Crafting is a big deal in the sorority world. It's right up there with taking pictures and ordering shirts for all major events.
One of the most crucial events for your crafting skills is the Big/Little reveal. Your gifts are a reflection of how much you love your little.
Ritual calls for the setting up of the little's gifts and then parading around sizing everyone up. Of course we disguise it as complimenting your fellow sisters on their effort and end products. Every time you hear an exclamation of, "Oooohhh that's so nice!” It is almost 75% guaranteed there is a thought running through their mind as catty and jealous as they come.
While we all respect each other, it's hard not to feel envy in someone else's work. Each of us feels like we slaved over our gifts for hours with as much love and endearment as the next. It just so happens that crafting is like all things in life, unfair and unbalanced in the talent department across the board. It's not the sister's fault... It's more that they weren't blessed with the ability to create pieces of art.
Either way, if you are the Crafty Casey and the Uncreative Ursula, you have to produce gifts for your little. If you aren't confident in your ability to craft, think smarter not harder! There is a neat little shop in town who supplies not only the blank canvases to create little gifts, but there are also completed, generalized crafts! Pick them up and don't worry because:
They are cheaper than the labor, time, supplies, and headache that come with a personalized gift.
Your little will know nothing different. She is so happy to see you at the end of the scavenger hunt, the presents are only icing on the cake.
Think about it. In 3 years... What are they REALLY going to do with all these crafts? Box em or trash em.
It is my belief that when it comes down to it, the craft ability is what you make it. If you think, "Ah man, I can't do this!" you'll only produce crap. If you go in thinking, "I can get this looking half-way decent!" I'm confident that your project will turn out better than you expected!
This all leads me to the title of the blog.
Now in the sorority house, you’d think crafting would be an acceptable practice. I mean it is in the Top 3! On the contrary, our house has rules and regulations on it. There are restricted areas, and the craft closet is locked close to 24/7. Because of the restrictions, it sometimes leaves us girls up to our own devices.
My sophomore year, my Soul Twin got a wild hair and felt the need to do last minute crafts for her little. Soul Twin had a thing for mosaics that year. She wanted to make her little something in that medium. I was excited to break glass, and she obliged because she wasn’t really into breaking the glass.
Now the thought of being destructive didn’t leave much time to think ahead of how to be safe. There were no safety glasses, gloves or bags to contain the glass mess.
I grabbed the pink hammer my cousin got me and left the pane of glass wrapped in the moving paper Hobby Lobby had put it in. Soul Twin wasn’t convinced this was the best idea, but it was too late. I began to break the glass. It was kind of chaotic. There were big pieces and shards and it couldn’t be contained after I opened up the small package.
Later on, my big came home. We shared a 2-girl room and lets just say I hadn’t really cleaned up after the mosaic deal. I mean I had put things up and Soul Twin took her things back to her room, but that is about it. My big was walking around and had taken off her shoes. I was sitting on my bed with Soul Twin doing something or another...
“Ahhhrgghhhhhh!!!!” My big was hopping on one foot and stumbling to her bed. “Why is there GLASS ON THE FLOOR?!?” She was a little upset... My eyes darted to Soul Twin and we made eye contact... Uh oh. We. Are. In. Trouble.
I tried to explain what had happened earlier in a nonchalant manner. She was not impressed and was still in much pain with tons of irritation boiling inside.
“You didn’t VACUUM?” .... Um, no. Didn’t cross my mind.
My big gave me a very stern talking to about the importance of cleaning up crafts. Especially the hazardous kinds. Now looking back, I am sure Big was just having a stressful day and perhaps took it out on me. I mean the piece of glass was a shard and it didn’t lodge itself into her foot. No emergency room visit or even a run over to the urgent care. But this was a great and dramatic lesson to learn about the secret rules of living in house.
Craft Safety 101 is nothing to joke about.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Monday, December 27, 2010
Delayed in Detroit
Happy Be-Lated Christmas!
I am traveling back to Oklahoma today and it has been a little adventure. It was snowing in Elmira plus the winter storms across the eastern U.S. equalled a 45 minute delay. That wasn’t terrible, but since the airport was so small, there was no place to get snacks or a drink. Thank goodness mom encouraged me to pack a power bar! After a delay in the air and some awesome turbulence, I landed in Detroit.
