Posts tagged risley
An Apple Red As…Big Red: “Once Upon A Time” Starring Cornell University
Oct 14th
Don’t judge me.
I know that a cheesy show based off not just fairy tales but the Disney interpretations of said stories seems cringe-worthy. Yet even with all the painful repetition (eat some chocolate every time you hear “I will ALWAYS find you” and you’ll be stuffed long before the season finale) and horrific acting, there’s something extremely addictive about it. As is the case with all of my obsessions, I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about the inner fairy-tale personalities of certain Cornell icons.
If you’re not among us lucky Once watchers, allow me to provide you with a brief plot summary. Jaded bail bondswoman Emma Swan is tugged into a web of wonder, intrigue, and, again, terrible acting by her (somewhat insufferable) newfound son Henry. The boy lives in Storybrooke, a town where residents never leave, time never passes, and, in fact, Henry is apparently the only person who can actually age (and yet somehow he’s progressed through six years of public school without anyone being befuddled by his growth?).
Oh, wait, surprise! All of Storybrooke’s inhabitants are actually fairy tale characters, pulled from their world by “Regina Mills,” the Evil Queen who now serves as the despotic mayor of the town and is Henry’s adopted mother.
And speaking of our charming antagonist, I’d argue that…
Regina Mills/The Queen = A Certain “Community Center Connection” Email Goddess
“I’m not evil! I just wanted to make sure that everyone knows about the free apple cider at Procrastinate at the Straight tonight!”
All Cornellians with email addresses (and, perhaps, ineffective spam filters) should be familiar with the Community Center Connection newsletters sent out on a biweekly basis. Meeting Denice Cassaro, the events-organizing wizard behind these missives, is even included as one of the famed “161 Things To Do At Cornell.”
Regina is obviously heaps wickeder than Ms. Cassaro (who I’m sure is lovely in person!) but the two both possess close knowledge of everything going on in their respective domains. And, now that Season 2 is revealing more of the supposedly evil queen’s past, I think she’s on her way to redemption. Maybe we’ll next see Regina sending out community newsletters instead of attacking random bystanders with dark magic!
Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin = The Risley Listserve (a.k.a. the “squid,” or the “squidserv”)
Actually, Rumplestiltkin is a pretty good representation of Risley in general.
Okay, I know I’ve already beaten the “Once Upon A Time actors don’t know how to act” thing to death, but I have to admit that Robert Carlyle, who plays the delightful Mr. Gold/Rumplestiltskin, is one of the most talented performers ever to grace my laptop screen. This guy runs the gamut from broody and sensitive to absolutely flamboyant in seconds. Rumplestiltskin himself is well known for his penchant for making deals that often end badly for his bargain partners.
Risley has a pair of listserves: one for important business matters, and the other for…whatever. As Rumple does so well, the “Squid” (named so because of Risley’s traditional association with such cephalopods) is constantly tempting Risleyites to accept its many offers (“Free cupcakes in the kitchen, dearie!” it wheedles just after you finished eating one too many cookies for dessert). It can also be found pushing for a Star Trek watching party on a night when you already have homework, or reminding you of in-house (or campus-wide) events that are way cooler than studying for that prelim.
(The tables do turn, on occasion, when somebody in the building needs lemon juice or a Viking helmet–then you become the deal-maker!)
The Stranger/August W. Booth/Pinocchio = Alumni Donors
“My nose would grow for sure if I said I’d forgotten Cornell after all these years!”
Sometime after [spoiler alert!] Emma’s love interest gets killed off (or does he?) in Season 1, a new hunk of manly romantic heroism rolls into town–and, as it turns out, he’s more a hunk in the “carved hunk of wood” sense. Yet even though it’s not immediately clear who this “stranger” is (at least, to the characters on the show), it’s obvious that he’s somehow well acquainted with the details of Emma’s history.
Anyone else who has the joy of being eligible for financial aid may have experienced sponsorship by various alumni donors. Like Booth, they come into our metaphorical Storybrookes unexpectedly. While I only know them by a bizarre company epithet, these mysterious benefactors, on the other hand, seem to know an awful lot about me. And, like Emma, though I remain mystified by such donors, I’m ultimately grateful for their assistance (as long as they don’t start mysteriously transforming into wooden puppets!).
