The past weekend featured one of the biggest events of the year--the welcoming of a new Vassar class! And of course, just like every year, I got all nostalgic, teared up a little, and caused my friends to say, "Seriously, what's wrong with you? It's just a new batch of freshmen," which reminds me all over again that I'm graduating. Ugh.
But this being my last year of freshmen move in, I decided to make it a good one and take advantage of my favorite thing about special events on campus--the mountains upon mountains of free food (are we seeing a pattern here?). By videographing the experience for College Relations, I was able to take advantage of even the special access free food with the help of my official College Relations name tag, which further assured my lack of need for dinner that evening. To quote the student photographer I was working with that day, "It's one of the perks of the job."
I showered my campus patrol friends with free chocolate bars and thanked them for keeping the campus safe on move in day, then continued reliving my own freshman move in experience by relaxing in the shade with my video camera as my fellow students sweated beneath the weight of all of their worldly possessions. Ahh, the memories.
I remember moving in myself, although most of it is a blur. Current Vassar students help the freshman move in and find their rooms, as I volunteered to do my sophomore year. From what I remember, my family had barely opened the trunk of our antique, retro yellow station wagon after we pulled into the Cushing parking lot when suddenly all of my prized possessions had vanished. At the time I was kind of freaked out because it had happened so fast, but when I had to move in everything myself the next year, I realized exactly how hard it is to move in yourself, especially when you have no idea where you are. It's nice to have a few extra hands to help out, but unfortunately freshman year was the only time I had the priviledge.
During the tail end of my senior year of high school (at the point when my senioritis could have rivaled the plague), I met another prospective student over the Internet via the Vassar message boards (Facebook didn't exist at the time--which I know is hard to imagine). He thought I was french through my message board name, La Belle Dame Sans Merci (I'm not), but it didn't matter--we kind of hit it off through our mutual sense of humor and love of shredding metal, and I most likely spent all of my free time and most of what should have been my study time talking to him online about how awesome Vassar would be. As my point of departure from home neared, I wasn't sure if my Internet friendship could exist outside of cyberspace, until I found out we would be living six doors away from each other in the same hall. Talk about bizarre.
Together, we managed to form our own group of friends with other student fellow group misfits, nicknaming this group "The Posse." Together, we skipped scheduled orientation events, roamed around campus in disoriented packs, scarfed down copius amounts of food from the campus dining hall and talked smack about other dorms--all while the other new students were going to cool off-campus parties. Yeah, we were lame. As a matter of fact, we still are as we've managed to remain friends to this day.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The Saga Begins
Quite possibly, the question I most frequently ask myself is, "What do I want to do with my life?" For years, I've tried to figure it out myself. When I was in high school, I entered the school's pre-med program thinking that "I'm a smart person. Maybe I should be a doctor." Then I found out that I don't possess a lot of skills that doctors possess, such as people skills. And "looking at blood" skills. Eww. And knowing me, I'd be the doctor with a really twisted sense of humor who accidentally makes a joke about false teeth while roaming around in the geriatric department; needless to say, medicine was ruled out pretty quickly.
Since then I've explored everything from law to scientific research, then somehow landed in College Relations here at Vassar. While I enjoy many aspects of my job here, I've learned that I'm not exactly skilled when it comes to general office tasks. Even with 7 months of work experience, I still can't properly answer a phone and frequently get in fights with the copy machine. And as I frequently repeat at the expense of my fellow student workers, "I wasn't cut out for this life. Sigh."
After summer internships in journalism, television writing, and, finally, blogging, I'm starting to get a sense of what I like, but barely. You'd think that by being myself I'd know myself, but somehow other people tend to know me better than I do--if that makes any sense. By taking the advice of a few alum friends who recommended the Vassar Career Development Office (and also happen to have jobs), last week I finally admitted defeat and decided to give it a shot.
The nice lady who works at the Career Development Office (or CDO) desk set me up for an appointment that actually occurred this week. In order to prepare, I had to fill out a yellow form stating my problem, interests, thoughts about the future, and barriers in my future planning. I wasn't quite sure what the answers to these questions were so I had to ask for help, which kind of made me feel like I was cheating on a test. "Psst, [Inserts friend's name here], what's the answer to number four?" "Only you know that," said my boyfriend in an annoyed voice. Eventually, I came up with a few answers, a couple of my interests being ukulele, the food network, and kayaking-none of which seemed very career related, unless somehow I could make a living as a ukulele-playing kayaker with a cooking show, but I'm pretty sure there's no market for that yet.
As soon as I entered my career counselors office, it was as if I had suddenly developed amnesia. I had no idea why I was there (the same type of confusion I experienced before taking the SAT) or what my questions were, which is exactly what she wanted to know. I spat out a really general answer, something along the lines of, "I don't know where to start," to which she said, "How about with your major?"
