It's raining here in Salzburg.
It has been raining all evening.
And you know what I just realized?
That my laundry is hanging outside, and has been since this afternoon.
I was upset about this, about having to throw on a coat over my jammies (yes, I call pajamas jammies. Don't judge), having to hunt down my ipod (because you can't do anything epic without a soundtrack), and having to run out in the cold to fetch cold, wet clothes.
I was upset, that is, until a friend pointed out that this situation sounds a lot like a scene in Pride and Prejudice (new version), where Elizabeth is snatching clothes off the line in the rain.
Needless to say, I'm now feeling pretty good about going outside.
Also, in case you're wondering why I've been so lazy as of late with my posting, check my other blog. Vienna last weekend. It's all there.
Showing posts with label Epicness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Epicness. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
One Down On The Old Bucket List
Just went through the Culver's drive-thru with my darling sister.
On foot.
I've always wanted to do that.
Also, I was barefoot.
Also, it was 10 p.m.
Also, when we walked up to the window, the Culver's girl invited us inside to order. She said it was okay that I was barefoot.
Also, upon leaving Culver's, Am and I sprinted to the van with our custard and squealed out like we were making a getaway.
Also, a large minivan with a bike rack on top is not an ideal getaway car. For future reference.
On foot.
I've always wanted to do that.
Also, I was barefoot.
Also, it was 10 p.m.
Also, when we walked up to the window, the Culver's girl invited us inside to order. She said it was okay that I was barefoot.
Also, upon leaving Culver's, Am and I sprinted to the van with our custard and squealed out like we were making a getaway.
Also, a large minivan with a bike rack on top is not an ideal getaway car. For future reference.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Non-Morose Activities
I guess my last few posts have been kind of morose. But I'm not morose anymore, I swear!
To prove it, here are some non-morose activities I've engaged in this weekend:
1. Shopping at MOA with my mother and sister. Now, don't get the wrong impression. I hate shopping for clothes. I do. But I like clothes, and I really needed them. So off we went. And it turned out pretty well. My sister is a master bargain shopper, so we had fun digging through racks of 50% off in Gap and Banana Republic and other stores that I would probably never pay full price in because Good Lord I don't want to end up destitute in the middle of Europe this Fall.
2. Graduation parties. I attended 3 total this weekend, and they were all really great. It's always a little awkward to do the mingling-small-talk thing, but I think that's unavoidable at any party.
3. Lock-in with 50+ sugared-up, sleep-deprived 1st-8th graders. My darling mother (a teacher at the school where the lock-in was held) volunteered to take charge of the gym activities. Amy and I went along to help and ended up playing Medic*** for 3+ hours. It was a lot of fun, but it was also a bit of a shock for me because
a) holy cow I've been sore for the past three days
and
b) when did kids get so mean? I love kids, but I don't love them so much when they're screaming at each other (and me) about who should be the medic, and who is too terrible at life and at all things athletic to be medic. Amy, who is the most even-tempered person I know, spent half the night whipping balls at this one 5th grader who was being an absolute jerk. He was throwing balls back at her, but man, Amy has an arm, and what's more, she was MAD. Forgive me, but it was fun to watch.
4. Work. Always, always work. I still love working at Target, but sometimes I feel like I come off as kind of a bonehead because I always have to ask questions and I always have these embarrassing space cadet moments (mostly stemming, I would like to point out, from lack of sleep). Sometimes I want to scream for the whole store to hear that I'm an Honors student, that I go to Morris, that I can do a mean crossword puzzle. But I guess I'd rather come off as stupid than crazy.
***Here's Medic for those of you who had slightly joyless childhoods: the gym is divided in half, 1 team on either side. A million of those soft, foam-filled balls are released. Each team throws balls at the other team, trying to hit them. Once you're hit, you have to sit down, and you cannot get up until your team's designated medic touches your shoulder and 'heals' you. If one of the medics is hit by a ball, they also have to sit down, and can't get up again until they manage to hit someone on the other team (from their sitting position). A team wins when all of the opposing team's players are down, including their medic.
To prove it, here are some non-morose activities I've engaged in this weekend:
1. Shopping at MOA with my mother and sister. Now, don't get the wrong impression. I hate shopping for clothes. I do. But I like clothes, and I really needed them. So off we went. And it turned out pretty well. My sister is a master bargain shopper, so we had fun digging through racks of 50% off in Gap and Banana Republic and other stores that I would probably never pay full price in because Good Lord I don't want to end up destitute in the middle of Europe this Fall.
2. Graduation parties. I attended 3 total this weekend, and they were all really great. It's always a little awkward to do the mingling-small-talk thing, but I think that's unavoidable at any party.
3. Lock-in with 50+ sugared-up, sleep-deprived 1st-8th graders. My darling mother (a teacher at the school where the lock-in was held) volunteered to take charge of the gym activities. Amy and I went along to help and ended up playing Medic*** for 3+ hours. It was a lot of fun, but it was also a bit of a shock for me because
a) holy cow I've been sore for the past three days
and
b) when did kids get so mean? I love kids, but I don't love them so much when they're screaming at each other (and me) about who should be the medic, and who is too terrible at life and at all things athletic to be medic. Amy, who is the most even-tempered person I know, spent half the night whipping balls at this one 5th grader who was being an absolute jerk. He was throwing balls back at her, but man, Amy has an arm, and what's more, she was MAD. Forgive me, but it was fun to watch.
4. Work. Always, always work. I still love working at Target, but sometimes I feel like I come off as kind of a bonehead because I always have to ask questions and I always have these embarrassing space cadet moments (mostly stemming, I would like to point out, from lack of sleep). Sometimes I want to scream for the whole store to hear that I'm an Honors student, that I go to Morris, that I can do a mean crossword puzzle. But I guess I'd rather come off as stupid than crazy.
***Here's Medic for those of you who had slightly joyless childhoods: the gym is divided in half, 1 team on either side. A million of those soft, foam-filled balls are released. Each team throws balls at the other team, trying to hit them. Once you're hit, you have to sit down, and you cannot get up until your team's designated medic touches your shoulder and 'heals' you. If one of the medics is hit by a ball, they also have to sit down, and can't get up again until they manage to hit someone on the other team (from their sitting position). A team wins when all of the opposing team's players are down, including their medic.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
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
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
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Early Morning Breakthrough
This you should know about me: I'm kind of bad at talking about literature. At least, I'm bad at talking about literature in class.
Today, however, today was a breakthrough.
We're studying Carl Sandburg in class. I love Carl Sandburg. He writes poetry the way I think I would write poetry if I had sufficient talent in the area.
Anyway, here's the poem we were talking about ("Child of the Romans"):
THE dago shovelman sits by the railroad track
Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna.
A train whirls by, and men and women at tables
Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils,
Eat steaks running with brown gravy,
Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee.
The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna,
Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy,
And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day's work
Keeping the road-bed so the roses and jonquils
Shake hardly at all in the cut glass vases
Standing slender on the tables in the dining cars.
And all of the sudden, while staring at this poem, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, hoping to goodness the professor wouldn't call on me, I got it. I was pulling out patterns and symbols and random observations like there was no tomorrow.
I guess "Child of the Romans" is kind of an obvious poem, but it was a proud moment for me nonetheless. I think I'm officially an English major now.
Today, however, today was a breakthrough.
We're studying Carl Sandburg in class. I love Carl Sandburg. He writes poetry the way I think I would write poetry if I had sufficient talent in the area.
Anyway, here's the poem we were talking about ("Child of the Romans"):
THE dago shovelman sits by the railroad track
Eating a noon meal of bread and bologna.
A train whirls by, and men and women at tables
Alive with red roses and yellow jonquils,
Eat steaks running with brown gravy,
Strawberries and cream, eclaires and coffee.
The dago shovelman finishes the dry bread and bologna,
Washes it down with a dipper from the water-boy,
And goes back to the second half of a ten-hour day's work
Keeping the road-bed so the roses and jonquils
Shake hardly at all in the cut glass vases
Standing slender on the tables in the dining cars.
And all of the sudden, while staring at this poem, sweat dripping down the back of my neck, hoping to goodness the professor wouldn't call on me, I got it. I was pulling out patterns and symbols and random observations like there was no tomorrow.
