The Cousin of Mystery Meat [11.12.08]

Every night at dinner, the dining hall provides me with countless options, half of which I will never identify. Tonight's meal was no exception, for it consisted of what I like to call a "faker". The menu said burrito, so I took a bite, assuming that the normal inhabitants of a burrito would be in my mouth. Unfortunately, I was very wrong. Instead of chewing on refried beans and vegetables, I was not sure what I was chewing. Eventually, my tongue figured out that the dining hall was serving mashed potato-corn-onion burritos instead of "burritos". I was not disappointed, but I was perplexed. In all honesty, who would have seen that one coming?

Musically Inclined [11.11.08]

Being an elementary education major, I would consider myself at least fractionally ignorant of all other majors. I would never trust myself to dissect a baby shark or explain the government of nineteenth-century Fiji. Given those obvious circumstances, it was a complete surprise when my friend, majoring in music education, asked me to help with her project. Her assignment was to compose an original song incorporating five different meters, four key changes, and several recognizable pieces of music. The finished product also had to be more than two minutes long. Thankfully, my friend was not requesting my help in composing. Unfortunately, she was a few beats shy of the two-minute minimum, and requested my so-called expertise. I listened to her arrangement, and then listened again. She sat on her bed in silence, seemingly willing to take any advice. It was reminiscent of a patient seeking advice for an unknown illness. I thought for a moment, then responded. "Just add a fermata." (For anyone that does not know music, a fermata is simply a symbol that indicates a hold somewhere in the music.) My friend giggled in delight, and left my office a satisfied customer.

Cyber-Prank [11.9.08]

I am always fascinated by the role that technology plays in the lives of children today. For as long as I can remember, I had access to a computer or a cell phone. I was always connected through e-mail or online networks such as Facebook. However, all of that technological convenience comes with a price, especially when one forgets to LOG OUT. Take, for example, the classic prank of changing someone's Facebook status. My friends and I were studying when we realized that one of our friends forgot to log herself out of Facebook. Immediately, we got to work. At 3:22 PM, her status said that she was in the bathroom. At 3:24 PM, her status said that she was in the bathroom, pooping. At 3:25 PM, her status said that she was in the bathroom, pooping...and it burns. Our friend returned to find countless comments from friends; some asked her if she had seen her doctor lately, while others simply wanted to know her daily diet out of curiosity. To say the least, our friend was embarrassed. At 3:42 PM, her status said that she was tired of her friends and their silly pranks. That makes one of us.

Ghetto Gas [11.8.08]

My friends and I decided that we needed a break from our studies, so we decided to venture to The Hearth for a late-night breakfast. On our way home, my friends reminded me that we needed to stop at a gas station because they were out of milk. I obliged and stopped at the first gas station I saw. Thinking that our stop would not last very long, I kept the car running. However, I was always taught that anything could happen, so I locked the doors and headed for the entrance. I jerked the handle to find that it was locked; only after I had yanked on the door did I notice sign that said Doors will be locked between the hours of 12 AM and 4 AM. Please use the box on the side door to buy items. Thank you. I looked back at my friends, who were obviously more perplexed than I was. I told them to wait with my pointer finger, and began my search for the box. Several minutes passed and I could tell that I was getting absolutely nowhere. Out of the blue, the gas station employee knocked on the window and pointed me to the direction of the box - which was NOT located on the side wall, may I add. Anyway, the box worked similarly to that of the older bank boxes. I had to request the item I was interested in purchasing through a microphone. Then, the box shot out like an unexpected jack-in-the-box. Instead of inserting my money into a plastic tube, I had to place it into an old cigar box. The box was sucked back into wall, and all I heard was "We have skim or two percent". I awkwardly requested the skim milk. The box popped out moments later, containing my half-gallon of skim milk and my change. I could not help but stand there and laugh; the entire occurrence was completely outlandish. So there I was, standing there with a half-gallon of skim milk in my hand, laughing harder than I can ever remember - all because of some ghetto hole in the wall.

