Note to Self:

Use the phrase "smacks of" more often. but not in a dirty way.

Okay, maybe in a dirty way.

S.P.I.E.S.

Today, a full day early, my Alpha Phi Omega Clue Week came to an end. It caught me completely off-guard because I was expecting another day of clue week. We were lined up to hear the results of our scavenger hunt when our bigs came up behind us as a surprise. I was pleasantly not-so-surprised to find Dan Dodge behind me. He'd been my A-Big for pledging and at the Matoaka social I said my memory was finding out how cool Dan Dodge really was. I really had no idea until my clue with him, when he told Alex and Amanda how cool their bigs were, and when I asked, he hesitated for a second, and then told me he is "pretty cool... Actually, he's the coolest guy I know." Thankfully, no one gave it away, not even Amanda, my twin who knew about our big the whole time.

And so, as of about 5:00 today, I am now a proud member of the Secretive People Ill-bred, Enough Said APO family, or S.P.I.E.S for short.

Sullen Contrariness with Little Provocation

A new era of Andrew-centered ridicule began today as Daniel came across a website detailing the symptoms ofPassive-Aggressive Personality Disorder. Originally intended for our friend Christina, Daniel quickly applied everything mentioned on the site to me, citing specific examples this year. While I can't exactly deny a lot of these connections, it's still irritating to be labeled with a personality disorder I don't actually think I have. What's much worse, though, is that I know that this will lead to more and more instances of making fun of me, and when those instances elicit an emotional reaction out of me, they'll immediately be attributed to being passive-aggressive and then quickly dismissed. This will not be a happy transition phase.

On a related note, is it passive-aggressive to bitch about this in a blog that I know Daniel will eventually read? You're damn right it is.

Hair-piphany

I think I know why people are only know starting to notice my two-week-old haircut; it looked shitty and only now looks good enough for people to "notice" and then compliment it without lying.

Send Me On My Way

I’d had it all planned out – I was going to be so smooth, surprising Mama Betsy. Every Thursday, Mama Betsy waits for all of us to get out of class and meet her at the UC for a 10:15 breakfast. Every Thursday, though, we always take forever to get there, and she is usually done before we get there. Today, on the other hand, was going to be different. I was going to be at the UC right at ten, so she and I could have breakfast together. There was really no reason for me to wait until 10:15 every week, and it would be a nice surprise for her. I got my ID, plugged in my iPod and listened to Rusted Root’s “Send me on my way” as I went.. on my way.
Halfway down the road, I half-noticed a man on a bike trudging up the road with his toddler son strapped in a backseat. He seemed to be doing an all right job.. that is, until the bike toppled sideways, causing the man to slam into the asphalt with a loud thud. It was a rather peculiar fall, as the man didn’t try to break his fall at all. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice the bike was off balance until he was up-close-and-personal with the ground. I was about thirty feet away, and by the time I got there, he was standing up and tending to his son, who was crying very loudly. They both looked just fine, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if he was okay, so I did. He didn’t look at me and instead cared for his son. I got the feeling that I was embarrassing him. It was understandable; he had fallen very goofily. I almost left him there, but I decided I could at least wait for an answer, even a shamed one. I asked him again, and he just looked at me and hesitated, breathing heavily. I asked if I should go get help – I thought I was prompting him to say no and send me on my way; the baby was fine now and he looked like he was all right. However, he started breathing more heavily and replied, “Actually, yeah, could you get someone?” I immediately went to the UC and they called emergency services to help the guy. I went back to talk to him before they arrived. His name was Scott, and he just had a bit of trouble breathing after the fall. He was thoroughly embarrassed once a police car, a fire engine, and an ambulance showed up. It looked like my role was over, so I said bye, and he thanked me “for stopping.” I went on my way, at this point way too late to surprise Mama Betsy, and the lady at the UC counter thanked me as I walked by, “for stopping.” It made me happy and sad at the same time. I felt happy because I felt like a good person. I had done an honest to goodness good deed. It made me sad, though, because it meant that asking someone if s/he is all right after a nasty spill on the asphalt passes for a good deed.
When I finally walked into the dining area, Mama Betsy was nowhere to be found. She showed up late, after I had eaten breakfast alone. It makes me feel like it was fate – like helping that man was the real reason I was “Sen[t] … on my way.”

Yes, Miss Lanigan

Tonight, I had a wonderful exercise in regression. Tiffany is getting her degree in education and has to present a biology lesson to fourth graders. She was really nervous about it, so she got us all together tonight to present her lesson to us. In order to really give off the school atmosphere, we were told to act like fourth graders, which we did in spades. We talked out of turn, we didn’t listen, we did stupid stuff – everything fourth graders would do, and more.

