Sophom[over]

I thought this quarter (and this semester, and this year–heck, all of my college life) would go by much more slowly.

As of 3:47 PM, when my Material Worlds: Trade and the Art of Asia class finally concluded our hour of enjoying chilled mung bean and jackfruit soup in the Johnson’s Morgan Japanese Garden, I am officially done with all of my sophomore classes. Forever.

It’s not like high school: the comforting thought of being able to enjoy all this sophomoronic bliss once more (with feeling) is now completely out of reach. Even if I choose to grad school (fingers crossed for those Creative Writing M.F.A. programs!), I’ll remain a “first-year” or some variation thereof for the rest of my academic career as a student.

Of course, it's not like I particularly enjoy the etymological connotations of "sophomore" anyway, so maybe things aren't so bad.

Since I switched schools between my freshman and sophomore years of high school, I never got to really live through that lovely returning-student experience before: instead, I was essentially faced with another “freshman” year as I struggled to understand the new school and its social structures (hey, classes were a breeze compared with that).

Being a real sophomore at Cornell, then, was great for me. I’ve really focused on my interests both academically and extracurricularly, and my fields of study (Art History & English), which seemed so uncertain last year at this time, are now official. (I still don’t know which major I’m going to write my honors thesis in, but it’ll probably be Art History so that I can focus more on my writing than literary analysis. #stuffaboutkeelyslifeyoudontneedtoknow)

Speaking of creative writing, here’s a fun fact for any potential English majors (or, for that matter, any student): beware the inevitable dessert overload of the last week of classes. Like the Very Hungry Caterpillar, I’ve munched my way through a disturbingly large selection of “last-class-ever” treats. Trust me, the mung bean soup was just the beginning.

Except for the sausage, this is a pretty good visual representation of my diet for the past few days.

The last poetry class featured Wegmans shortbread, while peanut-butter-chocolate-chip cookies made a guest appearance yesterday during my Shadowplay seminar (we also watched a relevant part of the most recent Harry Potter flick, but that’s another story). To top it all off, this morning my beloved Narrative Writing professor (who’s retiring!) said she originally intended to bring us cookies, too, but then somehow Ithaca Bakery raspberry-filled cupcakes happened instead.

At 10:30 in the morning.

Fortunately, I have no finals for which to study (instead, I have “only” two 10+ page papers to write) and therefore had sufficient time today to attend not one but two sessions of zumba (that’s one hundred and twenty minutes-ish of crazy dancing, guys!) to burn off all my indulgences.

I’ll miss my sophomore semester a lot, I think–taking two creative writing classes and two art history classes was kind of a dream come true for me, and I’m not sure if it’ll ever happen again (mostly because it’d be awkward if I just kept taking the same 3000-level writing classes, and I can’t jump up to the next level until I’m a senior).

Now, most Cornellians will officially celebrate their freedom from classes tomorrow with wild antics and the disturbing sounds of Taio Cruz. Not me: I’m absolutely terrified of Slope Day. My celebration will probably involve hiding in my room and researching for one of my final papers (about the transmission of dragon iconography along the Silk Road and the Spice Routes, if you must know), eating chocolate (my dear friend surprised me with a massive bag of treats from Manndible Cafe last night when I was in need of it), and taking advantage of my newly fixed printer to make more Buffy-themed posters for my walls–I mean, uh, cleaning my room. Right.

Unbearable: A Handbook on the Use of Costumed Characters

Do you, dear readers, have a beloved memory–perhaps even in photographic form–of yourself atop the lap of jolly ol’ St. Nick or the Easter Bunny at your local mall during the holiday season? Or a Disneyland snapshot in which you and that dude you dated in high school are high-fiving Donald Duck? Personally, I despise costumed characters. Several members of my family suffer from a rare affliction known as malloclausophobia which leaves us shuddering whenever those elves set up camp in front of Jamba Juice.

Cornell, on the other hand, feels differently. Even though our school has no official mascot other than “Big Red,” a terrifying beast known as “Touchdown” seems to think he runs the place.

FYI for all you tap-taker-backers: THIS BEAR is drinking from the same fountain as you are. Kinda makes you want to buy bottled water...

Before this weekend, Touchdown and I got along perfectly well (that is, as well as a anthropomorphized bear wearing a sports jersey and a costume-hating blogger can). However, everything changed when my a cappella group and I decided to attend a concert on Saturday: Hearsay’s delightfully-named Keep Calm and Have a Cupcake. It was a lovely event–instead of the over-played pop songs for which a cappella is famous, Hearsay covered numbers like Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” and (my beloved) Kansas’ “Carry On My Wayward Son,” and, best of all, the intermission featured an array of complimentary spring-themed treats!

During the second half of the performance, however, things became…well, unbearable.

For whatever reason, everyone’s favorite Big Red Ursus arctos made a surprise appearance. I’m not sure if he was even affiliated with Hearsay–since Cornell Minds Matter co-sponsored the event, I suspect they were to blame–but, in any case, during the girls’ final song, Touchdown jumped in with a spontaneous, bear-rear-shakin’ dance number, and let me tell you: I sure was shaking as that monstrous beast grooved his way closer and closer to my seat.

Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe Hearsay went up to Touchdown and personally requested his ursine assistance. See, if they didn’t, though, that bear was one heck of a big red annoyance. Even my friends (who are somewhat less terrified of all things large and furry with eye-holes) admitted that it was hard to concentrate on the music with a giant bear shuffling down by the stage.

Touchdown, let me give you a suggestion. Try to learn something from Lord Voldemort.

Risley Hall’s A Night at Hogwarts features costumed characters by necessity: because the dining event is so popular, people inevitably wait in line for long periods of time and therefore require entertainment. Now, some of the muggles who traded in their Cornell sweatshirts for wizard robes last Friday weren’t particularly committed–I’ve never heard so many middling British accents in one place before–but others were absolutely phenomenal. And by “others,” I mean “Here’s to you, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

The dude may not have a nose, but he still knows what's up!

My sources tell me that this year’s Voldy was actually an alum who returned to campus to reprise his role and, honestly, this guy was one of the most dedicated actors I’ve ever seen: not only was he great at pretending he wanted to destroy Harry Potter but he also knew what was appropriate to do in costume. Whenever little tykes crossed the Dark Lord’s path, Voldy read their moods–he would only be insanely terrifying  if the child seemed ready for it (and, I’ll tell you, some of those mini-Gryffindors really were!)

Touchdown, man, that’s how it’s done. Don’t try to steal the thunder of an event that’s already performing: use your entertainment skills when the audience has nothing else to do. Also, please “bear” in mind my fears the next time you’re running around looking for high-fives. Some of us would rather see you keep your growly distance.