Around the Horn

In my last week as a full-time college student, I’ve wandered around Memory Lane a little too long.  Blame it on the holiday season, where everyone turns into a lovey-dovey nostalgic sap.  I spent all of Black Friday sprawled on a couch watching “Family Man” and “Sleepless in Seattle”; what did you do?

All kidding aside, it hit me oh-so-slightly this past week that I am no longer sheltered from the cold blasts of the real world.  On the bright side, I won’t have to write any more papers or stress out about prelims and exams.  On the darker side…it’s just me now.  As a fully-autonomous adult, I won’t really have an excuse to party late into Thursday night and get away with having $45.07 in my checking account.

Most of all, I won’t stop hearing the dreaded “so how’s your love life?” question.  Yes, even after 21 years, I have yet to claim that I’ve been in a solid relationship.  After evaluating my lifetime drought, I can attribute my chronic singledom to the educational environment.  No, I’m not talking about my parents, as they were the most lax parents in high school (”Just try your best, honey” was all the encouragement I needed).  It’s the pressure to fend for yourself, to work towards a successful career.  In college, I really had no desire to settle down with anyone.  I’m an independent woman blazing my own trail; if you don’t like it, move on, because I won’t wait or change…I think this go-get-em’-ness has scared guys away.  I’m blunt, but I don’t fawn over guys.  I’ll be successful in my own right, and I don’t want to be anyone’s sugarmama.  However, I’m realizing more and more that companionship is important.  While I can support myself just fine, dinner is never fun when you’re eating alone.

Me: “I’m just having fears of a single me at 45 living on the Upper West Side with 20 cats that I’m allergic to.  That’s got to be the worst case scenario…right?”
My gay husband: “Yea but Upper West Side…I wouldn’t mind that.”
Me: “Shut up, you’re not helping.”

After my idyllic winter training trip in Orlando, I headed back up to snowy Ithaca without skipping a beat. My bunch of rowers and I needed to come back to the Hill for rush. Rush at Cornell takes place the week before Spring semester classes. Girls visit every sorority and as the week progresses, potential new members and sororities continue to narrow their preferences. It’s a mutual selection process, but it requires new members to talk to sisters, a back-and-forth-getting-to-know-you sort of deal. However, when you’re talking to a girl for a couple of minutes, how much of a lasting impression can someone make? So, while personality and conversation content weighs heavily into selecting houses and sisters, there inevitably is some superficiality to the process.

I’m not bashing the Greek System in any way. I absolutely love my sorority and think that the Greek System is something worth participating in during college–I wouldn’t be the president of KD if I didn’t believe in it. But, first impressions are everything, so all of us just suck it up, strap on a pair of high heels, put on a happy face, and schmooze. Getting to know ladies is refreshing, and I love meeting new girls and finding ones that might be potential sisters in the near future.

Yet, there are consequences to everything. My voice is now gone thanks to the daily screaming and cheering during rounds. I have Barbiedoll-itis: my jaws hurt from laughing and talking and smiling, and my heels KILL from busting out my many pairs of stiletto pumps. I think of rush as a courting process. Peacocks’ colorful feathers don’t last forever. Our house cleans up nicely, but I know I don’t wear heels everyday, especially hiking up hills and trekking through the snowy campus.

There is also such a thing as overexposure to estrogen. Last night, my friend Sam relented that she flirted with a freshman just so she could be close to a Y-chromosome. I never really noticed it during the week, but when I finally talked to my friend Kenny two nights ago, I couldn’t help but break out a sigh of relief. I can’t really pinpoint my exact feelings: I wasn’t glad to see Kenny because I was into my boy-crazy ways again, I was just genuinely excited to talk to someone with a Y-chromosome. It felt so good to talk to someone about non-sorority-related topics, and drop the girl schmoozing and not care about hair and makeup.

Rush is over now, I cannot wait to meet our new members, resume classes on Monday and have equal exposure to the male and female species.

New Year’s at home is never complete without a morning trip to Colorado Boulevard to watch the Rose Parade, an afternoon of watching the Rose Bowl Game (USC killed Illinois), and a few New Year’s resolutions. Of course, there is always the disclaimer that many of these resolutions will fizzle out by mid-February.

1. Burn off some blubber. While Operation Tighten is ongoing throughout the school year, there are just too many temptations/craving at home. I guess this would rule out See’s candies, gobs of peanut butter, donuts, In-N-Out, among others. So, Operation Tighten shall resume January 4, when I leave SoCal for Low-Cal training. The biggest enemy for Operation Tighten is my lazy-college-student diet, also known as Taste of Thai, Sindbad’s, and Maxie’s.