• Me: Miss Lanigan, I want to write on the board next
• Sarah: Miss Lanigan, don’t let Mike write on the board. He’s too stupid to write.
• Me: No, you’re the stupid one.
• Sarah: No YOU are.
• Carling: You two be nice and get along. Right Miss Lanigan?
• Miss Lanigan: Yes, Carling. They should get along.
• Sarah: Teacher’s pet!
• Carling: Am not!
• Me: Are too!
• Katie: Miss Lanigan, Mike won’t stop kicking my chair
• Mike: I’m not doing anything!
• Katie: Yes, he is! He’s kicking my chair.
• Me: Miss Lanigan, they’re in love.
• Rich: Yeah! Katie and Mi-ike, sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!
• Miss Lanigan, I lost my lima bean.

We doodled on our papers, and we made faces at each other, and worst of it was when Tiffany passed around a spray bottle to water our lima beans. We went a little overboard on that one, especially with Carling.
Ahh, good times, bad memories. It was nice to do that, for several reasons. First, it was nice just to remember what it was like back then. I started drawing on my paper and I immediately flashed back to doodling in elementary school. I remembered the angular s and the weird chessboard thingy, which I’ve recreated here for you.


Second, it was refreshing to take on a role I didn’t play as a child. I used to be the teacher’s pet/ cry baby (Who would have imagined?), but this time, I was the troublemaker. Tiffany made me sit up front with her, I was such a nuisance. It was a lot of fun. I wish I had gotten into trouble more often in fourth grade.

MANthili

I've made tens of promises about actually working on this blog. This week, I told myself I would write one entry a day until Friday, and I would start to get back into the habit. Well, it's Friday and the first night I've written here in a long time. I don't think I'm going to write anything of substance, so I'm going to instead unveil a picture that is very near and dear to my heart. After that, we'll see how it goes.

If ever there were a place to unveil MANthili, this surely is it.

I Just Lost The Game

I've very often wanted to write down my little thoughts of the day in my blog. I've come up with a lot, such as how I hate when people use two cups at the dining halls because they know they are too lazy to just get a refill the second time around. I've never gotten around to it, but I've thought about it so much that I I've even contemplated what I'd name such entries. My first ideas was "Random Thoughts" but I felt this was too vague and clichéed. I went on to "Deliberate Thoughts of a Random Mind," but I just could not get past my own hatred for the word "random." I ended up wanting to write another entry on how much I hate the word random. This, of course, led me to yet another of these so-called thoughts, and I decided I'd just have to stop.
And then start.

I hate it when people go to the dining halls and get two cups and then proceed to put the same drink in both. It irritates me to no end. Are you the one cleaning these cups? No? Then get only one, and get your ass up to refill it, dammit. The other day I saw a guy with four, count 'em FOUR cups. To that guy, I say: No one likes you.

My favorite part of having an ipod is not the immense library of music, nor is it the fact that I have it at hand all the time. No, it's the fact that I can have it without anyone else knowing. If you see me on campus with the headphones plugged in and a big, secretive grin on my face, just know it's because I'm playing Ace of Base's "The Sign."

I've recently made some mental notes about how my life is going to be when I'm older. It's not a five-year plan or anything like that. I don't know where it's headed, but I have some rules for my life, should they get to that point.

1. When/If/When I have kids, I will not stop until I have at least one boy and one girl. I thought about making sure everyone would have at least one brother and one sister, but that's a minimum of four kids. No effing way. One of each gender is fine. That way, they'll learn how to deal with girls/boys.
2. When I have my first kid, I will also get a dog and a cat. They'll all grow up together.
3. I will teach my kids at least Spanish. Hopefully one other language.

As you can see, I'm not deciding anything close to what I should be thinking about, like grad school, majors, classes for next semester. I think I have my priorities down.

That's all I can think of at the moment, except for the fact that all this thinking and remembering just made me lose The Game.

Life, Sharper

I feel really weird right now. I have a very heightened sense of urgency right now and I don’t really know why I have it. I know there is nothing going on but my mind is racing and I can’t figure it out. It has happened before. Things just seem louder or more severe. It’s not a serious thing, but I don’t know how to handle it. It mostly happens at night. I remember a dream I had in seventh grade when I took medicine painkillers for my broken arm, and my dad had to fight a monster made of neon colored balls in a boxing ring. That’s the feeling I have right now, I think.