Ruby/Red Riding Hood = Touchdown the Big Red Bear
I personally feel that the hood is a great upgrade from the jersey, but Touchdown might have other ideas.
I was recently able to put my fear of Touchdown to good use while playing Antigonus in The Winter’s Tale (guest-starring the Big Red Bear himself), and, during the production, I got a behind-the-scenes look at the ursine transformation frequently undertaken by a select group of volunteer Cornellians.
In a shocking (spoiler: not actually) Once flashback scene, Red Riding Hood is revealed to be the very werewolf who torments her small village. However, because she retains no memory of her time as a ferocious beast, Red remains a normal girl by day. Similarly, Touchdown only comes to life when a skilled student decides to complete the mascot metamorphosis: and you’d never guess that these otherwise ordinary people can secretly wave around those fluffy hands like Jim Henson making Kermit applaud.
Sidney Glass/The Magic Mirror (& the Storybrooke Daily Mirror) – The Daily Sun
No further description necessary.
As it turns out, the human incarnation of the Magic Mirror publishes a tabloid in the “real” world. I think the rest is self-explanatory.
(Oh, come on. Like I was just going to let this one pass by!)
An Open Letter to the Universe (or, Fire Alarms–Can’t Live With/out Them)
Sep 9th
Dear Universe (/Magical Guardian Spirits/Assorted Energies/Powers That Be),
I thought we had this communication thing worked out.
Remember Tuesday evening? When I was just about to tuck myself into bed before I suddenly had the strangest feeling that I should put a pair of shoes next to my bed in case the fire alarm happened to go off? Five hours later, I was rudely tugged from some REM sleep by a wailing siren–but wait! My sandals were right there for my use! High five, Universe!
“Yes, go big! Also, while you’re at it, maybe you should change into sweatpants so all of Risley doesn’t see your Hello Kitty pajama shorts in the event of an emergency. Just a thought.” — Universe (Image from here.)
Naturally, I thought we were on pretty good terms after that. Was that wrong of me? I kind of expected at least some sort of minor cosmic message concerning this week’s second fire alarm (which, in case you weren’t aware, occurred about an hour ago).
I was in the middle of debugging some Python code, you know: and although I admit that I wished, for a second, that I were doing something else, I was imagining an activity more along the lines of arranging music or watching Market Warriors. Not standing outside in the surprisingly-chilly September air with a group of PJ-clad peers.
While I suppose I could have chosen to remain in my room, don’t give me that “free will” nonsense: issues of actual fire safety aside, I’d be in big trouble once the officers checking the building found me hidin’ out.
The good news about all this madness? At least I know the fire alarms work. A little annoyance is worth saving lives. Still, Universe, how many times do you have to prove your point? And when will these silly kids learn not to burn popcorn/leave the kettle on near the fire alarm itself/keep their dragon hatchlings outside in the courtyard at night?
(Sassy letters, baby dragons & Avatar: The Last Airbender memes aside, you can learn more about Cornell’s history with fires (and the apparent recurring theme of ‘intentional’ fires caused by ‘burning paper on the front of the door’) by reading through the 2012 Fire Safety Report. CUPD also has some helpful fire safety suggestions. And if the universe doesn’t tend to send you magical warnings about impending building evacuations, consider getting into the habit of leaving footwear, a warm coat, and your purse/wallet/keys at your bedside–especially in the cold winter months!)
In it for the Long Hall
Aug 31st
With the exception of the much-desired West Campus, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve experienced most normal Cornell housing situations during my time here. I spent my freshman year crammed into a Balch “forced double” (thank goodness my roommate and I got along!) with bunk-beds, a shared closet, and approximately zero square feet of floor space. Things got better during my sophomore year, though. If it weren’t for the fact that my room last year was right above the theatre (try falling asleep the night before a big paper’s due when the cast of Spring Awakening is belting out a lovely assortment of expletives (indicated in the script and otherwise)), I would’ve been a Risley 110 girl for life.
When I applied for housing in the spring, I made an effort to move off of the first floor, and successfully nabbed a room hidden up in the top of the “castle.” And, as I mentioned last week, this nook has a few quirky qualities. There’s the slanted ceilings, and the small turret window…and it kinda looks like a bowling alley.
Let’s start from the beginning on our little tour, though, shall we?
Nothing says ‘home,’ like, you know, Gollum’s face on your door.
