointed this fall. I want to be a secretary.

Rocky Horror Picture Show is being shown (as per tradition) in Edson this fall. I want to see Rocky; this year will be my first year actually understanding what's going on.

I have friends that I'll miss.

I have family I'll miss.

I have professors I'll miss.

I have three jobs that I'll miss.

Sometimes (as you may have guessed), I don't know if I want to go away to Salzburg this fall. I know it's a great opportunity, and that I've wanted to travel my entire life, and that part of the reason I came to UMM in the first place was because they have such a good study abroad program, but still. I guess I'm a little scared. Not of Austria, but of leaving Minnesota. Is that crazy?

Julie seems to think so.

Mine Does

What kind of university lets a group of students sit in a room for five and a half hours
and decide which pieces of technology are worthy of being invested in?

What kind of university gives said students more than $200,000 to invest?

Mine does.

Drag Show

I ask you:
How many of you spend four and a half hours in tech fee hearings
(and while it is great that students get so much power,
allocating 150,000 dollars and all)
and by the end feel tired enough to drop?
Then comes a shoulder tap
From behind left,
where Elizabeth sits.
Keep your chin up, Holly, she says,
and I smile and say I'll try
and I do,
perhaps mostly because someone noticed my chin was drooping
and that makes all the difference.
I ask you:
Have you ever exited such a stuffy, four and a half hour room
and gone to E-Quality's Annual Drag Show?
Probably not.
I didn't know what to think
when I first entered Edson Auditorium, past a boy in my German class
who was suddenly transformed into
a convincing woman
with red bra, red lipstick, and taffy blonde hair.
The whole campus (practically) was there in that auditorium,
and the majority was in drag
and crazy because when you're dressed up you can do anything
walk walk fashion baby work it move that thing crazy
act after act after act
boys and girls dressed up like girls and boys
lip syncing to songs that made the audience gasp and shriek and laugh
and run up with dollar bills to shove down the performers' shirts
or in their pockets
(because that's what you were supposed to do)
(it was part of the fun)
the judging was two staff members two professors
(one of whom is my dignified advisor)
and our very own Chancellor.
And throughout the crowd was pulsing with excitement
young and alive and wonderful
because sometimes people die,
but not tonight.
There was a joke an MC told:
today was admitted student day, and he said that it was fun
to watch the faces of the admitted students
(and their parents)
as they walked past the table advertising the Drag Show.
We all roared with laughter at that
Because they'll find out soon enough
That UMM is a pulsing campus
That attends Drag Shows
and pulls your chin back up from your chest
when it falls.
Where else can you get that, I ask you.

Friday Doings

Not that my day has been particularly earth-shattering (so far), but if you've been wondering what exactly occurs in my daily life that leads me to post the way I do, here you go:

7:11 a.m. (for some reason whenever I wake up during the night or early in the morning before going back to sleep, I always remember the exact time I woke up, down to the minute. Weird.) Woke up coughing (that's right, The Cold still lives.), bobbed head up to gulp water and check clock. Bobbed head back down and feel back to sleep.

8:00 a.m. My alarm went off. Time to get up for real. Did I? Nope.

8:49 a.m. Woke up again. Bobbed head up to see that The Roommate was dressed and reaching for her backpack. She has class at 9:15 as well. Gave shriek of horror, then jumped out of bed and rushed around getting dressed. For the first time in about a year I didn't have time to put mascara on (sad, I know).

9:05 a.m. Left dorm with The Roommate, heading to class. It was snowing outside, which for some reason disoriented me. Isn't March supposed to mean spring? Or is this just the lion end?

9:15 a.m. American Literature II began. We discussed George Chesnutt's "The Goophered Grapevine." I liked the story all right, but I don't think it's something I could write a 4 page paper on. Unfortunately, I have no choice, as I've procrastinated on the required paper all semester.

10:20 a.m. Class ended. I walked back to my dorm via The Student Center because it's warm and because I like to see what's going on.

10:25 a.m. Back in room. Folded/hung up laundry from last night. The wrinkles, I suppose, are my own fault.

11:14 a.m. Walked with The Roommate to lunch. Ate with Katie, Evan, Mariah, Aaron, Tim and King. I had fish, a salad, and a cookie, in case you were wondering.

11:35 a.m. Headed to class.