2. Try to stay in touch with friends who are abroad. Some of my closest friends are going across the pond for a semester, and both parties will definitely be wrapped up in their own everyday doings. The best tool for staying in touch will be Skype, or any other online chatting program (gchat is AMAZING).

3. Boycott boys. Though playing the “game” is fun, missing ANTM marathons for guys just ain’t worth it. And, my wandering eye has earned me a boy-crazy reputation among my roommates: good or bad? Either way, less boys=less talk about boys=not boy crazy. It’ll be interesting to see how this resolution pans out because I tend to meet these boys in class. And, who rejects an offer to work on a problem set together?

4. Get a job.
5. Stay as zen as possible. Lots of things lined up for the semester: rowing lineups, sorority duties, classes, job interviews, Ithacation. Essentially, a recipe for personal implosion. Hopefully some of the yoga moves I picked up this break can promote an easy-going lifestyle among the madness.

6. Finish Monday crosswords in under 10 minutes (it’s been done before) and complete more than one Friday New York Times Crossword. Wil Shortz, you’re on.

Formal was on Saturday, and while it was fun, Operation: Find-a-Date was an ordeal in itself. Conclusion: my guy game is twice-rejected, outlook grim. My ego is rather bruised after asking two guys to formal and ending up dateless both times. Well, I wasn’t exactly rejected, but guys at Cornell seem to have much busier schedules than I do, and formal would have conflicted with their full agendas. By the time Invitee #2 bailed out on me for a hockey game (I know, right? I can’t compete with the Lynah Faithful.), I was ready to give up on formal altogether.

I ran into my friend Garrison the weekend before formal. Things have a strange way of working out because while Garrison had always been a potential date, I was chicken to ask because before last weekend, I hadn’t seen the guy in a month. He agreed to come to formal, and I am so glad he did. Garrison was the best date I’ve ever brought to one of these shindigs; talkative, funny, and a decent dancer. Not to mention that the guy cleans up very well in a suit and is rather cute. Fine, really cute.

I think I have a case of Post-Formal Crush Syndrome. Symptoms include holding onto the memories of dancing the night away and the feelings of one-night-only exclusiveness. Formals are a breeding ground for crushes, since everything revolves around you and your date. What I’m confused about is why my mind keeps hanging onto Saturday. I know that Garrison is not thinking twice about formal, that it was just a fun night with a female friend. I know that I’m probably just being a movie sap and wishing that I could reenact a hot kissing scene a la the Notebook (P.S. I didn’t like that movie, but you have to admit, those make out sessions make your heart melt.) However, my case of PFCS is probably giving Garrison the wrong idea.

The thing is, as much as I may enjoy the thought of having a significant other, I have no desire to commit to anything, not just because I’m a commitment-phobe, but because I just don’t have time or the energy to keep a relationship going. Plus, it’s college, why tie yourself down when there are plenty of other fish out there? Still, the hard part of my college relationship experience (or lack thereof) is finding a guy that you would want to spend more time with, and having said guy reciprocate. So when you actually find one, you don’t want to pass him up. But, what’s harder is accepting that in most cases, these cool guys are just like you–they “just want to be friends.” The only difference is that girls have very swoon-able hearts, thus are more likely to fall into the relationship trap, while guys run away from anything that has clinging potential.

So to the guys: Relax. Not all girls have tunnel vision towards settling down. And don’t freak out about PFCS, it’s the result of a random burst of chick-flick-sappiness. In the end, movie make-out sessions don’t mean anything unless you enjoy each other’s company first. And to Garrison: Let’s spoon!

Homecoming! The pessimist could say that this is the one day out of the year when 1,000 Cornellians (instead of 200) follow the Big Red in football. However, Homecoming brings about a whole other circle of Cornellians: the alumni. This is the weekend where the younger and young-at-heart alumni make the trek up to the Hill to reunite with friends, grill some burgers and hotdogs, and reminisce about the good ol’ days.

Saturday morning brought on skits and some racing. All the crews were out in full force vying for the prized Schwartz Cup. So, while the junior boat didn’t do so hot in the actual race, we won the “best costume” Schwartz Cup, which Cathleen now has proudly displayed on her bookshelf. Cathleen was integral in coming up with the junior skit’s theme: Beauty and the Beast. However, the best part was seeing all the alumni come back, including Alexa, the women’s captain from two years ago and also my big-big-big sister in my sorority. The 1989 National Championship boat also came too, and I woke up early Sunday morning just to watch the ladies go out for a short row on Cayuga.