Each Risley room is equipped with a unique, customized door sign. Usually, these works of art–created by the student “RisOCs”–feature some bizarre, bawdy juxtaposition of pictures of grannies or bagels with headlines stolen from Cosmopolitan, so I was very pleased to receive precious(sss) Smeagol instead.
Half of my room…
…and the other half.
Horizontally lengthy room? No problem! The odd layout of this space allows it to function as a kind of two-room apartment studio: one part contains my bedroom, while the other–furnished with those lovely chairs and the (rented) minifridge)–serves as a relaxing/entertaining/living area.
My desk fits perfectly into the small corner right in the center of the room, making it super easy for me to stalk the passerby–I mean, look out the window.
Because I don’t have a dining table (yet), my desk provides a surface for eating. (Okay, really, that’s not particularly relevant–I just wanted to show off how nice those nectarines and sliced avocado look!)
I do have a bit of a butterfly infestation, though…
…not to mention the wiener dogs.
In addition to adjusting to my long hall of a room, of course, I also have to get used to living in a co-ed dorm with CO-ED BATHROOMS (the part of the first floor where I lived last year was single-sex). Things have been better than I anticipated, surely, but I’ve also encountered a few traumatizing–I mean, annoying situations. Stay tuned for fun-filled blog posts* such as:
- Keely Shakes Her Fist Ragefully At The Dude Who Routinely Leaves The Toilet Seat Up!
- Keely Does Not Appreciate Her Bathroom Area Smelling Like Axe!
- Keely Spent Fifteen Minutes in the Laundry Room Trying to Put All Her Underthings at the Bottom of the Basket So Nobody Would See Them as She Walked Back Upstairs But on Her Way She Ran Into This Dude Wearing the Cotton Equivalent of a Speedo While Getting Poptarts from the Vending Machine!
*Note: For the sake of your sanity and mine, readers, these posts will never actually be written. But they remain in my heart.
Movin’ Out
May 15th
Ever since I turned in approximately 30 pages of written work (divided into two essays, I should add) about various themes in Asian art, things have been pretty leisurely for me. Instead of racing my way through a pitiful breakfast at Appel while editing an essay, I’ve been waking up early to dine on homemade smoothies and toast with peanut butter. My dreams are no longer filled with the disapproving voices of every scholarly source I cited in my bibliography, and…
...my shelves are lined with pleasure reading instead of dusty tomes about dragon iconography in material culture.
Provided I didn’t somehow totally fail my papers, of course, I’d say that I now officially qualify as a junior, or will once these 2012-ers move on so the rest of us can move up.
As much as I’d love to lose myself in the luxurious life of writing short stories, waiting for Spike to get resurrected on Angel, and reading as many novels by Pulitzer winners/nominees as I can get my hands on (recommendation of the week: Karen Russell’s anthology St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves), I have to take care of a few less academic sundries before I head back to my island home. Yes, I’m talking about every college student’s favorite task of the year: moving out.
I didn’t really mean that “favorite task” comment sarcastically, you know: I actually think that packing up would be fun for folks who live close by. Think about it–after a week of grueling exams and essays, your parents suddenly appear like Gandalf the White to pile the contents of your veritable Ariel’s Grotto of a room into the family car, and you all ride off into the sunset. (If you’re an East Coaster who’s experienced otherwise, please, don’t disrupt my rose-colored vision.)
Like a lonely Frodo, however, I must corral the detritus with which I’m currently co-habitating all by myself. And trust me, as much as I’m basically an expert on Buddhist art at this point, I’m no ascetic. I have tons of stuff. In order to complete my sophomore year, I have to transform this…
…into the original empty single I found waiting for me last August.
Because my family’s too far away to drive the getaway car, I’m also forced to explore the wonderful world of college storing. Although there are ten billion—I mean, several companies that provide shipping and storage services at Cornell, we happened to select the one that sends its boxes to you in a giant…well, box.
Now, I'm all for equal treatment, but I would've been perfectly happy if any guy (or girl!) had offered to help me carry these dudes down from Appel.
Oh, but it gets better! After you’ve lugged your Russian-nesting-doll-esque box of boxes from the postal office nearest to you, there’s more work to be done. Boxes just can’t be mailed in their natural form, you know. You must, as the Avengers would say, er, ASSEMBLE.