The Peculiar Pick-Me-Up [11.7.08]

Putting it simply, today was quite a boring day. My friends and I decided to jazz it up by taking an impromptu road trip to the Hershey Outlets during common hour. Upon arrival, a game plan was constructed. Our first stop would be Gap, where my friend would buy the three pairs of pants she needed for student teaching. Our next stop would be the scrapbooking store around the corner, and our last stop would be The Disney Store. The plan was set, but that did not mean it was going to be followed. As my friend entered Gap, I slipped away from the flock and headed over to the scrapbooking store on my own. Minutes later, I giggled when my two other friends found me in the store and told me that they had also ditched her out of boredom. I did initially feel remorseful, but that disappeared after a while. When our friend finally met up with the rest of us, we walked over to The Disney Store for a quick look around. Just for kicks, I pointed to a pile of oversized stuffed animals and said "Hey guys, they're on sale!" I did not think that my antics would phase anyone, but to my surprise, my one friend proceeded to dig through the pile until he found his favorite Disney character, Rex, from Toy Story. On our way home, we were three pairs of pants and one t-rex richer.

The Moldy Cheese Ball [10.5.08]

Today was the big reveal of the new President, and my friends and I were doing what everyone else was doing - watching the results on television. After the results were in, my friends and I could not help but wonder about the fate of the "almost President". Everyone knows the role of the new President, but what about the guy that comes in second? For instance, take the simple idea of the pre-planned celebration. Since both parties plan for success, it is assumed that both also have a shindig prepared in the case of victory. Both sides have already ordered their "Congratulations" banners in respective shades of red and blue, but what happens if the "congrats" never gets unfurled? And what of the celebratory munchies? Does one just put the cheese ball back in the fridge?

A Spoonful of Naive [11.4.08]

Today's occurrence happened during my observation. Because of the Presidential election, the students were especially interested in learning about the voting process. The teacher decided to have an open discussion where the students could ask any question they wanted to about the voting process. Every student had something interesting to say, except for one. I figuratively kicked myself for be so naive. I knew that the students were on a roll, but how could I forget the fact that every classroom has "that kid"; the one who knows too much for his own good and in return seeks no approval from anyone. When it was time for the class to have a mock election, he simply commented on the fact that none of the students' votes truly matter because they do not affect the real election. In a matter of seconds, he single-handedly squashed the focus and motivation of the entire class. What a party pooper.

Leaving the Dungeon [11.3.08]

After the grease fire in the college center, the race of 'muters was officially stumped. Our lifestyle is simple, but pre-programmed. Every day, our lunch is spent seeing what specials are being offered at the good ol' Underground. We underestimated the role the UG spent in our daily lives, and once it was taken away, it was almost impossible to function. I entered the commuter lounge five minutes before the start of common hour, and no one knew what to do. People were not gathered in small heaps to venture down to the UG; instead they were scattered around the room, silently pleading for some purpose in life. I yearned to provide answer for them, so I quietly uttered what I considered a possible solution: "Anybody want to go to Arby's?" Simultaneously, everyone seemed revived. Some shrugged as if there was no other option, while others figured out driving arrangements. A half-hour later, we returned to the lounge with food in hand and ate together at the table like a real family.

The Lone Seeker [11.2.08]

Today's occurrence centered around a celebration, for my friends and I were throwing a surprise party for one of our friends. Everything was set; the decorations, the cake, the gifts, even her fake invite to the "study party" being held in the basement of her dorm. Perhaps the best part of surprise parties is the half-hour before the guest of honor arrives. Everyone surveys the room and picks the least obvious spot to hide behind. Most people are what I would consider "settlers", for they simply settle for the basic hiding spots; under tables, behind sofas - even the corners of the room. However, if one is not a "settler", they are a "seeker", one who is in search of the best possible hiding spot. Personally, I have always been a seeker, so I claimed the dark kitchen upon arrival. I entered the kitchen and closed the door, finding that it was one of those doors divided in half; creating a separate bottom and top door. With a giggle, I closed the bottom half of the door and started singing: "A horse is a horse, of course, of course. And no one can talk to a horse, of course, unless, of course, the talking horse is the famous Mr. Ed." Sadly no one chuckled; more importantly, no one even knew the reference I was making. So I simply and awkwardly shut the top half of the door until the guest of honor arrived.