I had a mad race to locate my connection gate, but in my wisdom... I didn’t check before hand to see where my destination would be. If I had, I would of realized the tram was the most efficient option. This extra time I could of gained would have thus solved my conflict of: bathroom or food? Only have time for one when running through the world’s largest airport!
As I saw my gate, I decided I had enough time for the food/drink stop. While running through the airport, I noticed lots and lots of Pepsi. Strange, but what communist airport would choose not to carry Coca-Cola?! Psh... That is nonsense... However, when I turned into the store, I saw the cooler. It was filled with ALL Pepsi products. What? No. My personal hell has come true. I tried not to panic and grabbed Diet Crush and some pistachios. I needed to make it to the gate. As I sat down and waited to board the plane, I tried my addiction substitute.
Reality: Diet Crush isn’t Diet Coke. It was sweet and turned in my stomach... No more. As I broke into my pistachios, I heard the latest nightmare. “All passengers headed to Oklahoma, your flight has been delayed.”
What? Why? There isn’t even snow!!
“The flight crew has been delayed and won’t be here until 9:07. This means you won’t leave until 9:45 p.m. Sorry boutcha.”
Okay she didn’t say the last word, but I wish she would have. I find humor to help in times like these. We were suppose to leave at 7:45 p.m. Truth be told, I was only upset because that delayed my Diet Coke, however my reaction was a hiccup compared to the bomb that was about to drop by a couple fellow passengers.
The first battle I witnessed was more about the tone of the woman's voice rather than the volume. I only got a glimpse of the fight as I passed by. I had decided I would double-back to the Starbucks and treat myself with a little mocha lite frappuccino. Better than wolfing down a Popeyes spicy chicken meal with mashed potatoes, which was my first inclination. As I walked past the terminal desk, I tried to put myself in the shoes of both the distraught passenger and the worn out Delta Airline assistant. I couldn’t figure out whose position was worse... I love customer service, but airports are a place where I could probably end up killing a customer. There comes a point when some customers are SO steamed, that you could offer an all-expense paid trip to anywhere in the world, and it wouldn’t matter. They would still act as if you murdered their only child.
After my little Starbucks break, I came back to the gate. Now I thought I had seen the worst of angry passengers when I left, but it was about to become big time.
A lady dressed in a pink sweater with 3 bags (including some small pink backpack--her kid’s probably) was screaming. I am not exaggerating. This woman was yelling and using crazy big arm gestures. She starting dropping curse-bombs and the destruction was unending. I couldn’t really understand her story, but she had had a rough time with Delta. The poor assistants couldn’t get a word in, and continued to listen to her shred the company and her previous gate assistant. Finally, they led her to another gate, but the yelling didn’t stop. I am not for sure where she ended up, but I can only hope that she gets where she is going before she keels over from stress, anger and anxiety.
Again, I am not the happiest about this flight delay... But what can you do? Yelling at the assistants or getting feisty won’t help. Start calm, cool and collected. Now, if the assistants are being ridiculous... That might call for a change in tone, but at first-- I would advise keeping it all in perspective. I mean little baby Jesus was born yesterday, and we will all eventually make it to our destination.
Delta did give us a $6 food voucher and $25 credit for our next flight... Not really the compensation I was seeking, but like Doli says, “Better than a sharp stick in the eye.”
I must say, the best part of being delayed was seeing the man across the aisle from me doing some kind of martial arts, num-chucking. They weren’t real num-chucks. (Obviously! If I can’t bring in hand sanitizer, little nerdy-boy isn’t hauling in a set of num-chucks) Instead, he boasted a TSA approved version that looked like knee-high pantyhose with tennis balls in them. About 10 minutes after he started, two policemen were on him like a hawk. Shut him down and cited him. Bum-mer.
I suppose I am going to post this before my laptop battery dies. I hope everyone who has to travel has a less exciting adventure than this and makes it home safely. Wish me luck!
Psych- Just tried to pull up the internet and the airport home screen has confirmed this would be the WORST place to be stranded. No free wi-fi y’all. ($7.95 for 24 hours)
No Diet Coke. No Wi-Fi. No Way. This is just not right! I suppose I will post this when I get home. Such a disappointment!
I am traveling back to Oklahoma today and it has been a little adventure. It was snowing in Elmira plus the winter storms across the eastern U.S. equalled a 45 minute delay. That wasn’t terrible, but since the airport was so small, there was no place to get snacks or a drink. Thank goodness mom encouraged me to pack a power bar! After a delay in the air and some awesome turbulence, I landed in Detroit.