11:45 a.m. Beginning German II began. We had a test on Wednesday, so we started a new unit today. Said new unit is all about food and drink, apparently, which should be interesting. I embarrassed myself considerably by shouting out "Spinach!!" when the professor asked what the green blob in the picture was. It wasn't spinach. It was noodles. Hmph. Looked like spinach.

12:50 p.m. Deutsch over, walked back to dorm with Aaron (a different Aaron from the one I ate lunch with).

1:00 p.m. Chatted with The Roommate a little bit before plopping down on my bed with Mac. Went through my bookmarks bar, as I do a few times every day. Here's the order: Facebook, UMM email, Apple movie trailers, IMDB, The Pioneer Woman, 4 or so other random blogs I follow, and a quote-of-the-day website. I usually try to check BBC and Huffington Post as well, but didn't feel like it today. Then, of course, I came to my own blog. Hi.

Capital, Capital

Today was the Rally to Restore Affordability at the Minnesota State Capitol Building in St. Paul.



It was a long bus ride


But worth it to see this


And this (inside of the Capitol Building)


We went exploring in the bowels of the Capitol and found...


Jesse Ventura!!


Look at all that green! (Those were our UMM shirts-we had 99 people come, which is way more people than any of the other (bigger) U of MN campuses had)


Later on came the speakers. Here's Governor Mark Dayton (who I was within a few feet of)


And our very own Josh Preston (who blew all the other speakers out of the water)


I tried out the benches around the Rotunda (not so comfortable)


Me and the capital Capitol

Weekend Hints

Here are a couple of hints as to what I did with the rest of my weekend. Also, please forgive any poor photography. I apparently need to delve a little deeper into a certain new camera manual:






Any guesses?

Okay.

1. Mad and I rearranged our room, which not only helped in the I-have-a-six-page-paper-to-write-but-i-don't-wanna department, but also turned up a few surprises:


Like my Vaseline, which I've been searching for ever since the hand-drying, knuckle-splitting wind arrived in Morris this winter. Grossed out by the dust/hair/crumb combo surrounding the jar? So was I. We swept the floor when we were finished moving, I promise.

2. It snowed. And snowed. And kept snowing (actually it's still going). If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that we've gotten a good 14 inches since yesterday morning. With so much snow in such a short period of time, you would expect school to be closed. All the other U of MN campuses were. But not Morris. Apparently we're made of stronger stuff out here (or at least the higher-ups are, because I certainly wasn't keen on getting up for my 9:15).

3. I scraped a good hunk of skin off my second finger this morning. Still half asleep, I flung my arm out and it hit our popcorn-studded wall. Too tired to even look at the injury, I simply let my hand dangle out of the covers where it wouldn't bloody any sheets, and continued to doze. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time the wall and my hand have come to blows.

A Prairie Home Companion

I bought my ticket to A Prairie Home Companion (recording live from University of Minnesota, Morris) months ago, practically the instant tickets were available. Despite this, when an email was sent out to all UMM students calling for volunteers to usher at the show, I jumped on that as well. Ushers got a free ticket, which made my previous purchase unnecessary, but I couldn't help but hope that as an usher who would be in the gym hours early, I would get a chance to meet Garrison Keillor himself.

So on Saturday I sold my ticket to my friend Aaron at half price, pulled on my dorky UMM polo, grabbed my camera, and marched over to the PE center.

Upon arriving, I was first of all surprised at how many ushers there were. There were roughly 30 people (faculty, staff, and students alike) congregated in the main lobby of the RFC. Right off the bat we were given flashlights to shake up (go green), lanyards with ID badges, and emergency briefings to read.

Then a man who was part of the PHC crew, came over to talk to us about expectations. Overall, I was impressed by how laid back the show was going to be. Obviously it's live, so babies couldn't be screaming and bleachers couldn't be squeaking during the quieter parts of the show, but other than that, it seemed like almost anything was okay. People could come and go as they pleased (except during aforementioned quiet parts), food and drink were perfectly fine, as were photography and recording (minus flash). As the man put it (although I admit I found this part to be kind of presumptuous): "The people who come to see the show think that Garrison is their friend, and that they've been invited tonight by him specifically. As such, his audience members need to be treated with respect and sensitivity."

After someone else gave us the lowdown on what to do in case of an emergency, Wendy (one of the organizers) began listing off different usher positions and asking for a certain number of people to cover each position. I held off for a long time before volunteering, wanting to be down on the floor (as close to the stage as possible). When Wendy came to the reserved handicapped section, and asked for two volunteers to accommodate people there, my hand shot up. That section just had to be up front, right?