Sick of It [11.1.08]

Today's occurrence happened in the library. My friends and I were studying in the library and everything was going well until I realized the music that was playing in the background. My head jerked back, forth, up, down, and side to side as I realized that we were studying to "Silent Night". "What? Who is listening to that?" My friend weakly raised her hand and admitted to having Christmas music on her computer. "What are you doing? It is the beginning of November! Whatever happened to Thanksgiving?!" I continued, saying how she was disturbing the natural order of the world by celebrating Christmas before Thanksgiving. Then I got to thinking...what if she was just reacting the way that we are supposed to? In all honesty, the radio stations are playing Christmas music even before Thanksgiving is over. Are we simply pre-programmed to think in Christmas even before Thanksgiving?

We Didn't Start the Fire [10.30.08]

If tonight was a movie, it could definitely qualify as one of the best comedy-thriller-drama films of all time, for tonight was the night of the soon-to-be infamous Mund fire. My friends and I were in Faust Lounge having a Halloween party, while everyone and their mom was in Leedy Theater watching Dracula. Around ten o'clock, one of student workers crashed our party by asking us to help her find the fire alarm. The next few moments were full of a spectrum of reactions. Shouldn't the college center have easily accessible (not to mention viewable) fire alarms? Is this for real? Perhaps my favorite was one of my friends pointing out Leedy Theater: "Are you planning on telling them? I don't know if you've seen, but there is a lot of people in there." In the meantime, all of us were grabbing scattered belongings and heading for the emergency exits. Minutes later, we joined the other hundred freezing people on the social quad. It was all very dramatic, given the fact that it was a simple grease fire.

Best Day Ever [10.29.08]

Since I am an elementary education major, I am required to observe a local classroom a couple hours a week. This semester was one of my favorite, simply because of the amount of quirky students. I forced myself to refrain from picking favorites, but there is this one student that puts all others to shame. One day, he ran up to me on my way out. "Miss Kreider! I just wanted to tell you that I had the best time ever today! Wanna know why? Because YOU were here! So...I made a song." I urged him to sing it, so he did. "This was the best day ever. The best day ever. The best day...ever!" The lyrics alone may not be entertaining, but his singing was. He performed the song in an out of tune whisper, while switching his body weight from one foot to another. As I held back my laughter, I urged him to continue: "That sounds great! What is the next part?" He replied matter-of-factly, "Miss Kreider...that's the song." I blinked a couple times and nodded: "Right, of course. Umm...you can return to your seat now." I walked away, hoping that he did not realize how awkward our moment was.

S*x [10.28.08]

Everyone has those days when they would consider themselves to be in a rare form. For me, that day was today. After realizing that I would have to eventually take an elementary health course in college, I decided to face my demons and cease my awkwardness of the subject. I marched into the commuter lounge and proceeded to lead an open discussion on sex. I asked all the questions, and everyone else gave all the answers. Eventually, we hit a minor fork in the road. Some of those present referred to sex as "business time" while others preferred to call it "quality time". Both terms had counter-examples, but that did not change the fact that a decision needed to be made by the majority. I offered the term "whoopie" from my experience with The Newlywed Game, but it was soon thrown out, considering that no one else was familiar with the show. Eventually, the hung jury became unanimous and "business time" was born.

Brunette McDonald [10.27.08]

My one friend is known for his hair. When I say that, I mean that his hair is unique; it is blond and curly and has a mind of its own. Whenever people are searching for words to describe him, it is always "oh, the guy with the crazy, blond hair? Now I know who you're talking about!" Today he walked into the commuter lounge hoping no one would notice what was different about him - IMPOSSIBLE! "Oh my word...it's gone." I actually remember groaning in misery after I saw his hair cut. I know that may seem dramatic, but this is not just anybody I am talking about. He lost part of who he was when he cut his hair. How could people describe him now? It is not like they could say "well, he's got crazy, blond hair" because it was not crazy, blond hair. It just was not him. He could not understand the severity of the situation, so I tried to connect it to something that would make sense. "What if Ronald McDonald dyed his hair brown?" "I don't know if he would be the same to me." I waited a could second for the example to click; I saw the gears turning and the light bulb go off. He nodded in agreement, and assured me his hair would grow back.