I had a mad race to locate my connection gate, but in my wisdom... I didn’t check before hand to see where my destination would be. If I had, I would of realized the tram was the most efficient option. This extra time I could of gained would have thus solved my conflict of: bathroom or food? Only have time for one when running through the world’s largest airport!
As I saw my gate, I decided I had enough time for the food/drink stop. While running through the airport, I noticed lots and lots of Pepsi. Strange, but what communist airport would choose not to carry Coca-Cola?! Psh... That is nonsense... However, when I turned into the store, I saw the cooler. It was filled with ALL Pepsi products. What? No. My personal hell has come true. I tried not to panic and grabbed Diet Crush and some pistachios. I needed to make it to the gate. As I sat down and waited to board the plane, I tried my addiction substitute.
Reality: Diet Crush isn’t Diet Coke. It was sweet and turned in my stomach... No more. As I broke into my pistachios, I heard the latest nightmare. “All passengers headed to Oklahoma, your flight has been delayed.”
What? Why? There isn’t even snow!!
“The flight crew has been delayed and won’t be here until 9:07. This means you won’t leave until 9:45 p.m. Sorry boutcha.”
Okay she didn’t say the last word, but I wish she would have. I find humor to help in times like these. We were suppose to leave at 7:45 p.m. Truth be told, I was only upset because that delayed my Diet Coke, however my reaction was a hiccup compared to the bomb that was about to drop by a couple fellow passengers.
The first battle I witnessed was more about the tone of the woman's voice rather than the volume. I only got a glimpse of the fight as I passed by. I had decided I would double-back to the Starbucks and treat myself with a little mocha lite frappuccino. Better than wolfing down a Popeyes spicy chicken meal with mashed potatoes, which was my first inclination. As I walked past the terminal desk, I tried to put myself in the shoes of both the distraught passenger and the worn out Delta Airline assistant. I couldn’t figure out whose position was worse... I love customer service, but airports are a place where I could probably end up killing a customer. There comes a point when some customers are SO steamed, that you could offer an all-expense paid trip to anywhere in the world, and it wouldn’t matter. They would still act as if you murdered their only child.
After my little Starbucks break, I came back to the gate. Now I thought I had seen the worst of angry passengers when I left, but it was about to become big time.
A lady dressed in a pink sweater with 3 bags (including some small pink backpack--her kid’s probably) was screaming. I am not exaggerating. This woman was yelling and using crazy big arm gestures. She starting dropping curse-bombs and the destruction was unending. I couldn’t really understand her story, but she had had a rough time with Delta. The poor assistants couldn’t get a word in, and continued to listen to her shred the company and her previous gate assistant. Finally, they led her to another gate, but the yelling didn’t stop. I am not for sure where she ended up, but I can only hope that she gets where she is going before she keels over from stress, anger and anxiety.
Again, I am not the happiest about this flight delay... But what can you do? Yelling at the assistants or getting feisty won’t help. Start calm, cool and collected. Now, if the assistants are being ridiculous... That might call for a change in tone, but at first-- I would advise keeping it all in perspective. I mean little baby Jesus was born yesterday, and we will all eventually make it to our destination.
Delta did give us a $6 food voucher and $25 credit for our next flight... Not really the compensation I was seeking, but like Doli says, “Better than a sharp stick in the eye.”
I must say, the best part of being delayed was seeing the man across the aisle from me doing some kind of martial arts, num-chucking. They weren’t real num-chucks. (Obviously! If I can’t bring in hand sanitizer, little nerdy-boy isn’t hauling in a set of num-chucks) Instead, he boasted a TSA approved version that looked like knee-high pantyhose with tennis balls in them. About 10 minutes after he started, two policemen were on him like a hawk. Shut him down and cited him. Bum-mer.
I suppose I am going to post this before my laptop battery dies. I hope everyone who has to travel has a less exciting adventure than this and makes it home safely. Wish me luck!
Psych- Just tried to pull up the internet and the airport home screen has confirmed this would be the WORST place to be stranded. No free wi-fi y’all. ($7.95 for 24 hours)
No Diet Coke. No Wi-Fi. No Way. This is just not right! I suppose I will post this when I get home. Such a disappointment!
Friday, December 24, 2010
Putting the 'T' in Tourist
So, I can now check something off my bucket list... #276 Go to New York City- With the bonus check off of #510 During Christmas. Double Whammy without even trying.
