Monday, August 31, 2015

Cools & Not Cools

By no means do I plan to typically rant about myself this frequently (because school), but since it is the start of term and I still happen to have real and tangible (sort of) (okay not literally) free time, I decided to very briefly talk about a couple of cool/not cool things I've experienced/witnessed around here.

Cool: Living in my dorm house. We are pretty cool people. We play music! There are a total of (at the very least) three keyboards, two guitars, one ukulele, and many many voices among our approximately thirty (actually, maybe less) person group. Also, people play hangman slash post riddles slash draw super fantastic pictures on the whiteboards on the doors. Doesn't get much cooler than that.

Not Cool: The puddle in the middle of the first-floor bathroom. I know this is karma because I have a friend who stayed in a college dorm over the summer and told me the story of a huge puddle in the middle of her bathroom. Naturally, the first thing I did after moving in was text her saying something along the lines of, We have a single-person bathroom on our floor and there's no puddle in the middle. Ha.

Flash forward to the next morning, when I opened the bathroom door and found this taking up the entire doorway (and basically entire floor space):

Thanks, karma. I'm pretty sure I've pulled muscles trying to jump over this monstrosity of a puddle to get to the toilet. Are you happy now?

Cool: My dorm room. Because it's mine. Duh.

Not Cool: (literally) My dorm room. Check out my (super cool!) lamp that also gives the date, time, and temperature - the only time it ever drops to 90 is when the perpetually-cold-air-blasting fan rotates away from it. And for the record, it's 95 right now. Thumbs down.

Cool: Walking around campus, because it's beautiful. I'd draw a picture for you, but I lack the artistic talent to not ruin the beauty of campus in a drawing.

Not Cool: Tripping around campus with broken flip-flops like a clumsy homeless person because said flip-flops are the super cheap one-dollar kind and the thing between your toes keeps falling out literally every five seconds. Moral of the story: next time, buy cheap one-dollar slides. Except I'm pretty sure those don't exist.

(Unfortunately for those of you looking to kill more Internet-surfing time, I'm so disheartened by the implosion of my super-cheap flip-flops (what am I supposed to wear to the bathroom now, rain boots?) that I can't even draw a picture of me flopping around campus for your amusement. But maybe next time.)

Sunday, August 30, 2015

The Tale of the Cookie Crumb

I am here today to tell you a story about a box, a cookie crumb, and my willpower. Basically this is one huge meaningless soap-opera episode in which I - well, you'll see what happens.

It all started off when my roommate ordered a box of Insomnia Cookies (from the store across the street and one block down. One block down!) If you don't understand the importance of this, I suggest you find an Insomnia Cookie store immediately and order a box of fresh, hot cookies. (They also have super-cute bottles of milk!)

My roommate (who very generously offered me one of the Insomnia Cookies, by the way) happened to leave the box in our room, and because boxes are meant to be opened, I decided to peek inside, even though I already knew that it contained one delicious peanut-butter cookie meant for my roommate. I guess I just had to look because the cookie was just so beautiful. So, anyway, I carefully lifted the lid, and there it was: one peanut-butter cookie in all of its cookie wonderfulness, sitting all alone-


Not alone.

Sitting off to the side, forgotten but equally appealing, was a decent-sized cookie crumb from one of the other cookies.

Part of a cookie! I was thrilled -

- until I realized, Wait a minute. I should probably not eat this.

Now, I love Insomnia Cookies just as much as the next sane person. But the thing is, I have actually made the goal not to gain the Freshman 50. If you don't understand the importance of not eating the cookie crumb in this context, I suggest you eat approximately five to seven Insomnia Cookies in a row, bask in the glory of cookie heaven, and then Google the nutrition facts and realize you've just consumed enough calories to last you five days*.

And yes, I know, it's only a crumb. (A large crumb, but a crumb nonetheless.) But as I stood there contemplating the consumption of said cookie crumb, the picture suddenly got a lot bigger.

I saw myself taking a crumb, then a quarter of a cookie, then half, then all of it. I saw myself crossing the cookie threshold into a land unlimited in sugar and dough. I saw myself feasting on cookie upon cookie, crumb upon crumb, each one growing larger, until I was surrounded by chocolate chunk cookies and sugar cookies and oatmeal raisin cookies and double chocolate mint cookies alike.

For a moment it was all warm and fuzzy and I was like, I could definitely stay here among the cookies.

But then I was like, This means my dormmates will have to roll me out of our house at the end of the year.

And as much as I love cookies, I do not actually aspire to become a cookie. And so I resolved not to take the crumb.

But oh, it was so hard! I said to myself,

and then I reached for the crumb anyway.

I tried a Jedi mind trick on myself,

but my midi-chlorian count is probably in the negatives, and it turns out I'm not weak-minded by any means when it comes to wanting food.

I just couldn't do it. I couldn't resist. I reached for the crumb again and picked it up -

- and then I remembered this story about cookies from Frog and Toad.

If you have never read the Frog and Toad books, I suggest you do so immediately. They are fantastic, and unlike the Teletubbies, they're still comprehensible and funny for people over the age of five.