Oh boy, a congratulatory box-flap label! I feel so much better about my decision to pick this company now! (But actually.)
Of course, if you're a silly kid-at-heart, boxes can provide hours of entertainment. (Fun fact--it took a few minutes for this Ivy League student to figure out how to climb back out of it.)
All my toil was, however, rewarded in the end. Check out this beautiful container! Exceptional box indeed, am I right?
Obviously I should switch colleges and get my Bachelor's in Cardboard Engineering.
Tune in next week (i.e. Thursday) to find out what happens when the burly folks from the storage company come to take all of my worldly possessions away from me!
Everybody’s Lookin’ Forward to the Geekend
Apr 30th
To clarify, my title isn’t supposed to have a double meaning: the compound “geekend” does not, in fact, refer to the time when geeks and nerds no longer rule this Earth. Rather, it describes this past Friday, when <3′s celebration of nerdiness (in other words, our concert) temporarily took over part of Risley (and my life–that’s why it’s been a bit since I posted).
If you asked a guidance counselor to describe college in a word or two, he or she would probably say something about academics, while I’ll bet the media would make a snarky comment about binge drinking. In my opinion, college is, on the most trivial level, defined by bubble tea and a cappella music.
Though I’m a big fan of those chunky straws myself, I’ll personally never understand the bubble tea obsession here at Big Red. I do, however, have a few theories about why collegiate a cappella is such a big deal. The popularity of TV’s Glee certainly hasn’t hurt the popularity of covering songs and dancing around onstage, but this trend was alive and kicking way before a bunch of middling auto-tuned performers started rehashing pop hits on Fox.
Hey, I think we can still dance better than the guy who plays Finn Hudson.
Honestly, I think a cappella’s appeal among the 20-ish set is based mostly on recognition. It’s always awkward when you go to a concert and your favorite band plays some silly song that you’ve never heard before (I’m looking at you, Jonathan Coulton!). What could be better, then, than attending a performance where it’s almost guaranteed that you’re at least somewhat familiar with all the selections ? Plus, you get to see that reserved dude from your bio class and that chick you always see drinking lattes at Libe Cafe belting out the power chords instead of Adele or Bruno Mars.
Now, <3 never tries to emulate any of the current Top 40 superstars, but we’re still fundamentally aiming for recognition, too. It’s delightful when we do more obscure things, of course, (e.g. one of our staples, the YouTube classic “They’re Taking the Hobbits to Isengard,” certainly wasn’t played on any radio recently), but our best performances occur when people get what we’re doing.
And, based on the huge number of fans who stormed the doors of Risley Hall like orcs attacking Helm’s Deep to see our show, Cornellians do understand us. By the time the girls and I took the stage, we had a line of folks standing in the back because all of the seats were taken!
One final note before this post just turns into a pointless rant of <3 love: our concert would have never been such a success without the support of our advisor. While it’s true that no advisor is required to play a particularly active role in his or her organization’s activities, I was surprised by our faculty ally’s enthusiasm.
When our advisor and his wife attended our dress rehearsal, they were cheerful, kind, and full of great suggestions for last-minute improvements. (They also proudly mentioned their love for Joss Whedon’s work, and even recognized the picture of Buffy the Vampire Slayer‘s Spike that I currently have as my desktop wallpaper, so, you know, that helped too). I’ve never met professors at Cornell–or anywhere–more actively interested in their students’ lives!
And he was willing to hold our mascot, a unicorn named Edward Gorey! How awesome!
This coming Saturday represents another special milestone for <3 as well. We’re having our first real open auditions! Though I’ve attended billions (that’s a very precise number, I’ll have you know) of auditions in my life, I haven’t ever been on the decision-making side (except when I directed and wrote a dorky musical in tenth grade, but we won’t talk about that). Incidentally, if you’re coming here next year as a freshman and want to try out in the fall, send me an email!
Cornell Daze (or, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Prefrosh Visits)
Apr 12th
Dear Cornell Class of 2016,
Let me start off by mentioning that I am not actually going to call you by the dorky moniker that is “pre-frosh.” Same goes for “prospies.” In fact, considering that I’ve spent some of my free time recently finishing up Season 7 of Buffy, I think “potentials” will suffice.