Incase you didn’t know, my father (New nickname: Jo-Jo) has moved to the wonderfully dreary town of Athens, PA to be the new Boss Man for a natural gas company. My mother is waiting on the house to sell and then will dutifully follow him up here. Currently my sister isn’t sure what she shall do... Move to PA and work or go to community college? Buy some courage and continue school in Oklahoma alone? The jury is still out. And me... Well, I always intended on staying in Oklahoma to finish out school-- Coming here to visit for 7 days only solidified this as a wise decision.
The day began at 3:45 am to arrive at the airport in time to clear security and make our 6 am flight. Thank goodness my mom was paranoid, because everyone including all people at the military bases decided to fly out. The lines were long! After a flight into the New York via a transfer in Detroit, I was met by a very cold and desolate setting called Elmira Airport. I could only imagine it was going to go up from there because our first destination was NYC!
Airport Lines
Well it should be no surprise that our luggage was lost thus delaying the trip. No worries though... We traveled into town and ate a Chili’s and then shopped at Barnes & Noble, TJ Maxx (Two x’s or just one?) AND Staples. Yes. Even in a brand new state, we stick to the familiar. Finally a Detroit plane carrying our luggage arrived and we were free to make the 4 hour trip to the city of lights.
Honestly, I slept most of the way. I was abruptly awoken about 3 hours in by my lovely sister shoving me and declaring she could see the Empire State Building... Thank goodness I was alerted to such news. However, waking up in such a manner left me grumpy all the way to the Hampton Inn. We stayed in New Jersey the first night and planned to catch a bus into New York. We were staying at a bed and breakfast for the night, so we brought our carry on suitcase with the essentials.
Following a good night’s sleep, we got ready to venture out into the Concrete Jungle. Up until this point, I had been dreading this part of the vacation. My family, like most families I know, is dysfunctional and eclectic. We have “TOURISTS” stamped on our foreheads and rear-ends. We don’t travel well. And we are known to have mini outbursts in public. (Not just the kids, adults are prone to them, too.)
I knew the Subway would surely eat us up before we could even make it to the street level to be trampled by fellow tourists and city-folk alike. It was 6 days before Christmas! We were doomed.
After loading the bus, we were shuttled into the city. As the brakes squealed in the Port Authority Bus Stop, my eyes got big as saucers when I realized the task ahead. Exit the bus and navigate the subway. I suppose we all had those looks because some large man with a pony tail took our hand (metaphorically, of course) and said in his thick accent, “Hey! Yous guys lost? Follow me. I’ll get you there.” And like little lambs, we gathered up our luggage and scampered after him.
Animatedly, he pointed out the subway trains we needed to take, where we could buy the cards, and how to get back to this point tomorrow to be picked up. And as fast as he had saved us, he vanished. We were on our own.
The only way to describe the debacle of the subway is like this: Remember those video/arcade games where you attempted to dodge the objects raining down on you? I remember a Mario Super Bros game where hammers and mallets would drop and when you didn’t move... You were smashed. So, here we go with 3 rolly luggages, 2 back packs, and an over the shoulder bag (my dad’s a light packer!)... Quite a lot to be dodging, bobbing and weaving through the mess of people. We didn’t plan ahead well.
After purchasing our all day “fun passes” for the subway (with 4 separate credit cards-- for some reason they would only do one transaction per credit card), we attempted to actually use them to clear the gate. Three of us successfully made it, one of us- my sister- epically failed. She tried to go DIRECTLY after me. Problem being, that this was new, and I had not been so graceful in getting myself and my luggage through the turn-style in a timely manner. So when my sister ran her card, I ended up using her turn as well. Oops. Since I used her turn, her card was inactive for 20 minutes. This measure is to keep people from handing their cards to the next person in line for endless swipage. However, we managed to use the precaution as yet another billboard that said, “Yeah, we are new. And apparently idiots. Sorry.” The subway man felt pity though, and let her go through the emergency exit after explaining the rules.
Now in the Subway, we had to figure out this train thing. We couldn’t remember what pony-tail man had said and we tried to figure it out ourselves. Let’s just say after about 30 minutes, 5 trains, and 3 people’s assistance, we made it to the Natural History Museum station. This was where the B&B was and I was so ready to drop off the pesky luggage. It would take a little less “Tourist” off our general appearance. Not to mention, subway transportation was NOT luggage-friendly.