I guess "Child of the Romans" is kind of an obvious poem, but it was a proud moment for me nonetheless. I think I'm officially an English major now.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Zombie Prom
For some reason I feel like Morris is the only place on Earth where you can watch Zombieland in your dorm with some friends, and then emerge to a real zombie-infested campus.
The graveyard, which was gazed at with apprehension by every incoming UMMer, has suddenly become deliciously appropriate.
Briggs Library has been turned into a large makeup room, where theater kids charge money for the plastering on of white goop and black smears of kohl.
Fake blood simmers in pots in the dorms, and tubes of it litter tables in the lounges.
That's right. It's Zombie Prom here at UMM, and a peek into the Student Center after 9 p.m. reveals the horde at its finest.
Some female zombies, taking the name of the event literally, are dressed up, wearing old prom dresses and hideous bridesmaid dresses and wedding dresses found at Salvo. All are torn to show a considerable amount of skin, because even the undead want to sex it up.
Some zombies are wearing scrubs, the bright bunny patterns distorted with holes and smears of dirt and blood.
Some zombies, probably the most realistic (or least ambitious) ones, are wearing jeans and t-shirts, shredded to reveal ghastly wounds.
Some zombies, who apparently haven't come into their own yet, wear halloween masks and cloaks. To make up for their off costumes, a few of them walk with a stunted shuffle, holding their arms out awkwardly and moaning. They leave early.
A group of begowned girls who have drifted out into the hallway now sprint by, lured back into the throng by the opening notes of "Bad Romance." Following them is a wave of hairspray that floats up toward the ceiling, not bothering the fire alarm system at all; it has already been disengaged in order to accomodate the fog machines.
Freshman zombies, clearly recognizable, stumble a little bit, laughing too loudly and clustering in chattering gaggles. They have carried with them, perhaps from middle school, the infamous circle dance. Heads down arms up they shriek and giggle and nudge each other for no apparent reason, grinning in delight at the joy of being young and in college and zombified. They arrived at the dance only fifteen minutes after it began, and will not leave until the last song has been played and the techies start coiling up the cords beneath their tired feet.
When the hypnotic lights, loud bass and thick makeup become too much, zombies trickle out to the mall where they can talk without shouting. It's a cold night, but no one seems to feel it for several minutes. In that time, they grip their friends' hands and in shocked voices tell about who was grinding on who. They gallop down the sidewalk against the fresh air.
They look up at the Morris stars and in their zombie hearts they are happy. They are covered in blood, their ears are ringing, and the threat of tomorrow's studying looms on the horizon. Still, the cute boy from Intro. to Psych smiled at them over the bobbing crowd. They have no curfew. They're young and in college and zombified. Undead life is good.
The graveyard, which was gazed at with apprehension by every incoming UMMer, has suddenly become deliciously appropriate.
Briggs Library has been turned into a large makeup room, where theater kids charge money for the plastering on of white goop and black smears of kohl.
Fake blood simmers in pots in the dorms, and tubes of it litter tables in the lounges.
That's right. It's Zombie Prom here at UMM, and a peek into the Student Center after 9 p.m. reveals the horde at its finest.
Some female zombies, taking the name of the event literally, are dressed up, wearing old prom dresses and hideous bridesmaid dresses and wedding dresses found at Salvo. All are torn to show a considerable amount of skin, because even the undead want to sex it up.
Some zombies are wearing scrubs, the bright bunny patterns distorted with holes and smears of dirt and blood.
Some zombies, probably the most realistic (or least ambitious) ones, are wearing jeans and t-shirts, shredded to reveal ghastly wounds.
Some zombies, who apparently haven't come into their own yet, wear halloween masks and cloaks. To make up for their off costumes, a few of them walk with a stunted shuffle, holding their arms out awkwardly and moaning. They leave early.
A group of begowned girls who have drifted out into the hallway now sprint by, lured back into the throng by the opening notes of "Bad Romance." Following them is a wave of hairspray that floats up toward the ceiling, not bothering the fire alarm system at all; it has already been disengaged in order to accomodate the fog machines.
Freshman zombies, clearly recognizable, stumble a little bit, laughing too loudly and clustering in chattering gaggles. They have carried with them, perhaps from middle school, the infamous circle dance. Heads down arms up they shriek and giggle and nudge each other for no apparent reason, grinning in delight at the joy of being young and in college and zombified. They arrived at the dance only fifteen minutes after it began, and will not leave until the last song has been played and the techies start coiling up the cords beneath their tired feet.
When the hypnotic lights, loud bass and thick makeup become too much, zombies trickle out to the mall where they can talk without shouting. It's a cold night, but no one seems to feel it for several minutes. In that time, they grip their friends' hands and in shocked voices tell about who was grinding on who. They gallop down the sidewalk against the fresh air.
They look up at the Morris stars and in their zombie hearts they are happy. They are covered in blood, their ears are ringing, and the threat of tomorrow's studying looms on the horizon. Still, the cute boy from Intro. to Psych smiled at them over the bobbing crowd. They have no curfew. They're young and in college and zombified. Undead life is good.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Perceptions of Morris, an Email Story
Email No. 1:
Hey everybody!!!
I just want to write to everyone and say.....
I love you. I love morris. Here are my reasons for loving morris:
(btw taco i had you in mind when i wrote this)
i love that winter lasts 9 months out of the year here
i love the smell of manure in the morning.
i love how people never hold open the door when im right behind you
i love how the members of mpirg say they want to "help the earth" and "save
humanity" yet only one member shows up for the highway cleanup and not one
member participated in the food drive last semester
i love how you all think you are going to change the world
i love how you pretend to look at your phone as i walk by when you very
well know im walking toward you
i love how everyone here is so friendly towards me at face value only
i love the passive aggressive use of facebook
i love how you all think this school is better than harvard
i love the professors sunny attitudes and friendly dispositions :) while
they are telling me i am an idiot
i love how people insist on their love for morris then leave every weekend
for somewhere else
i love how no one boos anyone off stage at open mic even though our ears
are crying blood
i love that the city doesn't snow plow unless they feel like it even though
there is a foot of snow on the streets and even walking is difficult
i love that everyone judges
i love that all the science majors think each class is like some kind of
"competition" and refuse to help eachother out
i love that you make me feel like May 14th is so many years away
i love that i will never ever come back
PEACE
Email No. 2:
In response to an e-mail sent out to the listserv a bit ago, I would like to
share my personal feelings about Morris and the people here. There's enough
hate in this world, we don't need to feel miserable about ourselves.
Oh, Morris, how I love thee. Let me count the ways...
I love how tuition is so low that people like me actually get paid to study
here.
I love the small class sizes.
I love the theatre discipline, that's small enough to give me plenty of
opportunities to develop my skills without being constantly shot down my
competition.
I love the sense of pride this school has, so, even when we know we aren't
the best, we at least feel like we are.
I love how, out of all the places I've lived in my 20 years on this earth,
Morris is the only place that has ever made me feel at home.
I love when we always complain that it's too hot or too cold, but, in our
hearts, we wouldn't want it any other way.
I love that, even if we don't actually *do* all the things we say we want to
do to help the world, we at least have the brains and the balls to admit
that something's wrong and we need to do something about it.
I love when people you barely know can tell something's troubling you, and
will make sure you get a hug or an anonymous letter in your PO box.
I love how the campus is so small that you know a majority of the people you
cross paths with.
I love that you can go a day with three of your professors saying an offhand
remark that significantly boosts your self-esteem.
I love that when a friend says they love you, they really do love you.
I love how, even if it isn't expected that you'll make something of
yourself, you are still given the fuel to keep on dreaming.
I love how students are given the opportunity to be an active member of a
discipline that is not their own.
I love that you can be friends with your neighbor.
I love how Morris is big enough that you can always find something to do,
but small enough that you can live on one side of town and walk to campus on
the other.
I love how classmates and professors will constantly push you to step out of
your comfort zone and try something new.
I love that these new things you're pressured to try usually end up being
tons of fun.
I love how everyone I know here is now part of my extended "Morris family."
I love how, when something like a laptop gets stolen, the entire community
comes together to defend and protect the victim.
I love that you don't have to lock your bike up for fear of it being stolen.
I love how we're sophisticated, but not pretentious.
I love American Indian tuition waivers.
I love our one grocery store, even if its name is a double-entendre.
I love how I can come up with more good things about this town than bad.