Come night time, I had another pleasant reunion…this time being Cooper, my quasi-interest from last semester. Before the ladies were ready to head out for a night on the town, Cooper texted that he had flown in for Homecoming and was hanging out in Collegetown with his friends. My heart definitely skipped a beat, but then sank knowing that he would probably be at the bars (no, he would be) and I had lots of other get-togethers to stop by. Finally, after 1 am (the bars closed then), Cooper asked my whereabouts. After we played catch up, Cooper had to peace and fly back to NYC. At 3:30 am. So, it was a few short hours, but hanging out with Cooper was great. We just picked up where we left off back in May (holy maleezus, 5 months ago?!). Felt pretty darn good to see a close friend.

I’m heading off to Boston this weekend for the Head of the Charles.  Yikes!  It should be fun.

I have always been that girl in the group who is chronically single, who has yet to solidify any sort of boy-girl relationship. Didn’t have that luck in high school, still don’t have the game in college either. Maybe I’m too abrasive, too independent, but it seems that I have a boy repellent of some sort, always managing to mess up any prospect of a boy-meets-girl-boy-dates-girl type of scenario. Heck, my younger brother Robert has had more relationships than I have, and he’s still in high school.

Well, the winds may have shifted somewhat because I actually met a great guy at the beginning of this semester. The unfortunate catch (there always is one): He’s graduating next week. The Boy knows about the blog but doesn’t know that I’m mentioning him, so I’ll call him Cooper. We went out to dinner a couple of times, enjoyed each other’s company, exchanged witty banter. Cooper is very chivalrous, funny, rather charming, really. However, it became very obvious during the semester that we are in two VERY different stages of our lives; While I was in bed by 11 for 6:30 am practice, Cooper would be at the bars, celebrating his last few weeks as a college student and letting me know via middle-of-the-night text messages. Both of us come from very similar backgrounds, so we interact very well; he’s one of the few guys who can counter my loud and obnoxious self and tackle my talkative girlfriends as well (really, props to him on that). Because neither of us were looking for a relationship, we solidified a friendship, with some harmless snuggle time dashed in.

The topic of boys and their “girl game” came up in our last in-person conversation:

J: Cooper, you know you don’t have any game with the ladies.
C: I know, I need to work on that.
(more conversation)
J: What are your parents like, just out of curiosity?
C: Well, I would say that kids are a good reflection of their parents.
J: So what, they’re really cool and hip?
C: No, my dad is really bad at picking up girls, and my mom is really bad at picking up guys. Runs in the family.
(more conversation, Cooper stops at my door)
C: Hey Jen, so we have to keep in touch. Don’t be a stranger, alright?
J: I know, I know. I’ll call.
C: (walking to his car) And the next time we see each other, I’ll be better [with the ladies] by then, I promise!
J: (chuckle and roll eyes) I’ll see you later!

What a punk. So now what? I don’t know, I guess I’ll have to call.

AGH I am so into the new Maroon 5 song “Makes Me Wonder”. This song is just so darn catchy. Check out the video here. Finally, something new from Maroon 5.

Yes, I am three semesters late, but I finally went to my first Cornell Hockey game EVER on Friday. Our Big Red faced off against Quinnipiac in the ECACHL Quarterfinals in a best-of-3 series. I went with my just-revealed little, Annie, which worked out perfectly because she is a Cornell Hockey fanatic, one of many who refer to him/herself as the “Lynah Faithful”. For more information, see Alex’s blog.

Many of the talented players on the team are Canadians; hockey is more of a religion up north than it is in the States. So, when people find out that I was born in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, they are shocked to find out that I don’t know too much about hockey. It’s not my fault that I’ve been in California for 6 years now (what is ice?)…but hey, at least I do know how to iceskate. In fact, in true Canadian fashion, I can attest that my parents strapped iceskates onto my feet in a timely matter, right around when I was 5.

Why I bring up Canadians now is because this week has been my “Byron Bitz” week, who also happens to be from Saskatchewan. If you read my previous entry about Big/Little Week, the “hockey player” I am referencing to is Byron Bitz, the captain of the hockey team. And, from this point forward, Byron Bitz shall be referred to as Sir Byron. Sorry to my little beforehand, but one person that Annie was itching to meet at Cornell was Sir Byron, as any other die-hard Lynah Faithful member would. After rolodexing through many connections, I finally got in contact with Sir Byron, who agreed to meet my little and drop off a gift for her during lunch on Tuesday. I might add that Sir Byron is very tall, friendly, and kind–he has a very big silent presence. Thumbs up traits for a hockey captain. Double thumbs up for leaving Annie speechless and in awe after meeting her. I didn’t realize how big of a deal this guy is until I went to the game on Friday and heard the crowd cheering for Bitz.