Turns out it wasn't. It was on the floor instead of up on the bleachers, sure, but it was in the very back left corner of the floor seating. Fortunately, I forgot to be disappointed, because as soon as I walked out into the gym, I realized that Garrison and the rest of the actors and musicians were already there warming up.

Imagine walking into a gym and hearing Garrison Keillor's voice and realizing that you're not listening to a radio someone had left on, that instead, the man himself is on the stage in jeans and bright red tennis shoes, and that the rest of the voices you've grown up hearing on long car rides back from the cabin are standing there beside him.

Once I got over being starstruck (it took me a few minutes, admittedly), I began marveling at the stage itself. It was set up in front of the other set of bleachers, and evidently the PHC people travelled with a semi truck, because they had brought with them 4 huge bars laden with stage lights, the stage itself, frames hung with black velvet curtains that served as "the wings," a huge piece of scenery made to look like a house (with awning and porch light and windows and everything), plus of course all the equipment, instruments, etc.

Since the volunteers had been asked to show up a good 2 hours before the general public was let in, we got to stand around and listen to the actors and musicians (and our UMM Concert Choir, which was featured on the show) warm up. I tried not to listen too hard, because I wanted to be interested enough to watch the real show later.

When 3:30 rolled around and the doors opened, people began to flood in. My job was to: a) point them to general admission seating b) point them to VIP seating c) point them to handicapped seating d) gently tell them that having a child in the choir does not guarantee front row seating e) point them to the restrooms f) point them to concessions g) reassure them that they would be able to get back in after using the restrooms or buying concessions h) give them extra programs.

Then at 5 the live show actually began and I got to sit down and enjoy it. I won't describe the entire synopsis, I'll only say that it was fantastic, and that I was pleasantly surprised by how much the PHC people emphasized Morris in the show. They had the choir perform (as I've said), they set many of the skits in Morris, they interviewed Matt (a Morris student on MCSA with me) about the campus, and they even sang a few songs about the town.

Here are some pictures from the show. I know they're slightly horrible, but as I've said, I've been struggling to figure out my new camera. Besides, it was dark and flashes weren't allowed.





Did I get to meet Garrison and the Gang after all that? Nope. They had to hurry out of town after the show in order to beat the snow (rhyme not intended).

Holly and the Clue to the Half Mast Flag

It's a busy day for me: 2 meetings, 2 different shifts for 2 different jobs, plus class and Pickleball club (later).
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.



I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.

All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.


I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.

Tonight is My Last Night at Home

Tonight is my last night at home.
Last year I remember I was ecstatic to get back to school. But last year, you know, I was a freshman. Freshmen have adventures. They only study on Sunday nights. They spend all of Winter Break pressing young noses against windowpanes and waiting waiting to go back to school.
Sophomores are ghastly; they walk around with hollow eyes, gaping mouths can't believe their sudden workload. Sophomores crash over Winter Break. They may work a job at Target that they love, but otherwise they pretty much watch movies and read. They avoid thinking about school, and certainly don't miss it. School for sophomores means studying, which isn't really something to be missed (not really, that is).

So tonight (which is my last night at home) I pack reluctantly.
I look at the couch, thinking "that was my last time crashing on you"
I look at the dogs, thinking "that was my last time chasing you around the yard pelting you with snowballs which you stupidly tried to eat" (please understand: this is actually more of a funny activity than a cruel one. Try it sometime.)
I look at my bed, thinking: "this is the last time I'll lay on you, smothered with blankets, reading until 4 a.m."
I even said goodbye to Target today, wandering its aisles like a not-so-subtle shoplifter.

I know I'll be happy to get back to Morris once I get there.
But for now, I'm enjoying one last night at home.
Because tonight (as you may know) is my last night at home.

Finals Week, Part 1

There are two large snakes housed in the Science Building at UMM. The boa constrictor is named Ramses, and the ball python is 8 Ball. I held 8 Ball once in late October. I happened to be passing by as some of the biology majors were lifting him out of his glass tank. "Why don't you hold him?" a boy asked enticingly, draping the snake about his shoulders as if it were a scaly shawl.

My first inclination was to say no. My second inclination was to say well okay.

8 Ball was heavier than I expected; his long body was thick and muscular. His dry skin slid against mine as he twisted his head around to look at me. He flicking his tongue periodically, me hardly blinking at all, we regarded one another.