My first New York hot dog was absolutely to die for. They must use cocaine in the meat because it was absolutely fantastic. We again had to verge back into subway land... I was not looking forward to it. Luggage or no luggage. We were still a blinking, neon sign screaming: VACATIONERS!
Myths and Facts about Subway:
1. Fact. Subways are strange, confusing and mind-boggling.There are a lot of apps for the NYC Subway. If you have an iPhone, buy one. Super helpful, BUT ONLY if you use the locator and direction giver up-ground with 3G access.
2. Myth. People who live in and around NYC are mean and jaded and not willing to help you figure out where you are going. Contrary to my belief, New York people are not all that mean... I don’t know how many people not only helped us with directions, but actually smiled! A couple times they even saw our panic radar and offered assistance. I always assumed New Yorkians would be mean, bitter and unsympathetic to the distraught weary traveler.
3. Fact. There are RATS in the subway. Now I never saw a live one, but I saw the traces of them... Then I searched them on YouTube and found some telling tales. Wikipedia also has some interesting thoughts on the varmints as well.
4. Fact. Subway people are just like the movies. Any movie or TV show you have seen depicting the subway is correct. Sad faces, 1 out of every 3 has ear buds in listening to who-knows-what, the second 1 out of 3 is reading a paper back book, and the final 1 out of 3 is sleeping. Don’t panic though, they wake up at the exact moment they intend to leave. Seriously though, they look like zombies who lead very depressing and exhaustive lives.
5. Myth. People who perform in subways have a heart to go along with their pan-handling ways. Performers on subways only want your money and REALLY don’t appreciate you video taping them. Even when you give them money... My thoughts are: For all they know I might own some music label in the Bible Belt and want to offer them a deal singing gospel... AND I also think that this a free country slash I paid for my pass just like you buddy.
6. Fact or Myth. Suicides happen in the NYC subway. Suicides on the subway are not recorded by the Transit Authority... The only thing I could think about as the trains zoomed to the platform was jumping out in front of it to see what happened. So I searched it on Google and the only records that are kept are through the Police department and therefore not so user friendly. Sorry I will have to end on a morbid note for this round of Fact or Myth: NYC Subway.
Back to the upper-level of NYC, it was cold. Street vendors (food and merchandise) were everywhere-- it reminded me of the state fair. And there were about a million people. Honking was the rule, not the exception. Some stores had lines to get into them. Oh, and the windows of department stores were GORGEOUS.
Street Food Vendors
We visited ground zero and saw the memorial being built along with the new tower. We walked down several streets looking in windows. We finally made it into a couple stores including FAO Schwarz, Crate & Barrel, Banana Republic, Sanrio AKA Hello Kitty store, and Macy’s. We saw the sites: Rockefeller Plaza, ABC building, Times Square, and the Empire State Building (from afar). And eventually our feet began to scream bloody murder.
Rockefeller Plaza- There was a proposal that happened while we were sigh-seeing. (Will I ever stop judging my proposal story against anothers??)
At FAO Toy Store-- Barbie Fooseball.
Macy's Largest Store in the World
Empire State Building
Times Square
Aside from the hot dog, I had roasted chestnuts for the first time. They drank the hot dog under the table. Those chestnuts were FABULOUS. Not only can I now relate to the classic holiday lyric, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” but now I want to attempt to make my own when I get back.
Overall, New York City was a great experience. We only did about 14 hours, but what I did get to experience was amazing. I doubt I could ever live there. I can’t imagine no backyard or anyway to escape the constant hoards of people and sounds. But, it was definitely a trip to remember.
My mom and I rounded out the night at a bar called Prohibition. Live music (Harry Potter look alike), a wonderful drink called “Mojito Colada” and a shot called “Key lime pie” kept the night entertaining. We even met a fellow sorority sister who graduated from Mississippi State. She now resides in NYC, but it was truly crazy to see how small the world is and how far your sisterhood travels.
Harry Potter sings to us
While we weren’t able to book an appointment at Kleinfeld’s (Say Yes to the Dress), we did drop by Hoboken for a trip to Carlo’s Bakery (Cake Boss). Yum. Yum. Yum. We got a few canolis, some lobster tails, creme puffs and a few other delectable items. Luckily for us there wasn’t a line out the door! And we saw two of the brother-in-laws before we left. (I took some shady pictures to document my encounter with famous people.) It was without a doubt a fun little end to the NYC trip. PS- Everything we purchased was VERY tasty.