Fiscal Fiasco [10.26.08]

This weekend was epic, for it was the weekend that Michael's craft store was having a blow-out sale. It took no time for my mom to plan a road trip by rounding up a bunch of her girlfriends. Since I'm no party pooper, I decide to jump on the bandwagon. When we arrived, the motion-sensor doors of Michael's was the first thing to greet us. We instantly broke in an amoeba-like fashion, some of us to the scrapbooking section, and others to the seasonal aisles. After an hour or two of shopping, we collectively head toward the registers with our purchases. My mom's friend was first, and the only thing holding her back was an elderly woman with one item. It sounds easy enough, but then the item does not scan, so the employee has to type in it's UPC code. The item comes up regular price, despite the four-inch, "highlighter yellow" sale sticker hanging off the tag. In my head I can picture the old woman ranting and raving about how her artificial pine wreath should be on sale, but then the strangest thing happened. What I was picturing in my head actually happened. The old bat took shook one wrinkly little finger at the computer as her other hand waived the sale sticker for all to see. The whole occurrence was ridiculous, and surprisingly yielded results. The employee was scolded in front of everyone, while the elderly woman paid even less for her wreath than what she would have paid to begin with. I left perplexed; perhaps I underestimated the true power of the elderly.

The Beefy Bridesmaid [10.25.08]

Today was a special occasion, for it was the wedding day for two of my friends, who happen to be LVC alumni. I was singing in the wedding, so I had to arrive early to practice. After rehearsing the song a couple times, I spent the rest of my time admiring the building. As I was walking around, I bumped into some of my other friends that were part of the wedding. We started talking, which soon turned into a conversation centered around the hunger of my friends. "I am so hungry! I didn't eat anything all day! I had to get my hair done, and then I had to go to the nail salon...blah blah blah". Soon enough, her parents turned the corner. No sooner than they had arrived, she put her order in. "I NEED a cheeseburger. I don't care where you get it or what is on it. I just NEED food in me." Twenty minutes later, her mom returned with a Burger King Whopper, and everything was well in the world. I never thought that a piece of meat could make a bridesmaid so happy.

Watch Your Back [10.24.08]

Today's observation occurred outside the campus walls. My one class required me to observe at a local day care, and I was excited to do so. When I arrived, I checked in at the front desk and found my way to the downstairs classroom. When I entered the room, I had a regular set of expectations; the children would be selfish and fight over toys, they would be egocentric and walk away from crying classmates. Apparently, my expectations were very wrong. In the first ten minutes of my arrival, I noticed an epic struggle take place. One of the boys was trying to put a puzzle together, and when his classmate noticed this, she was led to help. To any adult, this interaction would be quite self-explanatory. The second would offer to help the first, the first would oblige, and the puzzle would get done twice as fast. However, in the world of daycare, these social rules did not exist. The girl yanked the puzzle piece out of the boy's hand...
so he bit her in the back.
I was not too alarmed - until I saw blood. Since I had never seen someone draw blood from someone else's back before, I was taken aback. I did not know how to react, at which time I realized I did not have to do anything. In fact, I could not, for I was strictly instructed to simply observe. I could actually hear my professor's voice in my head saying "Now, try your best to be a fly on the wall. The children will behave normally if they do not know you are there." So there I sat while one teacher kept the little girl's back from bleeding, while another rushed to get the proper paperwork to report the incident. I could not help thinking that I was on the set of ER. "I've got a bleeder!" "Two tissues - STAT!" Whatever happened, I departed with a new thankfulness for those who serve our country like no other: the daycare workers.