I love that the LGBT community on this campus actually has strength.
I love that, as a gay person, I don't have to feel ashamed or embarrassed
while I'm here.
I love how I can still be great friends with my biggest competition.
I love you.
So turn those frowns upside-down, my fellow UMM-ers! I've only been here for
three semesters, but it has, and I'm being completely sincere when I say
this, the best year-and--half of my life. I'm sorry that some people have
had an awful experience during their stay here, but I just wanted to
reassure anyone questioning the quality of life in this gorgeous town that
there are people who love it here.
Thanks for reading.
Ian Bloomquist
Hey everybody!!!
I just want to write to everyone and say.....
I love you. I love morris. Here are my reasons for loving morris:
(btw taco i had you in mind when i wrote this)
i love that winter lasts 9 months out of the year here
i love the smell of manure in the morning.
i love how people never hold open the door when im right behind you
i love how the members of mpirg say they want to "help the earth" and "save
humanity" yet only one member shows up for the highway cleanup and not one
member participated in the food drive last semester
i love how you all think you are going to change the world
i love how you pretend to look at your phone as i walk by when you very
well know im walking toward you
i love how everyone here is so friendly towards me at face value only
i love the passive aggressive use of facebook
i love how you all think this school is better than harvard
i love the professors sunny attitudes and friendly dispositions :) while
they are telling me i am an idiot
i love how people insist on their love for morris then leave every weekend
for somewhere else
i love how no one boos anyone off stage at open mic even though our ears
are crying blood
i love that the city doesn't snow plow unless they feel like it even though
there is a foot of snow on the streets and even walking is difficult
i love that everyone judges
i love that all the science majors think each class is like some kind of
"competition" and refuse to help eachother out
i love that you make me feel like May 14th is so many years away
i love that i will never ever come back
PEACE
Email No. 2:
In response to an e-mail sent out to the listserv a bit ago, I would like to
share my personal feelings about Morris and the people here. There's enough
hate in this world, we don't need to feel miserable about ourselves.
Oh, Morris, how I love thee. Let me count the ways...
I love how tuition is so low that people like me actually get paid to study
here.
I love the small class sizes.
I love the theatre discipline, that's small enough to give me plenty of
opportunities to develop my skills without being constantly shot down my
competition.
I love the sense of pride this school has, so, even when we know we aren't
the best, we at least feel like we are.
I love how, out of all the places I've lived in my 20 years on this earth,
Morris is the only place that has ever made me feel at home.
I love when we always complain that it's too hot or too cold, but, in our
hearts, we wouldn't want it any other way.
I love that, even if we don't actually *do* all the things we say we want to
do to help the world, we at least have the brains and the balls to admit
that something's wrong and we need to do something about it.
I love when people you barely know can tell something's troubling you, and
will make sure you get a hug or an anonymous letter in your PO box.
I love how the campus is so small that you know a majority of the people you
cross paths with.
I love that you can go a day with three of your professors saying an offhand
remark that significantly boosts your self-esteem.
I love that when a friend says they love you, they really do love you.
I love how, even if it isn't expected that you'll make something of
yourself, you are still given the fuel to keep on dreaming.
I love how students are given the opportunity to be an active member of a
discipline that is not their own.
I love that you can be friends with your neighbor.
I love how Morris is big enough that you can always find something to do,
but small enough that you can live on one side of town and walk to campus on
the other.
I love how classmates and professors will constantly push you to step out of
your comfort zone and try something new.
I love that these new things you're pressured to try usually end up being
tons of fun.
I love how everyone I know here is now part of my extended "Morris family."
I love how, when something like a laptop gets stolen, the entire community
comes together to defend and protect the victim.
I love that you don't have to lock your bike up for fear of it being stolen.
I love how we're sophisticated, but not pretentious.
I love American Indian tuition waivers.
I love our one grocery store, even if its name is a double-entendre.
I love how I can come up with more good things about this town than bad.
I love that the LGBT community on this campus actually has strength.
I love that, as a gay person, I don't have to feel ashamed or embarrassed
while I'm here.
I love how I can still be great friends with my biggest competition.
I love you.
So turn those frowns upside-down, my fellow UMM-ers! I've only been here for
three semesters, but it has, and I'm being completely sincere when I say
this, the best year-and--half of my life. I'm sorry that some people have
had an awful experience during their stay here, but I just wanted to
reassure anyone questioning the quality of life in this gorgeous town that
there are people who love it here.
Thanks for reading.
Ian Bloomquist
Friday, September 3, 2010
Reasons Why I'm Happy (A List)
I'm happy today. Happier than I've been in a long time. Not that I'm not a happy person in general, but this kind of bouncy, fizzy, spontaneous, wonderful happiness only comes around every so often, only lasts for a limited time, and only occurs for the following reasons:
1. It's Friday, the beginning of Labor Day weekend. Hence, I have no classes until Tuesday AND therefore have a short week next week.
2. Along with some dorm mates, tonight I have chosen to rebel against the hit-but-most-often-miss Food Service and make the trek to China Buffet instead.
3. The weather outside is my very favorite kind of weather; windy, mid-60's, sunny, and Fallish.
4. I'm wearing a comfy purple plaid shirt. Sometimes your clothes just make your day, I think.
5. Tonight is free movie night on campus, and District 9 is showing. Not that that particular movie exactly fits my happy mood, but how can you go wrong with a free movie? (Actually, I lied. The free movie last year was G-Force. That was very, very wrong).
6. Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Paul with some friends to shop at bookstores, to eat Cossetta's pizza, and to generally revel in the glory that is a big city.
7. I got my first birthday card today! I'm turning 20 in 5 days, you guys! It's really happening, and I'm actually okay with it. Not that there's anything I can do to prevent my aging anyway.
8. I had a good time in class today. Didn't embarrass myself in German I, spoke up a few times in American Lit., and learned a great deal despite it being Friday and beautiful.
1. It's Friday, the beginning of Labor Day weekend. Hence, I have no classes until Tuesday AND therefore have a short week next week.
2. Along with some dorm mates, tonight I have chosen to rebel against the hit-but-most-often-miss Food Service and make the trek to China Buffet instead.
3. The weather outside is my very favorite kind of weather; windy, mid-60's, sunny, and Fallish.
4. I'm wearing a comfy purple plaid shirt. Sometimes your clothes just make your day, I think.
5. Tonight is free movie night on campus, and District 9 is showing. Not that that particular movie exactly fits my happy mood, but how can you go wrong with a free movie? (Actually, I lied. The free movie last year was G-Force. That was very, very wrong).
6. Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Paul with some friends to shop at bookstores, to eat Cossetta's pizza, and to generally revel in the glory that is a big city.
7. I got my first birthday card today! I'm turning 20 in 5 days, you guys! It's really happening, and I'm actually okay with it. Not that there's anything I can do to prevent my aging anyway.
8. I had a good time in class today. Didn't embarrass myself in German I, spoke up a few times in American Lit., and learned a great deal despite it being Friday and beautiful.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
That'll Do, Pig. That'll Do.
Maddie, King and I were walking across the Mall today. We were talking about our favorite childhood movies, and from there we got on the topic of the movie Babe.
We then realized that there was a catch phrase of sorts in that movie that the old farmer says to Babe after Babe successfully herds the sheep.
We walked to dinner trying to figure it out.
We talked about it at dinner.
When we got back to the dorm, Maddie and I decided to go downstairs to talk to Tim.
On our way to Tim's room, we walked past Brochman's room. Brochman came out to chat, his fingers holding his place in Arabian Nights.
I asked him about the book, saying that I had never read it and had always wanted to.
Brochman: Arabian nights is basically a story within a story within a story. It starts with a princess who's going to have her head cut off. She starts to tell her captor a story to prolong her life. In her story, there's a genie who pops out of a lamp and begins to tell a story, and in the genie's story someone else is telling a story, and it just keeps going on.*
Maddie: Have you ever seen the movie Babe?
Brochman: Well that was random. Yeah I think I have. Why?
Holly: Because we've been trying to figure out what the old farmer says to Babe after he herds the sheep. It's like 'atta pig' or 'good pig' or something like that. It's a catch phrase of sorts.
Brochman: I have no idea.
-random boy walks in-
Brochman: Do you know what the old farmer guy says to Babe after he herds the sheep?