Anyway, in said story about cookies, Toad bakes some delicious cookies (probably not as good as Insomnia though) and at some point he and Frog decide that they need to stop eating them. So they try putting the cookies in a box, and they try tying the box with string, and they try putting the tied box on a high shelf, but all of this is too easy for them to get to and so they eventually, in an impressive moment that I could never understand as a kid, take the cookies outside and give them away to the birds.

This, dear readers, is a truly inspiring story about willpower.

And so I looked at the cookie crumb that was still between my fingers,

walked out the door,

and gave it to the Incinerator trash can in the hallway, which was probably the wrong trash can, but it sounded the most epic.

And that, my friends, is how I heroically and single-handedly avoided the curse of cookie over-consumption.

The end.

* Probably; I didn't actually do the math because the numbers were too big and I was like, nope nope nope nope nope.

Saturday, August 29, 2015

A Little Birthday Shoutout

Alas, I lack the time for another lengthy post (because school blah), but I just wanted to point out that today happens to be my dear friend Wa Wa's birthday...!

Because I can't be there to celebrate in person, I have decided to conduct a virtual birthday party:

The best part about this virtual party is my ability to make a cake (as opposed to actual life, where I can't make toast). Also, there are no other friends here not because Wa Wa doesn't have friends (she has plenty!) but because I scared them all away. Oops.

So, happy birthday, Wa Wa. I hope today is fabulous and wonderful and that your real and tangible birthday cake is not as bland as this Internet one I have provided you with!

(PS: I was going to sing, but then I decided that nobody's ears are partial to the enthusiastic screeching that is my Happy Birthday serenade. You're welcome.)

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Back to Shoes, Staircases, & Speed-Walking

I decided to start a blog because I like to talk about myself, but already this has proved much more difficult than I expected. Earlier today I was happily typing away about my terribly unoriginal life (on my phone, of course, because technology) when I decided to turn my phone to sleep mode and promptly lost everything I'd been writing.

Fortunately for all you bored Internet folk, I have decided to try again. Here we go. Take two.

So today was the first day of school, which made for a handful of small happenings:

I started off the morning by waking up early, because everyone knows that late to bed, early to rise makes a man... sleep deprived? But for real, I just happened to wake up early. By myself. Without an alarm clock. Ten points for Ravenclaw.

(I know I'm supposed to support the actual books over the movie adaptations (and I usually do), but I kind of like the blue/silver combo over the blue/gold. Is that bad?)

Because I play the piano and am occasionally not horrendous at it, I decided I would go to the music center and piano a little (piano is a verb, okay?) before breakfast and class.

Now, let me tell you something. For the past week the music center has been promptly opening at 8:30am every morning, and so one would logically expect that said music center would continue to do so. Well, not quite. Today I went in and was greeted by a) an empty lounge-slash-waiting-room area, b) the absence of the dinky little box of keys (to the practice rooms) that aspiring musicians can sign out, and c) a flimsy piece of paper (actually, it might have been laminated. But it was a flimsy lamination) that said something along the lines of,

Academic hours from Monday-Friday are 9:00am-midnight.

Thanks, music center. Thanks a lot.

Since nine o' clock didn't leave me with enough time to piano, I did the next best thing: listening to music and chatting via technology with my also musically inclined friend, Wa Wa. I also did this in the cafe area outside the library area instead of among my best friends the library shelves. Why? Because on my way in, I noticed this sign:

That's right. Shoes and shirts must be worn in the library at all times.

Okay, shirts? Not a problem. Wearing a shirt is probably a good idea. But under certain circumstances I am an advocate of foot freedom. I mean, who doesn't like wearing socks in the library? You can sock-slide on your way to the shelves! (Okay, the library is carpeted, but still.)

At any rate, the music and friendship part was fun, and pretty soon it was time to eat breakfast, and pretty soon after that it was time for actual school. So I walked to my very first class- except no, I actually speed-walked, because the building of said class turned out to be in the middle of nowhere and I somehow took the most convoluted route ever to get there. Let me tell you something: it turns out you don't have to go to the rec center to get exercise; you just have to pass it four times under a ten-minute time constraint.

I know, I know, this entire narration is a string of complaints. Fortunately for your sanity (and my sake), the rest of my day went pretty smoothly. 


My last class (which was also my third class - yay college), it turns out, was located in the 300s of a building. Now, you can never be sure with the buildings around here - one of them has the first floor marked as the 200s - so as I approached the correct building, I was praying desperately for zero flights of stairs.

Cue enter. Cue room numbers that start with 100.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Two flights isn't a big deal! But no,

these two flights

were the steepest two flights

I've raced up

in a long, long time.

I don't think I got this much exercise since the time my mom signed me up for swim team like five years ago, and even then I just kind of sank in the water after Lap One.

Fortunately, everything after that actually went smoothly. And that pretty much sums up the happenings. 

All in all, it made for a rather good (or interesting, at any rate) first day. And first blog post.