Ahhh...Memories [10.23.08]

It always surprises me how much I remind myself of my mother. I was sitting in my friend's dorm room, watching a "where are they now" show about one-hit wonders from the nineties. Of course, every commercial break would spark a conversation about the past. I felt just like my mom when she bumps into an old classmate at the grocery store. In no time at all, we were cackling about stirrup pants, scrunchies, and the fact that our middle school teachers wore an immense amount of makeup. Like it always does, an embarrassing story finally found its way into our conversation. My friend recounted the tale of her fated field trip. At one point before hitting the road, all of the children were instructed to use the bathroom before loading up the school bus. Unfortunately, this certain field trip offered an outhouse, but that was not even the best part. Once in the outhouse, my friend completely the task at hand, and then noticed that her overalls were not hanging outside the bowl, but were instead dangling inside it. "What did you do?", I asked her. She hesitated, and then replied with, "The only thing I could do!" Apparently, she just snapped her wet overalls back together, put on her coat, and loaded up the school bus with the rest of her classmates. Immediately after the conclusion of the story, she did what most people do. She realized the unfortunate truth of the permanence of words. Once her story was said, the words were invisibly floating around the room, similar to the bits of Mike Tv's chocolate bar in Willy Wonka. For her to grab them and shove them back into her mouth was completely out of the question.

Practically Paris [10.22.08]

Today was a stressful day, and I could not wait until Down to Earth (DTE). It would finally be my chance to unwind my mind and revitalize my spirit. I walk over to the chapel and enter the lobby, where I met up with my friends. Tonight we were early, so we looked around for an opportunity to waste some time. A second or two later, my friend spotted a large fan in the corner of the room. After he pointed it out, we all looked at each other and nodded. He turned it on high as we each took turns walking in front of it for our own impromptu fashion show. As far as we were concerned, we were the only ones that could see what we were doing, so there was nothing to be embarrassed about. If that were true, this entry would be quite humorless. Moments later, there was a tap on the door. Looking up, we could see that there were plenty of people present at DTE, just not in the lobby. So I sheepishly crab-walk over to the fan and turn it off. Thus, the fashion show came to an abrupt halt. In the next few moments I got to thinking: what did it matter? Everyone has participated in at least one stupid act during their lives, so it was simply dumb luck that others saw ours. Then I started to feel grateful for being caught in the act: better for someone to draw conclusions from seeing the real me than to take a stab in the dark. In acting, for example, it is the actor's job to make things clear for the audience. Sure, purposeful assumptions are acceptable, but playing it safe is never good when trying to portray a character. In order for someone to play the role of the "intoxicated party guy", one must take the necessary steps to show the audience that person. One cannot half-stumble or just "sort of" spill a drink. In both the real world and the acting realm, actions and intentions need to be made perfectly clear.

The Subtle Escape [10.21.08]

Today was a gift straight from Heaven, for today was the day of the food test drive. In preparation for the coming school year, several catering companies had wheeled in thousands of bite-size samples for the students' tasting delight. Perhaps the best part of the entire event is the fact that it is completely free. Regardless, my 'muters and I wasted no time pouncing on the opportunity of receiving free food. We marched right up those Mund stairs and headed into the West Dining Hall with our heads held high. Upon arrival, we realized that we beat the crowd, and we could not help slapping ourselves on the back. After a quick survey of the entire hall, we picked a strategy and stuck with it: start slow and taper off. The new twenty minutes were spent working our way around the entire border of the cafeteria, grabbing this, pointing at that, and hoarding whatever we could. One must understand that when it comes to 'muters, free food is always a very serious opportunity. We are never sure when we will receive our next meal, so each new one is treated like the last supper. Since we're 'muters, we don't carry much cash on us, and we only pack enough food to get by. But a food fair is the ultimate opportunity to store up food for the future. This may seem like a squirrel-esque tactic, but it always works for us. The more food we get for free, the less we have to buy. It's such a simple equation that I wonder why no one else has caught on. With that said, our table quickly filled with a pile of pre-packaged food; sliced apples, several bottles of Vitamin Water, and even a salad kit. By now, we were surrounded by residents, who have started to notice our distinct behavior. We collectively decided to hit the road - as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, we also wanted to subtly depart with our stash...which turned out to be impossible. Still sitting, we proceeded to stuff the tiny products into our pockets, while the bigger things needed to be stacked and carried. In the next moment or two, the 'muter unit slowly stood up and escaped the dining hall as an organized, but completely recognizable train.