Boy 1: No idea.
-another random boy walks in-
Boy 1: You know in the movie Babe, when Babe herds the sheep? What does the old farmer say to him?
Boy 2: Gosh, I don't know. I haven't seen that movie in a really long time.
Boy 1: I'll look it up.
-Boy 1 goes in room and shuts door-
-Boy 2 goes in room and shuts door-
-Maddie, Holly, and Brochman continue chatting-
-Boy 1 opens door of room, and steps into hallway-
Boy 1: That'll do, pig. That'll do.
-Boy 1 goes back into room and shuts door-
-Boy 2 comes out of room-
Boy 2: That'll do, pig. That'll do.
-Boy 2 goes back into room and closes door-
Pretty sure we accidently semi experienced the chain reaction of Arabian Nights in real life.
College is epic.
*Note: I paraphrased Brochman's summary of Arabian Nights (as did he, probably, when he summarized it). May not be completely accurate.
We then realized that there was a catch phrase of sorts in that movie that the old farmer says to Babe after Babe successfully herds the sheep.
We walked to dinner trying to figure it out.
We talked about it at dinner.
When we got back to the dorm, Maddie and I decided to go downstairs to talk to Tim.
On our way to Tim's room, we walked past Brochman's room. Brochman came out to chat, his fingers holding his place in Arabian Nights.
I asked him about the book, saying that I had never read it and had always wanted to.
Brochman: Arabian nights is basically a story within a story within a story. It starts with a princess who's going to have her head cut off. She starts to tell her captor a story to prolong her life. In her story, there's a genie who pops out of a lamp and begins to tell a story, and in the genie's story someone else is telling a story, and it just keeps going on.*
Maddie: Have you ever seen the movie Babe?
Brochman: Well that was random. Yeah I think I have. Why?
Holly: Because we've been trying to figure out what the old farmer says to Babe after he herds the sheep. It's like 'atta pig' or 'good pig' or something like that. It's a catch phrase of sorts.
Brochman: I have no idea.
-random boy walks in-
Brochman: Do you know what the old farmer guy says to Babe after he herds the sheep?
Boy 1: No idea.
-another random boy walks in-
Boy 1: You know in the movie Babe, when Babe herds the sheep? What does the old farmer say to him?
Boy 2: Gosh, I don't know. I haven't seen that movie in a really long time.
Boy 1: I'll look it up.
-Boy 1 goes in room and shuts door-
-Boy 2 goes in room and shuts door-
-Maddie, Holly, and Brochman continue chatting-
-Boy 1 opens door of room, and steps into hallway-
Boy 1: That'll do, pig. That'll do.
-Boy 1 goes back into room and shuts door-
-Boy 2 comes out of room-
Boy 2: That'll do, pig. That'll do.
-Boy 2 goes back into room and closes door-
Pretty sure we accidently semi experienced the chain reaction of Arabian Nights in real life.
College is epic.
*Note: I paraphrased Brochman's summary of Arabian Nights (as did he, probably, when he summarized it). May not be completely accurate.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Platypus to Chimpanzee
You know, maybe dreaming about platypuses (I looked it up: it's platypuses, not platypii like I thought), and about chimpanzees who are really orangutans is an omen of some sort. I'm going to believe so, at least. Because about an hour after I had that dream, and a half hour after I posted about it, one of the worst mornings of my life began. And after that? One of the best afternoons of my life began.
You see, when I posted this morning, I hadn't yet looked in the mirror. When I did, I got a huge surprise. Bed head. Major major bed head in the worst form possible. Not sexy "oh my goodness I look a bit rumpled this fine morning" bed head, but "holy man there is no way I can successfully flatten this mess out before I have to leave for work" bed head.
Well, I did eventually succeed at taming a particularly cheeky lock that felt the need to sproing out despite numerous brushings, straightenings, curlings, and gelings. A pint of hair spray finally did the trick (note to self: try the hairspray first).
But that's just the superficial part of my morning. The emotional part was when I dashed out to the garage, already slightly late for work, to find that the Oldsmobile was gone. Oh. Okay. Well I'll just take the van, then.
Grab key from drawer in kitchen, jump over dog, fling open door to other garage.
Van's gone too.
Ready? Here comes the emotional part. My family had evidently forgotten that I worked at 10 a.m., and had gone off to play volleyball and go for a run respectively. That's right; vehicles are needed to go running now. It's the new thing.
(Sorry if I'm sounding bitter here. In all honesty, it was probably my fault; maybe I wasn't clear when I said what time I worked. I'm simply trying to convey this morning's state of mind.)
Pure panic. Dialing numbers, pacing back and forth between windows, muttering, wailing, crying...
I called work as soon as I realized my predicament, and when I spoke to the LOD she sounded kind of annoyed, which freaked me out even more. Was this going to be the straw to break the camel's back? I was getting fired. Shoot.
It all turned out okay in the end, don't worry. Mom got home fairly quickly, and I managed to be only five minutes or so late for work. Also, I apologized in person to the LOD and she was totally cool about it. Said that it happens to everyone, and that she's not worried about me and knows that it won't happen again.
That was the platypus part of my day.
Here comes the chimpanzee:
This afternoon was one of the best working days I've ever had. After the initial carless drama was over, I truly began to enjoy myself. A lot of help was needed cashiering, so I was constantly running up there to back up. I like cashiering, too. I like being face-to-face with guests in that way, and I like being able to stand still for a few minutes, and I like seeing all the strange things people buy. I also like that time flies when I'm cashiering.
Besides cashiering, the other duty that took up most of my work afternoon was covering Kyle's breaks back in electronics. I think we were both kind of surprised that I was the one covering; I have very limited experience in electronics, and don't know anything besides the basic "sure I can unlock that game case for you, sir."
Despite said lack of experience, I actually came to enjoy working back there. Electronics is its own little world in a way. If I really wanted to be metaphorical, I might say that the prow of the boat pushes against, but doesn't quite puncture, the bubble of the rest of the store. Waves break over cameras and high definition TVs, and dolphins leap across the surface at the flashing of lights from the Wii display. -end metaphor-
Anyway, what really made my afternoon over in electronics was this elderly man who came over wanting some help finding the correct ink cartridges for his printer. He flagged me down (I was over by the DVDs) by actually getting up out of his power chair and walking over: "Miss? Can I get some help over here?"
He handed me a splattered plastic baggie. Inside were the two cartridges he wanted replaced. Unfortunately, one of them was so covered in splotches of blue ink that I couldn't' read the number on it.
Well, I did the best I could, and managed, through some clumsy deduction, to find the correct package of ink for his printer. Kyle arrived at just the right moment (I think I might have actually let slip a "thank goodness") to confirm that I was right about the numbers.
And do you know what that old man did then? He stuck out his hand, shook mine (I saw Kyle grin from off to the side), and told me that he was one of the original Target employees; he had worked at the very first Target (in Roseville) back in the 1960's. He said that he had hired a lot of people in his time, and that I was one of the good ones.
That, my friends, is what turned my day from a flesh-eating platypus into a best friend chimpanzee/orangutan.
You see, when I posted this morning, I hadn't yet looked in the mirror. When I did, I got a huge surprise. Bed head. Major major bed head in the worst form possible. Not sexy "oh my goodness I look a bit rumpled this fine morning" bed head, but "holy man there is no way I can successfully flatten this mess out before I have to leave for work" bed head.
Well, I did eventually succeed at taming a particularly cheeky lock that felt the need to sproing out despite numerous brushings, straightenings, curlings, and gelings. A pint of hair spray finally did the trick (note to self: try the hairspray first).
But that's just the superficial part of my morning. The emotional part was when I dashed out to the garage, already slightly late for work, to find that the Oldsmobile was gone. Oh. Okay. Well I'll just take the van, then.
Grab key from drawer in kitchen, jump over dog, fling open door to other garage.
Van's gone too.
Ready? Here comes the emotional part. My family had evidently forgotten that I worked at 10 a.m., and had gone off to play volleyball and go for a run respectively. That's right; vehicles are needed to go running now. It's the new thing.
(Sorry if I'm sounding bitter here. In all honesty, it was probably my fault; maybe I wasn't clear when I said what time I worked. I'm simply trying to convey this morning's state of mind.)
Pure panic. Dialing numbers, pacing back and forth between windows, muttering, wailing, crying...