He must have decided I was all right (for a human), because he soon resumed wrapping himself tightly around my arms.

Now it's December, and I'm back again to stand in the Science Building and gaze at the snakes. Among the rocks in their enclosures, they hardly move at all. Ramses has a large lump near his throat, and I know that while he lays placidly, inside he is digesting his Sunday dinner. I pity the mouse that didn't have a chance.

I sit down beside the tanks to work on a paper that should have been done yesterday, and suddenly I would give everything good and dear and wonderful about my life to be a snake. To doze inside a warm rectangle all day, only disturbed to eat and drink and to be held by curious students wearing black glasses and hooded sweatshirts. To creep around on my belly, not concerned about getting up or lying down or hurrying or tripping or letting anyone down.

I'd like to be a snake, so I can simply be.

Cinderella

Right now I sort of feel like Cinderella, for the following reasons:
1. There's a ball going on, and I'm not going.
2. Because I have to do work.
3. And I'm sitting here watching the girls on my floor get dressed up.
4. And I wish I were going with them.


I'm unlike Cinderella for the following reasons:
1. I have no adorable rodent friends.
2. It's a not a prince's ball in the palace; it's a Yule Ball (that's right-Harry Potter style) in the Student Center.
3. There are no hideous step-relatives preventing me from going.
4. My 'work' consists of papers, and presentations, and general studying, not chores and laundry.

You know, Cinderella used to be my favorite story growing up. According to my parents, I used to beg them to read it to me. Unfortunately for them, it was quite a long read, for a picture book.

Nowadays, I'm not such a fan of old Cinderella. We still own the Disney version on VHS, and whenever I watch it I'm struck by what a weak character Cinderella is.

First of all, she's not very proactive. Instead of fighting to improve her own life, she relies on mice, and a dog, and a horse, and a fairy godmother to help her win her prince. She's constantly singing about the importance of dreams, but does she ever really take any risks to make her dreams come true? Nope. She goes to a ball and dances one dance with an incredibly shallow prince, who doesn't speak two words to her, and probably only likes her for her beauty.

Furthermore, what were her dreams in the first place? To fall in love? I mean, this girl has pretty much been locked up in a manor scrubbing floors her entire life. Doesn't she want to see a bit of the world? Get an education? Make some friends? Actually live a normal life for a bit? Apparently not.

To be completely fair to Cinderella, however, I decided to google her. See if she's really just all fluff. Here's what I found out:

The story of Cinderella is actually thought to have originated around the 1st Century B.C., when a Greek history named Strabo recorded this story about an Egyptian girl:
They tell the fabulous story that, when she was bathing, an eagle snatched one of her sandals from her maid and carried it to Memphis. While the king was administering justice in the open air, the eagle, when it arrived above his head, flung the sandal into his lap. The king, having been stirred both by the beautiful shape of the sandal and by the strangeness of the occurrence, sent men in all directions into the country in quest of the woman who wore the sandal. When she was found in the city of Naucratis, she was brought up to Memphis and became the wife of the king...[3][4]

Nothing else I found led me to believe Cinderella has any depth, although I do admire her longevity. I guess everyone likes a little blind romance.

And she does have some good qualities, I'll admit. What do they call her? "Ever gentle and kind." Certainly admirable, but not exactly my kind of heroine these days.

No Shirking in Morris

The wind in Morris isn't kind. It doesn't float past you, skip out of your way as you skuttle down the sidewalk with an armful of books. Nor does it pause to take a look at your face to gauge your reaction.

Instead, the wind in Morris cuts right through you, biting your hands through your sleeves and your legs through your jeans. It tosses your hair into a state of confusion. It bashes the back of your knees over and over until you think you're going to pitch over face first onto the still-strangely-green grass. The Morris wind does these things regardless of your mood or taste.

Some people blame the gusting wind on the fact that the city of Morris lies on the prairie. A mostly settled, farmed, beroaded prairie, but a flat grassland nonetheless. There are no hills to block the wind here.

I, however, blame the wind turbine. When you put up a turbine, in my opinion, you are just asking for this type of wind. Mother Nature is not opposed to going green. She is overly generous, rather, if one can be such a thing (and I think it's possible). In her eagerness to send the force Morris needs to turn the blades and power the campus, she sent the kind of wind I have just described. "Do not relent," Mother Nature told the wind, "they asked for you, they needed you, and you must not shirk."

There is certainly no shirking in Morris.