Anyway, unless you’re too busy saving the world, I’m assuming some of you potentials will find yourselves on the road to Ithaca over the next two weeks. And, although I never attended Cornell Days myself (living in the middle of the Pacific can do that to you), I’m going to share some good ol’ upperclassman wisdom.
In short, then, here are some suggestions for Cornell Days that you won’t find in your “Welcome to Cornell” packet. Allons-y!
1. Attend a museum tour! (i.e. my museum tour.)
Looking to meet a hot college guy during Cornell Days? Mr. Kwaikiutl Sun Mask here wanted me to let you know that he is both totally interested and available.
It’s hard to find a single post on here that’s not a shameless plug for my own activities, and this one’s no different. If you’ve checked the Cornell Days schedule, you might have noticed that there are tours of the Johnson offered both weekends (fun fact: attend the one next week, and odds are you’ll get me as your guide!)
However, at 1PM this coming Saturday, I’m giving a very special “Off-the-Label” tour called “Performance” Art: The Drama of Objects. We’ll start in the Shadowlands exhibit I helped to curate and then move on to other “theatrical” objects in the collection. Come on, guys, I really need an audience: because Cornellians tend to forget that we have this awesome on-campus museum, my previous tours were attended only by my BFFs and random foreign families who happened to be there at the right time. That said, bring your parents, bring your siblings–heck, bring your nemeses too (though keep in mind that no epic nemesis battles are allowed in the museum)!
2. Finish your Cornell Days with Hogwarts Nights.
Unpopular opinion: I’m not a Harry Potter fan. Since I’ve been a hipster since the day I was born, I didn’t really see why that “mainstream” book series had such appeal over other equally entertaining juvenile fantasy novels (e.g. Charlie Bone, Susan Cooper’s stuff, etc). The fact, then, that I’m participating in both of Risley Hall’s Night at Hogwarts events, says something about the quality of these shindigs.
If you’re coming with your parents and want a family-friendly activity, you might want to check out the original A Night at Hogwarts dinner: join us at the Castle and interact with costumed character impersonators (I’m playing Harry’s mum, incidentally) while enjoying an authentically British feast! Keep in mind, though, that this event is extremely popular, and it’s hard to get tickets at the door. Still, even if you can’t swing an invite, walk by Risley’s front lawn sometime from 5-7 on Friday and you might see some magic anyway!
The bolder and more dance-party-inclined should consider the Yule Ball, which will take place at Risley from 9pm on Saturday and feature a special guest performance by Harry and the Potters as well as everyone’s favorite nerdy a cappella group! (Okay, so I guess that means that this is yet another shameless plug for something in which I’m involved. Dang.)
3. Be like Anna from The King and I…
…which is to say, don’t make snap judgments. “Getting To Know You” is more than one of my favorite Rodgers & Hammerstein tunes–it’s also a useful philosophy for college visits.
Your Cornell Days don't have to be the most thrilling, action-packed time of your life: it's just important that you get to know the school and whether or not it's "precisely your cup of te(eeee)a!"
Also, don’t dismiss the entire student body because of that one annoying/disturbing/ignorant person you happen to meet. When I visited Yale, for example, our host bragged about how Yale had recently been visited by a famous bug scientist, a man whom she called “the Indiana Jones of endocrinology” by accident. Yeesh. (Actually, come to think of it, this is a terrible example because I’m obviously not at Yale…I think I should probably stop talking now.)
In any case, do enjoy your stay on campus. Hey, I’m looking forward to it too–the dining hall desserts are never quite as good as when the administration wants to impress prospective students.
Nought’s had, all’s spent.
Mar 11th
This is the blog post that shouldn’t be.
I had some fantastic writing lined up for this weekend, I promise! On Saturday, I planned to travel with my dear friend to Seneca Falls in honor of International Women’s Day to view various landmarks of feminist significance. This trip was free, courtesy of Residential Life’s activity programming.
As I double-checked the marigold-colored itinerary, however, I realized that we were scheduled to return at 5PM, and not (as the trip’s Risley sponsor had previously stated) 3:30. Because I already had a 4:30PM commitment (a movie date with my ”little sister”/mentee in the Ithaca Youth Bureau College Discovery Program), I was left with no choice but to slink away sadly while everyone else boarded the bus. Hey, Balch? Thanks a lot for neglecting to pass that friendly li’l change on to us Risleyites. I really appreciate it. (I’m not bitter at all! I swear, on the Precious!)