I called work as soon as I realized my predicament, and when I spoke to the LOD she sounded kind of annoyed, which freaked me out even more. Was this going to be the straw to break the camel's back? I was getting fired. Shoot.
It all turned out okay in the end, don't worry. Mom got home fairly quickly, and I managed to be only five minutes or so late for work. Also, I apologized in person to the LOD and she was totally cool about it. Said that it happens to everyone, and that she's not worried about me and knows that it won't happen again.
That was the platypus part of my day.
Here comes the chimpanzee:
This afternoon was one of the best working days I've ever had. After the initial carless drama was over, I truly began to enjoy myself. A lot of help was needed cashiering, so I was constantly running up there to back up. I like cashiering, too. I like being face-to-face with guests in that way, and I like being able to stand still for a few minutes, and I like seeing all the strange things people buy. I also like that time flies when I'm cashiering.
Besides cashiering, the other duty that took up most of my work afternoon was covering Kyle's breaks back in electronics. I think we were both kind of surprised that I was the one covering; I have very limited experience in electronics, and don't know anything besides the basic "sure I can unlock that game case for you, sir."
Despite said lack of experience, I actually came to enjoy working back there. Electronics is its own little world in a way. If I really wanted to be metaphorical, I might say that the prow of the boat pushes against, but doesn't quite puncture, the bubble of the rest of the store. Waves break over cameras and high definition TVs, and dolphins leap across the surface at the flashing of lights from the Wii display. -end metaphor-
Anyway, what really made my afternoon over in electronics was this elderly man who came over wanting some help finding the correct ink cartridges for his printer. He flagged me down (I was over by the DVDs) by actually getting up out of his power chair and walking over: "Miss? Can I get some help over here?"
He handed me a splattered plastic baggie. Inside were the two cartridges he wanted replaced. Unfortunately, one of them was so covered in splotches of blue ink that I couldn't' read the number on it.
Well, I did the best I could, and managed, through some clumsy deduction, to find the correct package of ink for his printer. Kyle arrived at just the right moment (I think I might have actually let slip a "thank goodness") to confirm that I was right about the numbers.
And do you know what that old man did then? He stuck out his hand, shook mine (I saw Kyle grin from off to the side), and told me that he was one of the original Target employees; he had worked at the very first Target (in Roseville) back in the 1960's. He said that he had hired a lot of people in his time, and that I was one of the good ones.
That, my friends, is what turned my day from a flesh-eating platypus into a best friend chimpanzee/orangutan.
A Dream With Good Timing
Have to quickly record a really, really strange dream I had last night.
In the dream, I was watching a bad movie. I mean, the entire dream was literally the movie. Here's what I remember of it:
This little boy's mother was getting remarried to an awful guy, of course, and while the wedding preparations were taking place, the boy and his pet/best friend chimpanzee (in the dream I called it a chimpanzee, but it really looked more like an orangutan...) ran away to a jungle in South America.
While they were exploring the jungle, they came upon a wild platypus that was wandering around. They didn't know what it was, had never seen one before, so they decided to go up and pet it. The platypus obviously wasn't too happy about this, and was getting kind of ticked off (this was where tension rose in the movie), but the chimpanzee kept petting it anyway.
All of the sudden, the platypus struck; it turned around and bit the chimpanzee in the face, and then proceeded to start to eat him. The boy shrieked, "He's eating him!" and ran to save his friend. He somehow managed to drag the chimpanzee away and escape.
Meanwhile, back at the house, the wedding was about to take place. The boy's mother and soon-to-be-stepfather weren't too concerned about the fact that the boy was missing. That is, until they realized that they needed him to be in the wedding photographs.
Meanwhile, back in South America, the boy and the chimpanzee were resting by a waterfall, having successfully outrun the platypus. Suddenly, the platypus popped out of the water, and at the same time my alarm went off and I woke up.
In the dream, I was watching a bad movie. I mean, the entire dream was literally the movie. Here's what I remember of it:
This little boy's mother was getting remarried to an awful guy, of course, and while the wedding preparations were taking place, the boy and his pet/best friend chimpanzee (in the dream I called it a chimpanzee, but it really looked more like an orangutan...) ran away to a jungle in South America.
While they were exploring the jungle, they came upon a wild platypus that was wandering around. They didn't know what it was, had never seen one before, so they decided to go up and pet it. The platypus obviously wasn't too happy about this, and was getting kind of ticked off (this was where tension rose in the movie), but the chimpanzee kept petting it anyway.
All of the sudden, the platypus struck; it turned around and bit the chimpanzee in the face, and then proceeded to start to eat him. The boy shrieked, "He's eating him!" and ran to save his friend. He somehow managed to drag the chimpanzee away and escape.
Meanwhile, back at the house, the wedding was about to take place. The boy's mother and soon-to-be-stepfather weren't too concerned about the fact that the boy was missing. That is, until they realized that they needed him to be in the wedding photographs.
Meanwhile, back in South America, the boy and the chimpanzee were resting by a waterfall, having successfully outrun the platypus. Suddenly, the platypus popped out of the water, and at the same time my alarm went off and I woke up.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Birds
Work today was an adventure, as always. It was day two of cleaning out the fixture room, and I was happily flinging unwanted cardboard boxes and plastic screws and heavy metal shelves into the large dumpsters left in the parking lot by the remodel construction crew. I had jumped at the chance to perform that specific task; not only was it a joy to be outdoors, to be soaked in sun and wind while working, but it was also fun to toss the various items into the dumpsters. Nobody was watching, so I could throw clothing racks like javelins, toss signs high enough that they floated and flipped in the air, and even whistle. There was nobody in that parking lot to hear me and to be annoyed.
As I was merrily going about my work, I looked up to see a huge flock of seagulls passing overhead. They were, I assumed, the kind of birds that inhabit parking lots across the country, finding comfort in a sea of black tar, and nourishment in empty slushie cups and shredded candy wrappers. Still staring up at them, I suddenly noticed that slimy white bullets were falling from their midst onto the pavement around me. I shrieked and ran for the store, dodging the hail of poop as if I were running across a battlefield through a torrent of bombs.
Once inside, I pawed at my hair and inspected my clothes until I was completely convinced that I had managed to escape the fecal attack unscathed. My coworkers laughed at me, of course. I didn't mind; I'm sure the sight of me bolting across the parking lot screaming was pretty funny. I had a good laugh myself afterwords. Not at my own antics, however, but at what I see as a deliberate practical joke carried out by that flock of seagulls.
And you know what? If I were a bird, I think I would get a kick out of doing the exact same thing.
As I was merrily going about my work, I looked up to see a huge flock of seagulls passing overhead. They were, I assumed, the kind of birds that inhabit parking lots across the country, finding comfort in a sea of black tar, and nourishment in empty slushie cups and shredded candy wrappers. Still staring up at them, I suddenly noticed that slimy white bullets were falling from their midst onto the pavement around me. I shrieked and ran for the store, dodging the hail of poop as if I were running across a battlefield through a torrent of bombs.
Once inside, I pawed at my hair and inspected my clothes until I was completely convinced that I had managed to escape the fecal attack unscathed. My coworkers laughed at me, of course. I didn't mind; I'm sure the sight of me bolting across the parking lot screaming was pretty funny. I had a good laugh myself afterwords. Not at my own antics, however, but at what I see as a deliberate practical joke carried out by that flock of seagulls.
And you know what? If I were a bird, I think I would get a kick out of doing the exact same thing.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Final
I just sniffed my shirt. I smell like smoke and the outdoors. Perfect.
Today was the Pine Hall Picnic. It was really fun. Kelsie and I worked the grill, and everyone just chilled and ate. Later on we took a Pine photo with all of the residents and CA's crammed onto the stairs/fire escape.
We limboed
We danced
We walked casually through each other's photo shoots
We joked
We chased stray wrappers across the mini mall
The best part,though, was the fact that everyone was together enjoying themselves. All the drama and cliques sort of melted away and we became one hall again.
It's 4:01 p.m. and I'm finally about to buckle down and study for my finals. I have Brit. Lit. and Crusades on Monday, and Physical Anthropology on Wednesday.
It was definitely worth it to hang out outside for awhile, though. Studying can be done later, but having a blast with people you're going to miss over the summer is a one time deal.