To be honest, I don't know what I like about Sociology, which is exactly what I told her. It just seemed right to me, which is the way most things are. I can't define my interests on paper, but I can tell what feels natural.
Like classes, for instance. Trying a different approach to pinpoint my interests, she asks, "Can you name your favorite classes at Vassar?"
I knew this question wouldn't be the answer to my problem, mainly because my favorite classes have all been so different. As far as my top three go, I'd have to say my German Studies freshman course called "Vampires, Lunatics, and Cyborgs," Relativity (a physics course), and Drugs, Culture, and Society (compliments of the Sociology department-> highly recommended!). Liberal Arts school-1; CDO-0.
Now, I don't know if this is true or if she was just trying to make me feel better about myself, but she said my issue was common and most people don't know what they want to do with the rest of their lives when they're in college. (Which maybe explains why my three best friends know exactly what they want to pursue? For the sake of my nerves, I'll assume I have some really odd friends.)
My counselor directed me to a few websites provided by the CDO giving career advice and information. One of them is called "Vault," which is a really helpful website in terms of information about fields and matching careers with personality types. Unfortunately, every time I saw a career that seemed to fit my personality type, I also saw that these careers were not for people with traits such as "disorganized" or "procrastinator," which pretty much rules them out.
Another service offered by the CDO that I'm curious to try is called V-Net. V-Net is a networking tool (hence the name) that students can use to get in touch with Alums who have volunteered to act as career mentors. For example, you can search for someone in a specific place, field, or, who graduated with the same degree that you are pursuing, then find out what they do now and contact them. By contacting them, they will hopefully answer questions about their field and encourage networking with other people in the field that interests you. As my career counselor said, it's not uncommon for students to find a job through V-Net with mentors they find online-that is, if the career interests you.
I'm scheduled to take a personality test next week, which sounds really interesting (if they can give me any answers, I'll assume they use magic), as well as a follow up meeting with a careers counselor, who will be able to give me more information and guidance based on my answers from the personality test.
I haven't made too much progress in my career search yet, but maybe with some luck (and perhaps a bit of fairy dust) I'll be able to name some career relevant interests by the time I graduate.... then all I need to do is find a job.
Since then I've explored everything from law to scientific research, then somehow landed in College Relations here at Vassar. While I enjoy many aspects of my job here, I've learned that I'm not exactly skilled when it comes to general office tasks. Even with 7 months of work experience, I still can't properly answer a phone and frequently get in fights with the copy machine. And as I frequently repeat at the expense of my fellow student workers, "I wasn't cut out for this life. Sigh."
After summer internships in journalism, television writing, and, finally, blogging, I'm starting to get a sense of what I like, but barely. You'd think that by being myself I'd know myself, but somehow other people tend to know me better than I do--if that makes any sense. By taking the advice of a few alum friends who recommended the Vassar Career Development Office (and also happen to have jobs), last week I finally admitted defeat and decided to give it a shot.
The nice lady who works at the Career Development Office (or CDO) desk set me up for an appointment that actually occurred this week. In order to prepare, I had to fill out a yellow form stating my problem, interests, thoughts about the future, and barriers in my future planning. I wasn't quite sure what the answers to these questions were so I had to ask for help, which kind of made me feel like I was cheating on a test. "Psst, [Inserts friend's name here], what's the answer to number four?" "Only you know that," said my boyfriend in an annoyed voice. Eventually, I came up with a few answers, a couple of my interests being ukulele, the food network, and kayaking-none of which seemed very career related, unless somehow I could make a living as a ukulele-playing kayaker with a cooking show, but I'm pretty sure there's no market for that yet.
As soon as I entered my career counselors office, it was as if I had suddenly developed amnesia. I had no idea why I was there (the same type of confusion I experienced before taking the SAT) or what my questions were, which is exactly what she wanted to know. I spat out a really general answer, something along the lines of, "I don't know where to start," to which she said, "How about with your major?"
To be honest, I don't know what I like about Sociology, which is exactly what I told her. It just seemed right to me, which is the way most things are. I can't define my interests on paper, but I can tell what feels natural.
Like classes, for instance. Trying a different approach to pinpoint my interests, she asks, "Can you name your favorite classes at Vassar?"
I knew this question wouldn't be the answer to my problem, mainly because my favorite classes have all been so different. As far as my top three go, I'd have to say my German Studies freshman course called "Vampires, Lunatics, and Cyborgs," Relativity (a physics course), and Drugs, Culture, and Society (compliments of the Sociology department-> highly recommended!). Liberal Arts school-1; CDO-0.
Now, I don't know if this is true or if she was just trying to make me feel better about myself, but she said my issue was common and most people don't know what they want to do with the rest of their lives when they're in college. (Which maybe explains why my three best friends know exactly what they want to pursue? For the sake of my nerves, I'll assume I have some really odd friends.)