Speaking of cheers, the crowds are VERY coordinated in their cheers. And very brutal. I guess that’s what you can call having home ice advantage. Lynah Rink is known to be one of the toughest arenas to skate in because of the belligerent Lynah Faithful. The Faithful like to call the opponent’s goalie a “sieve.” I mean, come on, if you were to pick any kitchen utensil to be, you probably wouldn’t be dying to be a sieve. Unfortunately, the Big Red lost in overtime to Quinnipiac, 0-1, so I never got to hear the “It’s all your fault” taunt in the crowds. However, I will try my best to attend more games in the future, just because the energy in Lynah is electric when the stands are completely full of Big Red power.

Sorry for my lack of posts, I barely had enough hours in the day this past week, let alone a good chunk of time to sit down and blog. Why, you ask?

Three words: Big/Little Week.

So, what exactly is Big/Little Week? Each sorority house on campus has many members in different pledge classes. As the new member period progresses, sisters in the house get to know the new members on a more personal level; relationships blossom, inside jokes form, a good time is had by all. Ideally, each member in the house is a descendant of the original founders of our chapter through lineages. These lineages are created through these special Big/Little Sister bonds. Big/Little relationships are supposed to be the closest bond of “sisterhood” you have in the house. Now, Big/Little Week is the period where the Little sisters, the newest additions to the house, get showered with an exorbitant amount of gifts and affection. However, these lucky Littles don’t actually know who their Bigs are.

For this past week, I’ve been incognito with emailing my Little, sending emissaries to deliver her gifts, planning events for her to attend. A sampling of some of my Little’s events? Cute boys delivering her gifts x5, a run-in with her hockey crush, a meet-up with basketball players, more gifts, cute boys reading bedtime stories, a birthday party, a bowling event, and all sorts of other goodies. It’s good to be a Little.

We finally revealed on Friday. Here is our lineage, from left to right: Annie (my little), Laura (my big’s big), Patricia (my big), and yours truly!

While surfing Facebook as usual, I came across an interesting group: Asian Boys Need Love Too. I chuckled a bit because the group picture was pretty amusing (Asian “Nerd” shying away from any kind of womanly affection), but then my thoughts shifted to why this group hit so close to home. No, I’m not an Asian guy, but I can definitely empathize with why these boys feel like they need more love. To be honest, it’s not easy being Asian in the West; there is a lot going against an Asian guy who’s just trying to grow up and be like everyone else. I had an engaging discussion about this with an Asian guy friend of mine.

For the record, I have nothing against Asian guys. What I’m writing below reflects my experiences with Asian stereotypes. To but it bluntly, I blame it on society. Look at high school/college. Asian guys are rarely ever the star quarterback, but rather the bowl-cut/glasses supermathwhiz equivalent. Non-Asian guys are the alpha males in college. I’ll admit, this is not as applicable nowadays, as my high school had an Asian quarterback. Either way, society has cornered the Asian race into these particular stereotypes capitalizing on the “exoticness” of Asian culture. The thing that breaks my heart is seeing that these guys aren’t doing anything about this; in fact, many Asians capitalize on the stereotype and try to add a rebellious skew to it. Hey, you rebel because you’re tough, and tougher=more manly, right? Sure…but that’s like saying bigger is always better. There’s a point where capitalizing on one’s Asian-ness turns into something campy, creating another type of “azn” to stereotype.

Another big outlet? Movies. Love James Bond and Indiana Jones, but why don’t you see any Asian swashbuckling heroes (Bruce Lee/Jackie Chan don’t really count. Asians can do more than karate.)? Instead, you have dimunuitive stereotypes, accents and all. Or Mr. Miyagi, but he was more of a grandfather figure if anything. As a result, you don’t see too many non-Asians going for Asian guys because they do not fit the mold that society classifies as masculine. And for a girl, masculine=attractive.

Before I keep sympathizing with the Asian men, I must say this: Just because society has constraints and different expectations doesn’t mean an Asian guy can’t be confident in his own shoes. They are the only ones who can break this stereotype; society’s image is not permanent. Don’t mope, be assertive. Ask that girl out on a date. Confidence is so much more attractive than passiveness.

I realize that I can potentially get a lot of flak for this entry, but I’m being honest. I’m not saying that every Asian guy is like this. I am sure there are plenty of Asian guys who have already stepped up to the plate and are confident and comfortable in their own skin. I guess I’m just wondering where they all are. So, to all my Asian guys, stand up tall and be proud of who you are. A little confidence can go a long way. Now the next step is trying to get rid of that Facebook group.