Today was the Pine Hall Picnic. It was really fun. Kelsie and I worked the grill, and everyone just chilled and ate. Later on we took a Pine photo with all of the residents and CA's crammed onto the stairs/fire escape.
We limboed
We danced
We walked casually through each other's photo shoots
We joked
We chased stray wrappers across the mini mall
The best part,though, was the fact that everyone was together enjoying themselves. All the drama and cliques sort of melted away and we became one hall again.
It's 4:01 p.m. and I'm finally about to buckle down and study for my finals. I have Brit. Lit. and Crusades on Monday, and Physical Anthropology on Wednesday.
It was definitely worth it to hang out outside for awhile, though. Studying can be done later, but having a blast with people you're going to miss over the summer is a one time deal.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Zombieland
The Zombie apocalypse has come to Morris. Laugh if you will, but remember that it's only funny until you're being chased around campus by a horde of undead.
Henceforth, this blog will be officially tracking said zombie infestation (with comments from yours truly), until the last of the undead are, well, dead, or until I myself become one of them.
Here are the Human v. Zombie overview/rules (as posted on the website):
Humans vs. Zombies is essentially a game of tag...except on crack. Everyone who signs up begins as a human, everyone, that is, except for one randomly chosen player who becomes the first zombie. This zombie's job is to tag (infect) as many human players as possible in order to build up an unstoppable zombie plague. Humans, it is your job to evade these zombies and stay alive (not undead) for the entirety of the game. Human players will be able to use balled up socks as weapons in this battle. To designate teams, the Plague (zombies) will wear bandanas or strips of cloth around their heads or necks, while the Resistance (humans) will wear bandanas or strips of cloth around their arms. We have incredibly excellent missions planned for this game.
Humans: Run from Zombies.
Zombies: Eat some brains.
Rules:
Don't be a jerk.
SOCK BALLS ONLY!
No cars (segways allowed)
Required Equipment:
Bandana or some cloth to indicate you're playing. (We recommend cutting up an old/Salvo tshirt if you have no bandana)
Sock Ball
One ID index card to be kept on you at all times!
Safe Zones:
Residence Hall rooms/apartment/house bedroom (your own only, the house/apartment/public spaces are free game, HD apartments are safe in total), Bathrooms, Practice rooms in HFA, Tabling in the Student Center, Classrooms, Library, RFC, Health Center, Campus Events (Blood Drive, Play Practice, Dance Practice, Campus Tours, Meetings with Professors),Food Service,TMC is safe during breakfast, until 10 am (TMC is NOT safe after 10 am!), Stores and Restaurants off campus, CAs on rounds are safe, Working at your job ANYWHERE on campus (Zombies are not to attack anyone who is working at their area of employment, this does not count for schoolwork :) Please take off your bandana when you're at work to avoid issues). FLOGGING MOLLY CONCERT IS A SAFE ZONE, DO NOT PLAY WHILE AT THE CONCERT
Everywhere else is Free Game. NOTE: Please use your discretion when to make an area safe. Be respectful to the events going on around you. Our goal is not to interrupt and be a burden to campus and campus events. If you are tagged at a location you believe is safe, please email the moderator for a formal decision.
*A zombie must have both feet outside of a safe zone to tag a human.
Non-participants
People who are not registered participants may not directly interact with the game.
Human Rules
Conditions for Winning:
Humans win when the last zombie starves to death.
Bandana:
Humans must wear their bandanas around their arm at all times.
ID number:
Every Human player must keep one index card with their unique identification number on them at all times.
Stunning a Zombie:
Humans may stun a Zombie for 15 minutes by shooting them by throwing a sock at them. Sockballs are to be thrown-They are not to be used as melee weapons or be attached to your body in any way for easy retrieval. You may carry as many sockballs as you want.
When tagged by a Zombie:
When tagged by a Zombie, a Human is required to distribute their ID card. One hour from being tagged a Human becomes a member of the Zombie team.
*One hour from being tagged you must begin wearing your bandana around your head - you are then allowed to tag other Humans.
Zombie Rules
Conditions for Winning:
The Zombies win when the Human team has no remaining members.
Wearing your Headband:
The Zombie team must wear a bandana around their head or neck at all times.
THE ORIGINAL ZOMBIE:
An original zombie will be chosen at random (and notified by email of their status). For 24 hours (Noon Monday - Noon Tuesday) they DO NOT have to wear their bandana indicating zombiness. During that time they must try to tag AS MANY HUMANS AS POSSIBLE to begin the plague (simulating infection). Those tagged by the original zombie will hand over their ID card to be registered as killed, but will not become zombies until Tuesday at Noon-after the 24 hour incubation period. After that point, all people tagged by the OZ will become zombies and normal play begins with humans turning to zombies 1 hour after being tagged. After the 24 hour incubation period, the original zombie must begin wearing their bandana.
Tagging:
A tag is a firm touch to any part of a Human. After tagging a Human the Zombie must collect their ID card. Kills must be reported within three hours.
Feeding:
Zombie must feed every 48 hours. A zombie feeds by reporting their kill on the website. A zombie may choose two other zombies to join in the feed.
Getting shot:
When hit with a sock a Zombie is stunned for 15 minutes. A stunned zombie may not interact with the game in any way.
*This includes shielding other zombies from bullets or continuing to run toward a human.
*If hit while stunned, their stun time resets to 15 minutes.
-Here ends the copy/pasted website rules-
Okay, do you get it now? Good. Now I can get back into character, as explained in my own rules (as follows):
Holly's Rules for Surviving a Zombie Infestation:
1. Be Alert. Look over your shoulder constantly, peer around corners, leave safe areas cautiously. The minute you let your guard down, you WILL be attacked. This is war, folks, and if you want to survive, you need to treat it like a war.
2. Travel in Packs. There is indeed safety in numbers, and traveling with numbers makes it much easier to follow rule number 1. Assign each person in the pack a certain direction to scout out as you walk (Example: one person looks ahead, one looks behind, right, left, etc.).
3. Do Not Underestimate the Sockballl. While running away is always an option, it is not a very realistic one. For starters, you don't know how fast the attacking zombie is, and it is unwise to risk fleeing from someone who may be an Olympic sprinter. Secondly, running often separates you from the group, compromising the safety of all members. It is best, therefore, to form ranks with your human pack and fire sock missiles at all approaching zombies in order to immobilize them. Running away may work short term, but it does not give you the 15 minutes of safety guaranteed by sockballs.
4. Believe in the Zombie Apocalypse. As touched upon in my first rule, it is vital to treat this 'game' like it is ACTUALLY HAPPENING. Like it is not a game, but real life. Not only does staying in character (whether you're a human or a zombie) help you to stay alert and attentive, but it also makes the whole experience more enjoyable.
End rules.
Now I'll switch gears and give you an update. The OZ (original zombie), Mitch, got about 40 people yesterday. He's turned almost all of Gay Hall into zombies, and has infiltrated much of Spooner and the apartments as well.
As of this morning, one of our own Pine Hall residents has betrayed us all by going to Mitch and asking to be made into a zombie. Needless to say, his request was granted.
Current Totals:
261 Humans
58 Zombies (and increasing every minute)
How am I doing so far? Conditions are stable. Recieved a 5-man escort from my Crusades Class, and have since cautiously proceeded around the dorm. Laundry will wait until further notice. No sign of Aaron. Just in: Katie and Taylor (Pine) also infected. Grave news, as both are on my floor. Will carry a minimum of three sockballs at all times. Will sign off now in order to study for an exam. Stay safe, stay human, my friends. Over and out.
Henceforth, this blog will be officially tracking said zombie infestation (with comments from yours truly), until the last of the undead are, well, dead, or until I myself become one of them.
Here are the Human v. Zombie overview/rules (as posted on the website):
Humans vs. Zombies is essentially a game of tag...except on crack. Everyone who signs up begins as a human, everyone, that is, except for one randomly chosen player who becomes the first zombie. This zombie's job is to tag (infect) as many human players as possible in order to build up an unstoppable zombie plague. Humans, it is your job to evade these zombies and stay alive (not undead) for the entirety of the game. Human players will be able to use balled up socks as weapons in this battle. To designate teams, the Plague (zombies) will wear bandanas or strips of cloth around their heads or necks, while the Resistance (humans) will wear bandanas or strips of cloth around their arms. We have incredibly excellent missions planned for this game.