My counselor directed me to a few websites provided by the CDO giving career advice and information. One of them is called "Vault," which is a really helpful website in terms of information about fields and matching careers with personality types. Unfortunately, every time I saw a career that seemed to fit my personality type, I also saw that these careers were not for people with traits such as "disorganized" or "procrastinator," which pretty much rules them out.
Another service offered by the CDO that I'm curious to try is called V-Net. V-Net is a networking tool (hence the name) that students can use to get in touch with Alums who have volunteered to act as career mentors. For example, you can search for someone in a specific place, field, or, who graduated with the same degree that you are pursuing, then find out what they do now and contact them. By contacting them, they will hopefully answer questions about their field and encourage networking with other people in the field that interests you. As my career counselor said, it's not uncommon for students to find a job through V-Net with mentors they find online-that is, if the career interests you.
I'm scheduled to take a personality test next week, which sounds really interesting (if they can give me any answers, I'll assume they use magic), as well as a follow up meeting with a careers counselor, who will be able to give me more information and guidance based on my answers from the personality test.
I haven't made too much progress in my career search yet, but maybe with some luck (and perhaps a bit of fairy dust) I'll be able to name some career relevant interests by the time I graduate.... then all I need to do is find a job.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Curtain-Less
What really surprises me is how much of a girl I am when it comes to things such as napkins and shower curtains. In fact, I was actually excited over how well my towels matched the shower curtain rings in my TA when it came time for me to actually break down and decide that “perhaps I don’t want showering to be something I fear due to my lack of skill when it comes to showering curtain-less.” Yes, that's right. I moved--and my house didn't come with a shower curtain. In fact, it didn't come with a lot of things, for example, toilet paper. You'd think they'd at least cut us some slack and say, "We'll give you the first roll, but after that you're on your own." But no, in this case it was more like, "You have to use the bathroom? This should be funny." I'd like to walk around on move in day and see how many rolls are missing from the dorms due to unsuspecting seniors.
After weeks of frantically observing utter destruction (or what others might consider "construction") occur within the boundaries of the TA's (Terrace Apartments), on Friday I was finally able to chill out and move from Main Building to my newly renovated apartment! I've had the area under heavy surveillance for the entire summer, watching every budge of the construction equipment within the area to ensure that the move into senior housing would actually happen. I know there were at least a few times when I called my boyfriend in terror to say "Pat! 'The Claw' is attacking the TA's!" ("The Claw" being the scary looking machine with a clawed arm) to which he would respond, "Don't worry, it's just construction equipment. It won't hurt them." With me on the watch, nothing could foil my plans of moving into senior housing, except perhaps the threat of nuclear war.
When the day I'd spent the entire summer waiting for finally came, I was prepared. I had loaded up my car the night before in an attempt to begin moving as soon as possible. Two of my housemates arrived around noon on the day of to help me with the move because some of the things I had been storing will be mutually shared this year. With the three of us moving, I predicted that we would be done in no time. Unfortunately, no time ended up being 10 hours, after which I was completely beat. Thank god I'm not moving again until May.
Originally, my friend Chel and I had made plans to go to her house in New Jersey for the weekend after relaxing with a couple of post-move enchiladas and Pina Coladas, but by 10:30, it didn't look as if that were going to happen. In fact, to make matters worse, we couldn't even lock the beautiful new door to our TA. Thinking that the ROC (Residential Operations Center) could help, my friend and I stopped there on our way out to see if they could lock the door for us. But as soon as we mentioned to the problem to the ROC worker, a look of horror appeared on her face and she immediately called the Security office. My friend and I looked at each other, shrugging, as if there was anything valuable in our house anyways. We just wanted dinner.
When the ROC worker finished her call, she told us that the trouble-shooter would meet us up at our house in a few minutes to help us with our problem. And it was after he arrived that we found out why she was shocked. Seeing as our door had problems, it was very possible that some or all of the other doors had problems as well, which could cause a lot of fuss on campus. But after checking 4 or 5 of the doors of the houses surrounding mine, the trouble-shooter predicted that our non-locking door was a fluke. Figures.
The trouble-shooter is basically one man who has to fix all of the problems on campus. This head-honcho Mr. Fix-It of the Building and Grounds department wanders day and night looking for trouble, following security's lead to all of the impending problems around campus. And as I found out when I worked Campus Patrol, he even has his own radio line, which pretty much screams "IMPORTANT!"
But of course, the one who figured out the problem wasn't the trouble-shooter, but me. "It's like it's backwards or something...." I stammered, while the trouble-shooter inspected the door handle. While it sounded dumb at the time, it was probably the most intelligent statement within the past half hour. At least now we knew the problem, but the real trouble was fixing it. At that point we were allowed to leave, and the trouble-shooter said he would do his best to come up with a temporary fix, but the door handle wouldn't be reversed until after the weekend.