Crybaby [10.20.08]

Today's observation occurred in my friend's house on campus. I was sitting in his living room, working on my homework while he was playing video games with a friend of ours. Thankfully, I had my headphones (or ear buds) in, so I could not hear the play-by-play. The scores, passwords, or secret passages were entirely kept from me due to the concert going on in my head. I will be the first to admit that I keep my tunes rocking at a low roar for a purpose. Others have always said it was bad for my hearing, and even bad for theirs, considering they could hear it. Of course I disagree; my blaring music provides an escape from the world around me. Ironically enough, it has proven itself over and over to be the source of my focus. That is why I was so surprised to find out that someone could actually scream loud enough for me to hear it. There I sat on my my friend's maroon chair, when out of nowhere I heard someone howl: "OBSTRUCTION!" My head cocked itself toward the source - my friend and his buddy playing video games. I popped out my right ear bud just in time to hear the most entertaining argument. "We are totally playing that round again", player one said. "Oh, please. You are such a baby," player two fired back. "No," argued the player one, "that was completely unfair. You were in my way, and besides - I'm just getting warmed up." Both of them stopped in mid-argument as they slowly raised their heads in the realization that I was listening. I could not do anything but giggle, and shake my head. I wanted so badly to say that both of them were equally as ridiculous, but it seemed that both of them had suffered enough.

Epic Battle [10.19.08]

It is Homecoming weekend; a time of pep rallies, passing on the crowns, and football games. Speaking of, the football game was going quite well in every sense of the word. The Dutchmen were up, the sun was shining, and the band was about to perform its halftime show. Since most of my friends are in the "Pride of the Valley Marching Band", I was more than happy to watch them in action. However, it was sort of difficult to see much less enjoy the show when three-fourths of the crowd decides to visit the concession stands. So there I was, trying my darnedest to put on a happy face. Now that I think about it, it couldn't have mattered - for no one could see my face with the continuous train of people moving in front of me. I cocked my head left for a moment, then tilted it to the right for a better view. Every so often, I would be blessed with a vertically challenged passerby, with which I instantly stretched my neck as far as it would go, hoping to see over them. After a few moments of this, I noticed a specific sore thumb in my peripheral vision. It was the opposing team's coach marching down the stadiums steps. Once on the main level, he turned a quick left and bumped into the elderly man sitting in front of me. Like any polite person, he asked to be excused. The old man looked at his team jacket and fired back: "You're not excused". This was accompanied with the 72-year-old finger waiving weakly in disapproval. The coach walked away stunned, and I could not help but laugh. What was the old man thinking? Did he seriously feel that his feeble finger held some sort of startling fear? Compared to all the other threats out there, I do not consider a pointing elderly man to be one of them.

Stupid Boys [10.18.08]

It is Homecoming weekend, and tonight was the pep rally. So, being the 'muter rep of the Student Government class of 2010, I conveniently found myself helping out with the rally. There we were, the student representatives of the junior class standing on the track, while the team captains made their remarks. Everything was going great - right up until I saw some guy stand up and spewed it out rapid-fire, right onto the track. Of course, it plopped lightly on the rubber, and he giggled in delight alongside his buddies. To them, it was entertaining because it was something stupid they got away with. They figured that since no one saw, it was twice as funny. However, the truth is that whatever you do, someone ALWAYS sees you do it, which was proven today. From my perspective, the entire shenanigan was completely humorless for several reasons. Perhaps the most important was the principal of the thing. Being Homecoming, the entire weekend was a huge ball of stress for a numerous amount of people, and none of our planning was to spark a spitball-esque gum fiasco. I also feel that if someone ever did something to simply do it, then the entire event had already lost its purpose. I truly wanted to pick the ABC gum up and spout some furious maternal line like "Don't think I didn't see that", but what would be the point? Besides, little did they know, the cheerleaders had already made it part of their routine.