Humans: Run from Zombies.
Zombies: Eat some brains.
Rules:
Don't be a jerk.
SOCK BALLS ONLY!
No cars (segways allowed)
Required Equipment:
Bandana or some cloth to indicate you're playing. (We recommend cutting up an old/Salvo tshirt if you have no bandana)
Sock Ball
One ID index card to be kept on you at all times!
Safe Zones:
Residence Hall rooms/apartment/house bedroom (your own only, the house/apartment/public spaces are free game, HD apartments are safe in total), Bathrooms, Practice rooms in HFA, Tabling in the Student Center, Classrooms, Library, RFC, Health Center, Campus Events (Blood Drive, Play Practice, Dance Practice, Campus Tours, Meetings with Professors),Food Service,TMC is safe during breakfast, until 10 am (TMC is NOT safe after 10 am!), Stores and Restaurants off campus, CAs on rounds are safe, Working at your job ANYWHERE on campus (Zombies are not to attack anyone who is working at their area of employment, this does not count for schoolwork :) Please take off your bandana when you're at work to avoid issues). FLOGGING MOLLY CONCERT IS A SAFE ZONE, DO NOT PLAY WHILE AT THE CONCERT
Everywhere else is Free Game. NOTE: Please use your discretion when to make an area safe. Be respectful to the events going on around you. Our goal is not to interrupt and be a burden to campus and campus events. If you are tagged at a location you believe is safe, please email the moderator for a formal decision.
*A zombie must have both feet outside of a safe zone to tag a human.
Non-participants
People who are not registered participants may not directly interact with the game.
Human Rules
Conditions for Winning:
Humans win when the last zombie starves to death.
Bandana:
Humans must wear their bandanas around their arm at all times.
ID number:
Every Human player must keep one index card with their unique identification number on them at all times.
Stunning a Zombie:
Humans may stun a Zombie for 15 minutes by shooting them by throwing a sock at them. Sockballs are to be thrown-They are not to be used as melee weapons or be attached to your body in any way for easy retrieval. You may carry as many sockballs as you want.
When tagged by a Zombie:
When tagged by a Zombie, a Human is required to distribute their ID card. One hour from being tagged a Human becomes a member of the Zombie team.
*One hour from being tagged you must begin wearing your bandana around your head - you are then allowed to tag other Humans.
Zombie Rules
Conditions for Winning:
The Zombies win when the Human team has no remaining members.
Wearing your Headband:
The Zombie team must wear a bandana around their head or neck at all times.
THE ORIGINAL ZOMBIE:
An original zombie will be chosen at random (and notified by email of their status). For 24 hours (Noon Monday - Noon Tuesday) they DO NOT have to wear their bandana indicating zombiness. During that time they must try to tag AS MANY HUMANS AS POSSIBLE to begin the plague (simulating infection). Those tagged by the original zombie will hand over their ID card to be registered as killed, but will not become zombies until Tuesday at Noon-after the 24 hour incubation period. After that point, all people tagged by the OZ will become zombies and normal play begins with humans turning to zombies 1 hour after being tagged. After the 24 hour incubation period, the original zombie must begin wearing their bandana.
Tagging:
A tag is a firm touch to any part of a Human. After tagging a Human the Zombie must collect their ID card. Kills must be reported within three hours.
Feeding:
Zombie must feed every 48 hours. A zombie feeds by reporting their kill on the website. A zombie may choose two other zombies to join in the feed.
Getting shot:
When hit with a sock a Zombie is stunned for 15 minutes. A stunned zombie may not interact with the game in any way.
*This includes shielding other zombies from bullets or continuing to run toward a human.
*If hit while stunned, their stun time resets to 15 minutes.
-Here ends the copy/pasted website rules-
Okay, do you get it now? Good. Now I can get back into character, as explained in my own rules (as follows):
Holly's Rules for Surviving a Zombie Infestation:
1. Be Alert. Look over your shoulder constantly, peer around corners, leave safe areas cautiously. The minute you let your guard down, you WILL be attacked. This is war, folks, and if you want to survive, you need to treat it like a war.
2. Travel in Packs. There is indeed safety in numbers, and traveling with numbers makes it much easier to follow rule number 1. Assign each person in the pack a certain direction to scout out as you walk (Example: one person looks ahead, one looks behind, right, left, etc.).
3. Do Not Underestimate the Sockballl. While running away is always an option, it is not a very realistic one. For starters, you don't know how fast the attacking zombie is, and it is unwise to risk fleeing from someone who may be an Olympic sprinter. Secondly, running often separates you from the group, compromising the safety of all members. It is best, therefore, to form ranks with your human pack and fire sock missiles at all approaching zombies in order to immobilize them. Running away may work short term, but it does not give you the 15 minutes of safety guaranteed by sockballs.
4. Believe in the Zombie Apocalypse. As touched upon in my first rule, it is vital to treat this 'game' like it is ACTUALLY HAPPENING. Like it is not a game, but real life. Not only does staying in character (whether you're a human or a zombie) help you to stay alert and attentive, but it also makes the whole experience more enjoyable.
End rules.
Now I'll switch gears and give you an update. The OZ (original zombie), Mitch, got about 40 people yesterday. He's turned almost all of Gay Hall into zombies, and has infiltrated much of Spooner and the apartments as well.
As of this morning, one of our own Pine Hall residents has betrayed us all by going to Mitch and asking to be made into a zombie. Needless to say, his request was granted.
Current Totals:
261 Humans
58 Zombies (and increasing every minute)
How am I doing so far? Conditions are stable. Recieved a 5-man escort from my Crusades Class, and have since cautiously proceeded around the dorm. Laundry will wait until further notice. No sign of Aaron. Just in: Katie and Taylor (Pine) also infected. Grave news, as both are on my floor. Will carry a minimum of three sockballs at all times. Will sign off now in order to study for an exam. Stay safe, stay human, my friends. Over and out.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
All It Takes Is A Nerf Gun To The Head
Act One:
We find our protagonist in Crusades class. Her pencil is scratching roughly at her paper as she attempts to think of something to say. There is a sharp snap when the end of her lead breaks off and flies towards her neighbor's head (our fair protagonist doesn't mind this at all; the neighbor is annoying anyway).
The assignment? Listen to each of the six speakers as they present their argument as to why the 2nd Crusade failed, and think of a question to ask one of the speakers about his/her views on the topic. Participation is mandatory.
The problem? Our protagonist, though reasonably intelligent, is no good at thinking on her feet. Without more time and less pressure, we fear she is lost forever to the cycle of 'um I don't know.'
As the clock ticks down to the hour of her demise, our protagonist's blue eyes begin to reflect the desperation within. The professor is looking at her expectantly; she is the last one to answer. Our protagonist opens her mouth to speak and....
Out flies the most horrendous, nonsensical, redundant question anyone has ever heard. The classroom is completely still for a few seconds, and then with a great torrent of wind all heads whip towards the professor, who looks baffled as well. Finally, one of the speakers decides to save at least a little of our protagonist's dignity. He answers her question as best he can without touching on the idiocy of it all (bless him).
The scene closes on an emptying classroom. When the last student has thrust his arms into his coat sleeves and tossed his backpack over his shoulder, we see her. There, in the corner. The one with the bowed head and the warm cheeks (though there is no visible blush). It is our protagonist.
Lights dim as she slowly exits the classroom.
Act 2:
It is late afternoon by the time our protagonist arrives back at her dorm. She immediately walks down to her friend Tim's room, for Tim, she knows, is in possession of the ultimate weapon.
This weapon comes in many forms, but is known to all by one name: The Nerf Gun.
Tim protests at first, but once he sees the determination on our protagonist's face, he solemnly loads the gun and places it in her hands.
Our protagonist shakes as she holds the Nerf against her temple.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not much. It will be over quickly."
One squeeze of the trigger.
The Nerf dart that pierces her skull bores a hole straight into her common sense. Suddenly, everything is completely clear; our protagonist must embark on a crusade of her own. A crusade not against Turks, but against blank-headedness and dumb questions. She must wage a war against her own mind.
The play concludes with an orange Nerf Gun being carried into battle by our brave protagonist. She has found her wits at last.