By the time we were able to leave, it was ridiculously late and we had to get food at the only place that never closes: The Acrop. Of course, their menu is probably the size of every other campus restaurants' combined, but somehow they managed to whip out both a Chicken Marsala and a roast beef and cheddar Panini in what seemed like 10 minutes. But as long as it's good, I won't question their methods.
After weeks of frantically observing utter destruction (or what others might consider "construction") occur within the boundaries of the TA's (Terrace Apartments), on Friday I was finally able to chill out and move from Main Building to my newly renovated apartment! I've had the area under heavy surveillance for the entire summer, watching every budge of the construction equipment within the area to ensure that the move into senior housing would actually happen. I know there were at least a few times when I called my boyfriend in terror to say "Pat! 'The Claw' is attacking the TA's!" ("The Claw" being the scary looking machine with a clawed arm) to which he would respond, "Don't worry, it's just construction equipment. It won't hurt them." With me on the watch, nothing could foil my plans of moving into senior housing, except perhaps the threat of nuclear war.
When the day I'd spent the entire summer waiting for finally came, I was prepared. I had loaded up my car the night before in an attempt to begin moving as soon as possible. Two of my housemates arrived around noon on the day of to help me with the move because some of the things I had been storing will be mutually shared this year. With the three of us moving, I predicted that we would be done in no time. Unfortunately, no time ended up being 10 hours, after which I was completely beat. Thank god I'm not moving again until May.
Originally, my friend Chel and I had made plans to go to her house in New Jersey for the weekend after relaxing with a couple of post-move enchiladas and Pina Coladas, but by 10:30, it didn't look as if that were going to happen. In fact, to make matters worse, we couldn't even lock the beautiful new door to our TA. Thinking that the ROC (Residential Operations Center) could help, my friend and I stopped there on our way out to see if they could lock the door for us. But as soon as we mentioned to the problem to the ROC worker, a look of horror appeared on her face and she immediately called the Security office. My friend and I looked at each other, shrugging, as if there was anything valuable in our house anyways. We just wanted dinner.
When the ROC worker finished her call, she told us that the trouble-shooter would meet us up at our house in a few minutes to help us with our problem. And it was after he arrived that we found out why she was shocked. Seeing as our door had problems, it was very possible that some or all of the other doors had problems as well, which could cause a lot of fuss on campus. But after checking 4 or 5 of the doors of the houses surrounding mine, the trouble-shooter predicted that our non-locking door was a fluke. Figures.
The trouble-shooter is basically one man who has to fix all of the problems on campus. This head-honcho Mr. Fix-It of the Building and Grounds department wanders day and night looking for trouble, following security's lead to all of the impending problems around campus. And as I found out when I worked Campus Patrol, he even has his own radio line, which pretty much screams "IMPORTANT!"
But of course, the one who figured out the problem wasn't the trouble-shooter, but me. "It's like it's backwards or something...." I stammered, while the trouble-shooter inspected the door handle. While it sounded dumb at the time, it was probably the most intelligent statement within the past half hour. At least now we knew the problem, but the real trouble was fixing it. At that point we were allowed to leave, and the trouble-shooter said he would do his best to come up with a temporary fix, but the door handle wouldn't be reversed until after the weekend.
By the time we were able to leave, it was ridiculously late and we had to get food at the only place that never closes: The Acrop. Of course, their menu is probably the size of every other campus restaurants' combined, but somehow they managed to whip out both a Chicken Marsala and a roast beef and cheddar Panini in what seemed like 10 minutes. But as long as it's good, I won't question their methods.
Monday, August 13, 2007
The Main 456 Zoo
Summer is finally coming to a close as there are now only two weeks left until students arrive! Soon, my full time job here in College Relations will be over and I'll be able to do what I love the most--study.
I'd say that my experience here in College Relations has been comparable to Alice in Wonderland: Every morning I wake up, and, after downing a cup of magical liquid labeled "drink me" (coffee, of course), I retreat into a mystical world of the unknown--the 9 to 5 white collar working world--while crying, "I'm late! I'm late!" until I reach the office door at the end of a long, dark staircase. The downside, obviously, is that unlike in Alice in Wonderland, there is no caterpillar smoking a hookah, which makes me die a little on the inside.
In other news, I think I've made a name for myself around Vassar as the "Campus Pet-Sitter," because starting tomorrow, I won't just have a rat under my care; instead, I'll have two geckos, a snake, and a rat. My room has become quite the zoo as of recent--maybe I should start charging admission. (As you know, I'm always on the lookout for some sort of money making scheme. My tuition bill is coming up and so far I haven't thought of anything legal. My best idea thus far was buying stuff from the local pawn shop to sell on eBay but I know nothing about market value. Maybe I should stick to pet-sitting...) These--for lack of a better term--"creatures" are coming from my friend Tarantula Joe, who made a name for himself on campus by having his pet tarantula escape from it's cage last year to be found hiding in his sock drawer. It's kind of a cute story, but apparently the administration didn't think so. As I should have stated in my packing list, poisonous creatures are no longer allowed on campus, thanks to Tarantula Joe. Poor Tarantula Joe had to sell his favorite pets, but replacing the tarantulas will be dart frogs, which I love.