Therefore, if chance will have me sans Seneca Falls, why, chance may…give me the opportunity to assess the Cornell Shakespeare Troupe’s production of Macbeth instead.*
I was very excited to put on my metaphorical snobby theatre critic’s hat and write this review of the tragedy I saw at Risley Theater on Friday night. (In case you were wondering, said hat is a slouchy beret made of cruelty-free faux silk. Metaphorically speaking, that is.) Since “the Scottish play” is my ultimate favorite work written by Shakespeare ever ever ever, I was all prepared to be absolutely scandalized by what could only be a horrible performance. What can I say? I’m an optimist!
Sadly, hats or otherwise, I’m unable to be as critical as I’d like. Most actors were good, and some were incredible, particularly the Macduffs: Lady ‘duff should win an award for Best Female Performance Shorter Than Ten Minutes (though, ironically, she acted better in those nine and a half minutes than any other woman did in the entire play), and I can’t even begin to talk about Mr. MacD himself. This man is amazing. I hope someday I can sell my program with his name for millions on eBay.
Strangely enough, Risley plays are often, in my experience, significantly better than any of the Schwartz Center’s “mainstage” productions. This seems rather paradoxical: why would the plays presumably filled with theatre majors be less amazing than those done by CALS kids and poli-sci peeps who only act in their spare time? Granted, Macbeth featured a lot of the Schwartz/theatre major folks, and they certainly didn’t give shabby performances. Perhaps the more intimate Risley Theater environment simply lends itself to a more immersive experience.
Or maybe it's that 50% of the plays I've seen at Risley were by Shakespeare. I have simple, classic tastes, I suppose.
Honestly, the aspect of Macbeth that bothered me most was the unnecessary presence of weird projections cast onto the curtains behind the players in the style of wannabe-avant-garde installation art pieces. Now, admittedly, I’m sure I’d be singing a much different tune had all the projections actually loaded: I had the opening-night delight of watching Macbeth’s monologues occasionally interrupted by a giant, floating “Image Not Found.” Still, no production can be perfect, and, given the time constraints and limited budget, I will reluctantly take off my cynic’s cap (this one’s a jaded plaid derby) and admit that it was a quality show.
(Though it did irk me that the poster appeared to have been taken straight out that creepy episode of Dr. Who. And the gas mask only showed up in the play once. Come on!)
Is this my mummy I see before me?
*That’s a quote from the play, in case you were wondering about the archaic phrasing. I try.
Free the Bins!
Feb 26th
When answering a question on the “Which My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic character are you?” quiz (to all prospective students reading: you may want to go elsewhere if this does not sound like your ideal Friday night activity), I must admit that I did, at one point, assert that I do not believe in Santa Claus. (Who knows how that’s relevant to whether I’m more like Fluttershy or Twilight Sparkle, but whatever). Sorry, Saint Nick.
Fortunately, the Risley free bin has taken over this rotund joy-bringer’s role as a bearer of gifts–all year round. Every floor of Risley (except, of course, my own, but my friend and I might have something to do about that!) has a cardboard box into which passerby can deposit various items of clothing with which they are no longer in love. Discovering this has changed my life forever, and it’s not just because I keep adding totally awesome upcycled ensembles to my wardrobe. Honestly, it’s also hard to get rid of stuff at Cornell. If you don’t have a car, the nearest Goodwill might as well be in New York City. While I love shopping at Trader K’s, too, (a downtown designer secondhand store), they only accept the fanciest of clothing.
Thus, the benefits of the free bin are twofold: I can abandon those freaky pants I’ve had since freshman year (of high school, that is) in exchange for…well, take a look!
I don't know how I've survived so long in Ithaca without a pair of rainboots, but now my troubles are over!
These green flats were in less better shape, but it's nothing that a good wash won't fix.
Why am I so interested in free things, you ask (besides, of course, the fact that I attend a university that costs thousands of dollars to attend)? Well, today was one of those weekends when I was forced to head over to Target and Tops to invest in some expensive essentials. With printer cartridges and breakfast foods costing an arm and a leg these days, I’ll take all the free shoes I can get.
Except now I have a full fridge, so all is well.
The Lottery
Feb 23rd
Shirley Jackson never had it this good, folks.