We find our protagonist in Crusades class. Her pencil is scratching roughly at her paper as she attempts to think of something to say. There is a sharp snap when the end of her lead breaks off and flies towards her neighbor's head (our fair protagonist doesn't mind this at all; the neighbor is annoying anyway).
The assignment? Listen to each of the six speakers as they present their argument as to why the 2nd Crusade failed, and think of a question to ask one of the speakers about his/her views on the topic. Participation is mandatory.
The problem? Our protagonist, though reasonably intelligent, is no good at thinking on her feet. Without more time and less pressure, we fear she is lost forever to the cycle of 'um I don't know.'
As the clock ticks down to the hour of her demise, our protagonist's blue eyes begin to reflect the desperation within. The professor is looking at her expectantly; she is the last one to answer. Our protagonist opens her mouth to speak and....
Out flies the most horrendous, nonsensical, redundant question anyone has ever heard. The classroom is completely still for a few seconds, and then with a great torrent of wind all heads whip towards the professor, who looks baffled as well. Finally, one of the speakers decides to save at least a little of our protagonist's dignity. He answers her question as best he can without touching on the idiocy of it all (bless him).
The scene closes on an emptying classroom. When the last student has thrust his arms into his coat sleeves and tossed his backpack over his shoulder, we see her. There, in the corner. The one with the bowed head and the warm cheeks (though there is no visible blush). It is our protagonist.
Lights dim as she slowly exits the classroom.
Act 2:
It is late afternoon by the time our protagonist arrives back at her dorm. She immediately walks down to her friend Tim's room, for Tim, she knows, is in possession of the ultimate weapon.
This weapon comes in many forms, but is known to all by one name: The Nerf Gun.
Tim protests at first, but once he sees the determination on our protagonist's face, he solemnly loads the gun and places it in her hands.
Our protagonist shakes as she holds the Nerf against her temple.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not much. It will be over quickly."
One squeeze of the trigger.
The Nerf dart that pierces her skull bores a hole straight into her common sense. Suddenly, everything is completely clear; our protagonist must embark on a crusade of her own. A crusade not against Turks, but against blank-headedness and dumb questions. She must wage a war against her own mind.
The play concludes with an orange Nerf Gun being carried into battle by our brave protagonist. She has found her wits at last.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
I Live An Amazing Life
For example:
Last night, my roommate Ally and I realized that December 6th is St. Nicholas Day. On the eve of this day, you're supposed to put your shoes outside of your bedroom door in hopes that St. Nicholas will stop by and fill them with goodies. I convinced Ally that we should each put a shoe in the hallway outside our dorm room, though we we didn't really think that they would be filled when we woke up.
This morning, Ally woke me up by screaming, "He came, he came!"
In each of our shoes were two packs of gum, a package of hot chocolate, and a package of popcorn.
St. Nicholas is real.
Last night, my roommate Ally and I realized that December 6th is St. Nicholas Day. On the eve of this day, you're supposed to put your shoes outside of your bedroom door in hopes that St. Nicholas will stop by and fill them with goodies. I convinced Ally that we should each put a shoe in the hallway outside our dorm room, though we we didn't really think that they would be filled when we woke up.
This morning, Ally woke me up by screaming, "He came, he came!"
In each of our shoes were two packs of gum, a package of hot chocolate, and a package of popcorn.
St. Nicholas is real.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Thorough
If you are one of those people who likes titles to be explained, here's the explanation for mine:
In middle school the word 'thorough' was a word we had to know for a spelling test. I don't remember if I spelled it correctly or not on the test, but I've since become rather fond of/fascinated with the word.
Thoughts:
1. Sierra needs to turn down her music. I don't know if she's hard of hearing or what, but when you can hear the bass resonating throughout the dorm, the music is too loud. Furthermore (yes, I'm still going), I would not mind my bleeding ears were it not for the fact that she has never struck me as a very friendly person.
2. When you are in your intro. to literature class and a student calls the main character in "The Necklace" a 'greedy bitch,' and the professor agrees, then you know life is good.
3 . I have to wake up at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow for a College Bowl meet at Carleton. While I am in no way a morning person, getting up so extremely early should be fairly interesting. Plus, I can sleep during the drive down.
4. I should get going on my research paper for College Writing. I chose to write about "A Clockwork Orange" and how the use of Nadsat (the crazy Russian slang language) serves to make the entire novel more sinister rather than to muffle the violent acts taking place within it. We'll see how it goes.
5. I was in the library the other day and I almost cried because I happened to walk through the fiction section. Why the almost-tears? Because I couldn't check out one book; I already have too much reading to do for my classes.
6. The fetuses the conservative Republicans spray painted all over campus actually look more like turkey vultures than unborn babies. Coincidence?
7. It's Friday the thirteenth. I'm waiting for something creepy to happen. And no, the mysterious lunch menu at Food Service doesn't count.
8. I should really get to class.
In middle school the word 'thorough' was a word we had to know for a spelling test. I don't remember if I spelled it correctly or not on the test, but I've since become rather fond of/fascinated with the word.
Thoughts:
1. Sierra needs to turn down her music. I don't know if she's hard of hearing or what, but when you can hear the bass resonating throughout the dorm, the music is too loud. Furthermore (yes, I'm still going), I would not mind my bleeding ears were it not for the fact that she has never struck me as a very friendly person.
2. When you are in your intro. to literature class and a student calls the main character in "The Necklace" a 'greedy bitch,' and the professor agrees, then you know life is good.
3 . I have to wake up at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow for a College Bowl meet at Carleton. While I am in no way a morning person, getting up so extremely early should be fairly interesting. Plus, I can sleep during the drive down.
4. I should get going on my research paper for College Writing. I chose to write about "A Clockwork Orange" and how the use of Nadsat (the crazy Russian slang language) serves to make the entire novel more sinister rather than to muffle the violent acts taking place within it. We'll see how it goes.
5. I was in the library the other day and I almost cried because I happened to walk through the fiction section. Why the almost-tears? Because I couldn't check out one book; I already have too much reading to do for my classes.
6. The fetuses the conservative Republicans spray painted all over campus actually look more like turkey vultures than unborn babies. Coincidence?
7. It's Friday the thirteenth. I'm waiting for something creepy to happen. And no, the mysterious lunch menu at Food Service doesn't count.
8. I should really get to class.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Things going on
Here's what's happening in my life right now (in a convenient list-like form):
1. Chemistry test on Monday. I got an A+ on the last one (I studied really, really hard), so I hope to do as well this time. We'll see. This chapter is very long and complicated.
2. I just watched about a half hour of Fiddler on the Roof. I need to see the rest of that movie sometime. It's the perfect combination of beards, vodka, and arranged marriage.
3. I hate Mrs. Lideen right now. Absolutely loathe. In corrective advisement last week, she intentionally humiliated a student for no apparent reason. I just cannot believe that a teacher would ever do that to a student.
4. I still haven't decided on a college.
5. I'm reading twilight fanfic (sorry, Amelia).
6. I had an amazing time at the pep fest. People always complain about them, but I think they're so much fun. It's great to see all the grades in one room, and to be in the middle of all the cheering. Plus, the drumline played all the way down the hall. My ears are still ringing, but it was great.
7. Becca only laughed at my 'lumberjack shirt' once today. New record.
8. Speech tomorrow. I'm in the process of rewriting, so a bit nervous for this one.
1. Chemistry test on Monday. I got an A+ on the last one (I studied really, really hard), so I hope to do as well this time. We'll see. This chapter is very long and complicated.
2. I just watched about a half hour of Fiddler on the Roof. I need to see the rest of that movie sometime. It's the perfect combination of beards, vodka, and arranged marriage.
3. I hate Mrs. Lideen right now. Absolutely loathe. In corrective advisement last week, she intentionally humiliated a student for no apparent reason. I just cannot believe that a teacher would ever do that to a student.
4. I still haven't decided on a college.
5. I'm reading twilight fanfic (sorry, Amelia).
6. I had an amazing time at the pep fest. People always complain about them, but I think they're so much fun. It's great to see all the grades in one room, and to be in the middle of all the cheering. Plus, the drumline played all the way down the hall. My ears are still ringing, but it was great.
7. Becca only laughed at my 'lumberjack shirt' once today. New record.
8. Speech tomorrow. I'm in the process of rewriting, so a bit nervous for this one.
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