We're starting to close in on Freshman Week right now, and every year at about this time I tend to think back and reflect on my Freshman Week--sappy, I know. (At this point, no one is allowed to remind me that I'm graduating this year, but so far I think the only person that's been reminding me is myself. Ooops.) Of course, this year I move into Senior Housing, which I love to mention, if you haven't figured that out already, but to be honest, I will miss some things about dorm life. For example, house fellows. Now, it sounds scary to be living in (possibly) the same dorm as one of your professors, but it's really not. They could invite you to dinner, and you know I love free food. In Cushing we always had the beginning of the year ice cream social at the house fellows apartment and I'll definitely miss that. Trust me, I'm trying to devise a way to sneak in when it rolls around this year.
Another dorm "authority" with no power is the student fellow, which I suppose is similar to a house fellow except a student. Get it? Everyone has their own student fellow (even I do, although he's graduated) to whom they are assigned as a freshman and this person acts kind of like a guide as opposed to an actual authority figure. So instead of hiding your bad behavior (as if you were being observed by an RA), you are advised against your bad behavior--although I'll go ahead and assume we're all saints around here.
The other students assigned to your student fellow are known as your "student fellow group." Vassar sets up student fellow groups of approximately 12-15 students (that's my best guess) who generally live in the same area close to their student fellow. Sometimes ResLife does a great job of picking these groups; sometimes it looks like something went haywire and all of a sudden you have a group of all guys. Some of my friends made their best friends in college from their student fellow groups and remained friends with some or all of them throughout college, while other groups didn't really mesh so well... if at all. Mine was probably more of the latter. But don't fret-I made some of my best friends by not really meshing with my student fellow group, so it usually works out for everyone some way or another.
Today is the official day that I start packing for my move this coming Friday (I was too lazy to start yesterday), which ultimately means the beginning of "back to school!" Yeah, I know my excitement has no explanation.
I'd say that my experience here in College Relations has been comparable to Alice in Wonderland: Every morning I wake up, and, after downing a cup of magical liquid labeled "drink me" (coffee, of course), I retreat into a mystical world of the unknown--the 9 to 5 white collar working world--while crying, "I'm late! I'm late!" until I reach the office door at the end of a long, dark staircase. The downside, obviously, is that unlike in Alice in Wonderland, there is no caterpillar smoking a hookah, which makes me die a little on the inside.
In other news, I think I've made a name for myself around Vassar as the "Campus Pet-Sitter," because starting tomorrow, I won't just have a rat under my care; instead, I'll have two geckos, a snake, and a rat. My room has become quite the zoo as of recent--maybe I should start charging admission. (As you know, I'm always on the lookout for some sort of money making scheme. My tuition bill is coming up and so far I haven't thought of anything legal. My best idea thus far was buying stuff from the local pawn shop to sell on eBay but I know nothing about market value. Maybe I should stick to pet-sitting...) These--for lack of a better term--"creatures" are coming from my friend Tarantula Joe, who made a name for himself on campus by having his pet tarantula escape from it's cage last year to be found hiding in his sock drawer. It's kind of a cute story, but apparently the administration didn't think so. As I should have stated in my packing list, poisonous creatures are no longer allowed on campus, thanks to Tarantula Joe. Poor Tarantula Joe had to sell his favorite pets, but replacing the tarantulas will be dart frogs, which I love.
We're starting to close in on Freshman Week right now, and every year at about this time I tend to think back and reflect on my Freshman Week--sappy, I know. (At this point, no one is allowed to remind me that I'm graduating this year, but so far I think the only person that's been reminding me is myself. Ooops.) Of course, this year I move into Senior Housing, which I love to mention, if you haven't figured that out already, but to be honest, I will miss some things about dorm life. For example, house fellows. Now, it sounds scary to be living in (possibly) the same dorm as one of your professors, but it's really not. They could invite you to dinner, and you know I love free food. In Cushing we always had the beginning of the year ice cream social at the house fellows apartment and I'll definitely miss that. Trust me, I'm trying to devise a way to sneak in when it rolls around this year.
Another dorm "authority" with no power is the student fellow, which I suppose is similar to a house fellow except a student. Get it? Everyone has their own student fellow (even I do, although he's graduated) to whom they are assigned as a freshman and this person acts kind of like a guide as opposed to an actual authority figure. So instead of hiding your bad behavior (as if you were being observed by an RA), you are advised against your bad behavior--although I'll go ahead and assume we're all saints around here.