Dutch[Man] [10.17.08]

Every day I walk across campus I am thankful, for I hold within me one of the deepest and juiciest secrets of the valley: the identity of the Dutchman. Of course, I'm not about to go posting that on the global web, but I will enlighten the reader on one of the biggest sacrifices of the Dutchman: the Walk of Death. It may sound complicated, but in all actuality, it is quite simple. Geographically, the Walk of Death is the distance it takes to walk from Arnold to the soccer field one way. Sure, it does not sound like much, but I was promised by the Dutchman himself that it is indeed a pilgrimage, given the immense amount of weight that the disguise imposes on its inhabitant. Not to mention the fact that once one walks from the Arnold to the soccer field, one must also walk back. One particular day, the Dutchman had to make an appearance at a soccer game, so he found a discrete location in Arnold, became the Dutchman, and began his trek to the soccer field. When he got there, his normal duties ensued: he clapped, danced, and silently cheered until his break, which sent him right back to Arnold. But soon enough, he was back at the soccer field to cheer on the team. When he arrived, children from the community were playing on the field during halftime. Finally, the Dutchman thought, I can take a breather. However, someone on the event staff had another idea: "What do you think you're doing Dutchman? Go on, get out there and play with those kids!" So he huffed, and he puffed, and he kicked that soccer ball around despite his 40-pound head.

What the H*nd?! [10.16.08]

Being the middle of October, strange things have been happening more often. Some were planned and others just seemed to happen; either way, it was obvious that Halloween was rapidly approaching. Today was no exception. I entered the lounge during common hour, happily greeted by my fellow 'muters. Moments after I started talking to them, my peripheral vision forced me to notice something in the ceiling. The lounge has a tiled ceiling construction and by the looks of it, there was clearly something wrong. Since I was sitting on the couch, I did not take much notice to it, so I just kept talking. "Okay guys, can I just tell you how boring class was today? I know the professor is old, but really, does he have to breathe like that? And what about the way he THERE'S A HAND IN THE CEILING!" My story instantly halted as I realized with utter horror that I was indeed correct. Of course, that was followed by me shrieking at everyone, asking what a hand was doing in the ceiling...and more importantly, who had put it there. No one talked. All of them shrugged. Alas, my soccer-mom aura locked me out of being in on something.

Awkward Turtle [10.15.08]

Today, I went to a club meeting to help organize our Fall Fling for Halloween. During discussion, we brought up the obvious role of costumes, and the possibility of having prizes for those who decide to dress up. After our meeting, we transitioned from planning the party to planning our costumes. One of the boys shared his vision of being Frankenstein, and we all nodded in agreement. Then he pointed out that I should dress up as the Bride of Frankenstein. All discussion was immediately silenced as he awkwardly backtracked. "No...uh - wait...I didn't mean it like that - um..." "No...um - okay...I know. I just...um - er..." Frankly, it was an uncomfortable moment. I wouldn't have been surprised if a turtle would have emerged from my chair and shuffled across the room.

Hot Mess [10.14.08]

Today was a sad day, for fall break was swiftly coming to a close. We packed up our things, cleaned out the beach house, and waved goodbye to Bethany Beach. Our drive home was one of reflection and relaxation. The radio was faint compared to our electrified drive just days before. The windows were down, inviting the refreshing breeze to wash across my face. It was a moment absent of inhibition. I sloppily pulled my hair into a loose bun and rested my arm on the open window. Sticking my hand out the window, my fingers naturally rode the wind. An hour or so later, we stopped at a local Applebee's for supper. We parked and rolled up the windows. After I shut my door, I glanced in the car window and saw the truth. The past hour was fully uninhibited, and thus my hair was completely unkempt. The last thing I wanted to do was enter a public place looking as disheveled as I did. I tried to do something - anything - but my friend insisted it looked fine. "You're a hot mess", she said. "At least that's what they say in band. They call it messy-sexy." I shrugged and decided to leave it be. What do I care?