Crowds of people staring at taped-up floorplans? An epic amount of fun-sized chocolate bars? More name-calling than you’d find in a second-grade classroom? Must be Housing Lottery time.
Of course, it’s important to note that the housing madness I experienced yesterday is nothing akin to the true craziness that is the real Housing Lottery (the yearly battle between hundreds of underclassmen for coveted West Campus suites). Since Risley is a program house, I only had to fight with a few scores of students for the best remaining rooms. When I submitted my “Returning Member Application Form” for Risley a few weeks ago, I already had my sights set on the beautiful single neighboring a dear friend’s. Apparently, though, random number generators hate me: my assigned lottery number was 77. At around 7PM last night (forty-five whole minutes before my time slot), an informant let me know that my beloved room had been snapped up, and I was heartbroken.
But that didn’t last long. Although I planned on just picking out my current room for another year, I somehow managed to choose the most awesome room on the fourth floor instead. Purely by accident.
Guys, this room is twenty square feet larger than my already sizable single. It’s directly across from the kitchen so my freaky introverted self will be able to spy from the peephole to make sure there aren’t people afoot whenever I want to cook. (I’m not creepy at all.) And, and, get this: there are two doors. Imagine the possibilities! I could have one for going in and going out! I could…
...pretend one leads to a different dimension.
Or make one the servants' door.
I must admit, though, that I’m not looking forward to bringing my laundry down four flights of stairs. It’ll be like descending into the heart of Mount Doom on a weekly basis with a big ol’ basket instead of a teensy Ring of Power. Beat that, Isildur.
An Im(prom)able Success
Feb 12th
Readers, I’ve made a miraculous discovery. That much-discussed Mayan calendar wasn’t counting down to the end of the world (or, for that matter, the theatrical release of The Hobbit). Oh, no. 2012 instead simply marks the auspicious year when Keely Sarr attends a dance that actually isn’t awkward, terrible or downright scarring.
Crazy, right?
The cultish prom worship that pop culture encourages in young students (particularly of the female variety, I’m sad to say) is absolutely disgusting. These poor innocents spend weeks dreaming of their perfect year’s end “rhythmic ceremonial ritual” (to quote the sage Doc Brown). They envision matching their dates perfectly, waltzing gracefully in the moonlight and not having to listen to some joker repeatedly declare that party rock is in the house tonight.
Tragically, these dreams, as I’m sure you all know, are ruthlessly crushed in every way possible. Your man-friend of the evening wears some dorky sport-coat he stole from his recently deceased great-grandfather because he “forgot” that tuxes existed. A booking mishap by a member of your clique results in an unwanted pre-prom bus ride instead of a horse-drawn carriage. Instead of being surprised by a graceful, conservative fox-trot, you are shocked to see the dance-floor is alive with the thumpin’ beats of bizarre men singing the praises of those enigmatic “shawties.”
Well, I still can’t say that I was driven in style to this weekend’s formal–but that’s because it took place right in my own dorm. Risley Hall, you see, hosts an annual Valentine’s Day themed shindig featuring fancy clothes and free food. Now, I’m normally above such activities (by which I mean I hide in my room whenever an event involving more than, say, six people is mentioned), but the promise of an a cappella performance opportunity (my group managed to secure a slot in the evening’s events) forced me to buy a red dress and come out of my shell.
Surprisingly, I’m really glad that I did.
My < 3 girls and I had been preparing for about three weeks (which is, amazingly enough, a long rehearsal period compared to last time) and sang a set of four dorky and/or hipster-esque songs in Risley’s Tammany (a “coffee-house” style lounge venue that often features local/in-house acts and free milkshakes).
If I thought singing the theme from “Robot Unicorn Attack” to an appreciative and understanding audience was going to be the highlight of the evening, though, I was wrong. Somehow, things managed to stay consistently awesome throughout the entire night.
Generally clean and grind-free dance floor behavior? Check. Speakers playing Beatles songs? Gotcha. Slightly disturbing footage of romantic scenes from Disney movies projected onto the wall in place of the standard slightly-more-disturbing music videos? Roger that.
I’ve certainly recovered from traumatic prom drama experiences, so I suppose the moral of this ridiculous post is to attend these seemingly dorky events in college: they can be great fun (especially if you, like me, are pretty dorky yourself)!
And, hey, maybe you'll get a corsage too! (Uh...nope. I think that's just me. Too bad for you.)