The other students assigned to your student fellow are known as your "student fellow group." Vassar sets up student fellow groups of approximately 12-15 students (that's my best guess) who generally live in the same area close to their student fellow. Sometimes ResLife does a great job of picking these groups; sometimes it looks like something went haywire and all of a sudden you have a group of all guys. Some of my friends made their best friends in college from their student fellow groups and remained friends with some or all of them throughout college, while other groups didn't really mesh so well... if at all. Mine was probably more of the latter. But don't fret-I made some of my best friends by not really meshing with my student fellow group, so it usually works out for everyone some way or another.
Today is the official day that I start packing for my move this coming Friday (I was too lazy to start yesterday), which ultimately means the beginning of "back to school!" Yeah, I know my excitement has no explanation.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
A Different Kind of Workday Break...
In case you haven't noticed yet, I have a knack for hurting myself--and usually out of my own carelessness.
To emphasize my point, I wish I had a cool story as to why there is a scar on my foot, but instead it's summed up in this simple two word phrase: I tripped. If I were cleverer, I would probably make up a really cool story as to how it happened. Something like, "I was chasing the bear who stole my picnic basket, and, when I finally caught up to him, I decided to fight him with my own bare hands. Then, in one, swift stroke, he took his front claw and sliced open my foot, forever haunting me with this jagged scar." Hmm. Maybe I'll start telling people that's what happened...
I'm still the only person from my high school to be injured during both an academic challenge tournament and a speech tournament-and each time I left the classroom bleeding. When I asked my instructor at speech camp what she would have done if she'd injured herself during her performance, she said she would have excused herself and left. On the contrary, I had decided to continue performing and left the stage bleeding from an over-dramatic cut that I'd accidentally received while playing the part of a confused Home Depot customer.
So when I broke my toe during my cushy office job last Thursday, it really came as no surprise. For me, it's perfectly natural to trip over the leg of a couch while hearing a loud "CRACK!" come from the direction of my foot during an eight hour shift requiring no physical effort on my part.
Refusing to accept my injury as serious, I tried walking on it (rather unsuccessfully) for a day and a half before deciding that maybe I should get a professional diagnosis instead. Because Baldwin, the school clinic, is closed during the summer, I had to go to a local hospital-type place called Medicus. Medicus is kind of like a doctor's office with no appointment necessary, but for less serious injuries than a hospital; in other words, a good place for a foot injury. My doctor at Medicus was a witty, monotone man that kind of creeped me out, but enjoyed my sense of humor about the whole foot situation. He sent me for x-rays (which was a really cool experience in my opinion), then tested my Vassar education by asking me to identify the injury.
"Looks like nothing's wrong to me," I said after briefly glancing at the x-ray in disbelief.
"Are you sure that your eyeglass's prescription is still good?" The doctor asked me, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Don't you see the break?!"
Oh, right. And there it was-a solid black line running diagonally across my smallest toe. How could I have missed that?
He explained to me that I had an Oblique Fracture, and having never experienced a broken bone before, I got pretty excited and asked him what restrictions he was giving me. But apparently broken toes don't call for restrictions. Casually explaining that toes are pretty trivial appendages, and, after I questioned him about possible, ridiculous scenarios, he explained that, yes, I could even go running if I wanted to, which kind of broke my heart. If I’m going to break something, it might as well be dramatic, right? Alas, just another boring injury with a sub-par story.
To emphasize my point, I wish I had a cool story as to why there is a scar on my foot, but instead it's summed up in this simple two word phrase: I tripped. If I were cleverer, I would probably make up a really cool story as to how it happened. Something like, "I was chasing the bear who stole my picnic basket, and, when I finally caught up to him, I decided to fight him with my own bare hands. Then, in one, swift stroke, he took his front claw and sliced open my foot, forever haunting me with this jagged scar." Hmm. Maybe I'll start telling people that's what happened...
I'm still the only person from my high school to be injured during both an academic challenge tournament and a speech tournament-and each time I left the classroom bleeding. When I asked my instructor at speech camp what she would have done if she'd injured herself during her performance, she said she would have excused herself and left. On the contrary, I had decided to continue performing and left the stage bleeding from an over-dramatic cut that I'd accidentally received while playing the part of a confused Home Depot customer.
So when I broke my toe during my cushy office job last Thursday, it really came as no surprise. For me, it's perfectly natural to trip over the leg of a couch while hearing a loud "CRACK!" come from the direction of my foot during an eight hour shift requiring no physical effort on my part.
Refusing to accept my injury as serious, I tried walking on it (rather unsuccessfully) for a day and a half before deciding that maybe I should get a professional diagnosis instead. Because Baldwin, the school clinic, is closed during the summer, I had to go to a local hospital-type place called Medicus. Medicus is kind of like a doctor's office with no appointment necessary, but for less serious injuries than a hospital; in other words, a good place for a foot injury. My doctor at Medicus was a witty, monotone man that kind of creeped me out, but enjoyed my sense of humor about the whole foot situation. He sent me for x-rays (which was a really cool experience in my opinion), then tested my Vassar education by asking me to identify the injury.