There is another memory I have that I can’t put my finger on. I remember, I think it is a movie, where one person is terribly frantic, and the others are very sleepy or drugged or something, and the frantic one is prodding for answers and the sleepy ones give it very slowly, almost nonchalantly, as they don’t know the severity of the situation. I can’t for the life of me remember it, but now as I write this, the feeling is fading, and it’s time for bed.

I used the word mélange

College life doesn’t really seem like a whole new world. Rather, it seems like a large mélange of worlds I already know – namely, the OC, Everwood, and Days of Our Lives. I guess it’s true that life imitates art, but it’s more accurate to say that life imitates shitty dramas.
Within days of starting orientation, several of my hallmates had been sexiled. My roommate (as well as most of the hall) went out drinking and partying. In retrospect, I really should not have been surprised. Most high school kids do it anyway; why would college kids have any hesitations? It still came as a shock.
Coupled with all that, I’ve been hearing the word “adult” bandied about rather frivolously lately. “We’ll settle this as adults.” “Come on, now, we’re all adults here.” I looked around after I heard the second one and thought, No, we’re not. Look at us. Do you really think we are adults? I really have a hard time accepting the fact.. no, the possible idea of being an adult. What makes me an adult? What has changed about me that I am no longer the child I’ve been all my life? Is it the alcohol and sex? If that’s the case, then I’m not an adult. And, if that is the case, do I even want to be an adult now? The capricious drunkenness and hook ups seem less than desirable to me; fun doesn’t need to be something I can’t remember the next morning, and sex shouldn’t be with someone I don’t love, much less barely even know. All in all, it doesn’t sound very mature. I have a sense that I sort of skipped that phase of my life, and I can see that they’re not good decisions. In that way, I think I am more adult, but it doesn’t seem to be right. I still consider myself very much a child.

Basically, I feel less mature than, say… a three-year-old, but more mature than, oh.. a high school student. That sounds about right.

I'm On To You, Maytag. You Too, Coca-Cola

I inadvertently came upon the biggest scam ever in the history of corporate America. I came into the laundry room on the first floor to get a few particularly soiled items cleaned (The mixture of clothes, Sprite, and mud made me second guess my laundering abilities and made me call my mom to double check and make sure it wouldn’t become a caffeine-free, soggy mess). After loading the washer, I turned around to discover a soda machine. I was fully aware that this was product-placement. Nowhere else on campus will one find students with that much change as in the laundry room. Rather than fight The Man, I applauded him for his business skills and bought a Cherry Coke. The bottle popped out, and as I turned around and twisted the cap out, the soda burst forth from its container and on to the counter and INTO THE WASHING MACHINE. I flipped when I realized the vicious cycle – Laundry begat soda, and soda begat laundry. Thankfully, not enough soda crept in to make me start over the wash.. this time. Next time, the full twenty ounces could make its way into my washer, or worse, the clothes I’m wearing. Having learned my lesson, I finished my coke in my room. I’m still doing laundry at the moment and I just bought another Cherry Coke. I’m such a fucking pawn.

Convoked

It’s hard to say exactly when the next chapter of my life began. I could have chosen move-in day. A new city, a new school, and a whole slew of new friends I have to get used to provided the perfect scenario for a new chapter. But where did my last chapter end? It might have been the day I left Roanoke for Williamsburg, but I wasn’t in Roanoke much to begin with that summer. It would be more appropriate to mark the end of a chapter with graduation, as I left friends and high school life forever. That day, however, didn’t mark any real beginnings. As much as it exasperates me to hear this from others, I’m going through many transitions right now. The other day, Lenore asked me what life was like without the mother or brother around. I couldn’t answer. I didn’t have an opinion. I think it has gotten to the point where transition is normal, and stagnation is what would startle me. I may have gone through several chapters between graduation and move-in day.

So, indeed, why did I choose convocation as the chapter with which to begin this particular blog? The obvious answer, of course, is that convocation presents a concrete ceremony that solidifies my status as a College Student©. The act of walking through the Wren portico was so symbolic that….

Okay. I simply put off doing the blog until now. That’s the only reason I’ve got. There – I’ve admitted it. To tell the truth, it’s a wonder I’ve begun anything at all. Now that I have, though, I intend to keep it going. I might write about a shitty/wonderful day, why I think my teacher/TA/roommate is a dickhead/hero(ine), or my position on cloning (not sure)/ politics (not Bush)/the use of parentheses and slashes to indicate options and additional information (I’m for it).

I didn’t say it’d be interesting…. Ugh. That’s such a cliché. Fine. It’ll be interesting. I hope you’re entertained, because I certainly will be.