"Looks like nothing's wrong to me," I said after briefly glancing at the x-ray in disbelief.
"Are you sure that your eyeglass's prescription is still good?" The doctor asked me, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Don't you see the break?!"
Oh, right. And there it was-a solid black line running diagonally across my smallest toe. How could I have missed that?
He explained to me that I had an Oblique Fracture, and having never experienced a broken bone before, I got pretty excited and asked him what restrictions he was giving me. But apparently broken toes don't call for restrictions. Casually explaining that toes are pretty trivial appendages, and, after I questioned him about possible, ridiculous scenarios, he explained that, yes, I could even go running if I wanted to, which kind of broke my heart. If I’m going to break something, it might as well be dramatic, right? Alas, just another boring injury with a sub-par story.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Packing List
I must admit that I’ve already starting counting down the days until classes begin (24!) due to my sick obsession with things such as homework and learning. Excuse me for being cliché, but it seriously feels like only yesterday that I moved into my second summer housing room, and in a mere eleven days I’m scheduled to take up semi-permanent residence in the Terrace Apartments for the school year.
Whether you’ve already finished packing for school or barely thought about it, tis the season—and here it is: My packing list.
Take It:
Musical Instrument(s)—but please, for the sake of my ears, and everybody else’s for that matter, don’t crank up the volume of your electric guitar to full blast if you don’t know how to play.
Mattress Pad—highly recommended, unless you like to feel like you slept on a plastic board when you wake up in the morning.
Stereo—but personally, I recommend portable computer speakers considering all of my music is on my computer anyways.
Posters—a must. It’s amazing how less sterile the white washed dorm rooms feel with a little color.
Alarm Clock—there is no way I’d make it to class without one.
Hangers
Bathrobe—no, you will not have a private bathroom.
Computer
Printer—I’ve got 99 problems, and four of them are the printers at the library.
Surge Protector—your computer is probably your most important resource. Protect it.
Fan—I have four. What does that tell you?
Coffee Pot—the best way to save money at the dining hall is to brew your own. But make sure to get auto-shutoff!
Athletic Clothes/Equipment—don’t let the freshman 15 catch up to you.
Shelving
Refrigerator—for leftover pizza, of course.
Linens
Lamps—I prefer a room lamp and a desk lamp to the overhead light.
Laundry Supplies
Light bulbs
Toiletries—an extra toothbrush is recommended. Mine was stolen once and rediscovered later with alien toothpaste on it. I threw it away immediately.
Telephone
First Aid Kit
Rug—it adds a little coziness to your room.
Recommended:
Turn Table—to impress all of your friends.
Hot Pot with auto-shutoff—useful for making Ramen noodles and other typical college food.
Video Games—the easiest way to make new friends.
Vacuum Cleaner—I can put up with a mess, but filth is going too far.
Tape Recorder—especially recommended for social science students (I would know!).
Board Games
Bicycle and Lock
Leave It:
Family Heirlooms—aka every picture you’ve taken from the past 10 years; the gold tiara you inherited from Aunt Sally; your grandmothers wedding ring.....
Tiki Torches—major fire=major fine. And you don’t want to mess with Vassar Security. For a list of these items, check out: http://residentiallife.vassar.edu/prohibited.html
Your Officially Licensed Anduril Sword of Aragon—whether your intentions are show or kill, it will most likely scare your roommate and get you kicked out of housing.
Max or Fido—only animals that can be kept in a cage are allowed in housing. Bring your dog or cat and they’ll soon find out what life is like on the streets of Poughkeepsie.
Candelabrum—three candles=three times more trouble.
Your Life Size Cardboard Cut Out Of James Dean
Fireworks/Explosives/Anything Else Questionably Dangerous
Most importantly, use your common sense when packing. Especially if you are a freshman, it’s important to take space, and the type of relationship you’d like to have with your roommate, into consideration. I had a friend who had serious issues with his roommate, and trust me—it didn’t end pretty.
Whether you’ve already finished packing for school or barely thought about it, tis the season—and here it is: My packing list.
Take It:
Musical Instrument(s)—but please, for the sake of my ears, and everybody else’s for that matter, don’t crank up the volume of your electric guitar to full blast if you don’t know how to play.
Mattress Pad—highly recommended, unless you like to feel like you slept on a plastic board when you wake up in the morning.
Stereo—but personally, I recommend portable computer speakers considering all of my music is on my computer anyways.
Posters—a must. It’s amazing how less sterile the white washed dorm rooms feel with a little color.
Alarm Clock—there is no way I’d make it to class without one.
Hangers
Bathrobe—no, you will not have a private bathroom.
Computer
Printer—I’ve got 99 problems, and four of them are the printers at the library.
Surge Protector—your computer is probably your most important resource. Protect it.
Fan—I have four. What does that tell you?
Coffee Pot—the best way to save money at the dining hall is to brew your own. But make sure to get auto-shutoff!
Athletic Clothes/Equipment—don’t let the freshman 15 catch up to you.
Shelving
Refrigerator—for leftover pizza, of course.
Linens
Lamps—I prefer a room lamp and a desk lamp to the overhead light.
Laundry Supplies
Light bulbs
Toiletries—an extra toothbrush is recommended. Mine was stolen once and rediscovered later with alien toothpaste on it. I threw it away immediately.
Telephone
First Aid Kit
Rug—it adds a little coziness to your room.
Recommended:
Turn Table—to impress all of your friends.
Hot Pot with auto-shutoff—useful for making Ramen noodles and other typical college food.
Video Games—the easiest way to make new friends.
Vacuum Cleaner—I can put up with a mess, but filth is going too far.
Tape Recorder—especially recommended for social science students (I would know!).
Board Games
Bicycle and Lock
Leave It:
Family Heirlooms—aka every picture you’ve taken from the past 10 years; the gold tiara you inherited from Aunt Sally; your grandmothers wedding ring.....
Tiki Torches—major fire=major fine. And you don’t want to mess with Vassar Security. For a list of these items, check out: http://residentiallife.vassar.edu/prohibited.html
Your Officially Licensed Anduril Sword of Aragon—whether your intentions are show or kill, it will most likely scare your roommate and get you kicked out of housing.
Max or Fido—only animals that can be kept in a cage are allowed in housing. Bring your dog or cat and they’ll soon find out what life is like on the streets of Poughkeepsie.
Candelabrum—three candles=three times more trouble.
Your Life Size Cardboard Cut Out Of James Dean
Fireworks/Explosives/Anything Else Questionably Dangerous
Most importantly, use your common sense when packing. Especially if you are a freshman, it’s important to take space, and the type of relationship you’d like to have with your roommate, into consideration. I had a friend who had serious issues with his roommate, and trust me—it didn’t end pretty.
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis
Ever since I was kid (or, at least a small kid as opposed to the big kid that I am now), I've had a thing for Scrabble. But I'm not ashamed. In fact, I'll even tell you that a friend of mine and I are training to become competitive Scrabble players. Yep, that's right—part of the Scrabble "elite." The kind of Scrabble players who can lay down a word worth 50 points and say, "Eh, that's about mediocre for my standards. I've done much better with 5 A's and 2 Q's."
I've become so serious in fact that I have even started planning the "awesome" Scrabble parties that will soon be taking place at my apartment this upcoming semester. You know, with salsa and chips, and a few, erm, Shirley Temples. I've been thinking along the lines of hosting a tournament with maybe four games of scrabble going simultaneously. What a beautiful sight. So many letters..... so many words!! But until I reach the level necessary in order to justify holding a Scrabble tournament, I kind of need to brush up my own skills first. I'm working on memorizing all of the two letter words right now, and as soon as I can list them all off of the top of my head, I'll start on the three letter words. I'd say I've improved a lot since the beginning of the summer, but I'm still not up to my top game yet. I've seen a guy snag 50+ points for "PANTIES" on his first turn, and THAT was cheap. I need to get my revenge.
And while I'd say I've gotten pretty obsessive with Scrabble lately, I'd argue that I'm not the worst. Legend has it that a friend of mine wrote an ethnography on Scrabble back in the day for his anthropology class. In fact, I don't really think that my love of Scrabble is that bad after all. Lots of people love Scrabble. It's a good game. I definitely have weirder antics, such as my fear of maps. I just can't help it; maps FREAK ME OUT.
I've become so serious in fact that I have even started planning the "awesome" Scrabble parties that will soon be taking place at my apartment this upcoming semester. You know, with salsa and chips, and a few, erm, Shirley Temples. I've been thinking along the lines of hosting a tournament with maybe four games of scrabble going simultaneously. What a beautiful sight. So many letters..... so many words!! But until I reach the level necessary in order to justify holding a Scrabble tournament, I kind of need to brush up my own skills first. I'm working on memorizing all of the two letter words right now, and as soon as I can list them all off of the top of my head, I'll start on the three letter words. I'd say I've improved a lot since the beginning of the summer, but I'm still not up to my top game yet. I've seen a guy snag 50+ points for "PANTIES" on his first turn, and THAT was cheap. I need to get my revenge.
And while I'd say I've gotten pretty obsessive with Scrabble lately, I'd argue that I'm not the worst. Legend has it that a friend of mine wrote an ethnography on Scrabble back in the day for his anthropology class. In fact, I don't really think that my love of Scrabble is that bad after all. Lots of people love Scrabble. It's a good game. I definitely have weirder antics, such as my fear of maps. I just can't help it; maps FREAK ME OUT.
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