Carlo's Bakery
Brother-In-Law #1 Shady Picture
Now I am sitting in Athens, PA. Not even remotely as exciting as NYC... I haven’t heard one car honk, but I do listen to the church bells every 4 hours. There are no extravegant and rich looking department windows, but the house down the street is dangerously close to blowing the town fuse with their holiday lights tribute to Baby Jesus. Alas there isn’t a 9 story Macy’s store, but we have been to the grocery store 9 separate times in the past 4 days. I think my dad is officially tired of the girl invasion on his apartment, and I am already mentally packing my bags to head out on the 26th.
I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas and enjoy the time you have with your families and loved ones. No matter how dysfunctional they are. After the yelling has conceded it all evens out and you realize you love those closest (and craziest) to you. And if it doesn’t even out, enter into the sugar coma- Santa won’t need all those cookies you baked and that fudge is calling your name! And if ALL else fails..... I won’t judge you if you need a little booze to ease the process. As the motto goes: to each his own.
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Cam
Incase you didn’t know, my father (New nickname: Jo-Jo) has moved to the wonderfully dreary town of Athens, PA to be the new Boss Man for a natural gas company. My mother is waiting on the house to sell and then will dutifully follow him up here. Currently my sister isn’t sure what she shall do... Move to PA and work or go to community college? Buy some courage and continue school in Oklahoma alone? The jury is still out. And me... Well, I always intended on staying in Oklahoma to finish out school-- Coming here to visit for 7 days only solidified this as a wise decision.
The day began at 3:45 am to arrive at the airport in time to clear security and make our 6 am flight. Thank goodness my mom was paranoid, because everyone including all people at the military bases decided to fly out. The lines were long! After a flight into the New York via a transfer in Detroit, I was met by a very cold and desolate setting called Elmira Airport. I could only imagine it was going to go up from there because our first destination was NYC!
Airport Lines
Well it should be no surprise that our luggage was lost thus delaying the trip. No worries though... We traveled into town and ate a Chili’s and then shopped at Barnes & Noble, TJ Maxx (Two x’s or just one?) AND Staples. Yes. Even in a brand new state, we stick to the familiar. Finally a Detroit plane carrying our luggage arrived and we were free to make the 4 hour trip to the city of lights.
Honestly, I slept most of the way. I was abruptly awoken about 3 hours in by my lovely sister shoving me and declaring she could see the Empire State Building... Thank goodness I was alerted to such news. However, waking up in such a manner left me grumpy all the way to the Hampton Inn. We stayed in New Jersey the first night and planned to catch a bus into New York. We were staying at a bed and breakfast for the night, so we brought our carry on suitcase with the essentials.
Following a good night’s sleep, we got ready to venture out into the Concrete Jungle. Up until this point, I had been dreading this part of the vacation. My family, like most families I know, is dysfunctional and eclectic. We have “TOURISTS” stamped on our foreheads and rear-ends. We don’t travel well. And we are known to have mini outbursts in public. (Not just the kids, adults are prone to them, too.)
I knew the Subway would surely eat us up before we could even make it to the street level to be trampled by fellow tourists and city-folk alike. It was 6 days before Christmas! We were doomed.
After loading the bus, we were shuttled into the city. As the brakes squealed in the Port Authority Bus Stop, my eyes got big as saucers when I realized the task ahead. Exit the bus and navigate the subway. I suppose we all had those looks because some large man with a pony tail took our hand (metaphorically, of course) and said in his thick accent, “Hey! Yous guys lost? Follow me. I’ll get you there.” And like little lambs, we gathered up our luggage and scampered after him.
Animatedly, he pointed out the subway trains we needed to take, where we could buy the cards, and how to get back to this point tomorrow to be picked up. And as fast as he had saved us, he vanished. We were on our own.
The only way to describe the debacle of the subway is like this: Remember those video/arcade games where you attempted to dodge the objects raining down on you? I remember a Mario Super Bros game where hammers and mallets would drop and when you didn’t move... You were smashed. So, here we go with 3 rolly luggages, 2 back packs, and an over the shoulder bag (my dad’s a light packer!)... Quite a lot to be dodging, bobbing and weaving through the mess of people. We didn’t plan ahead well.
After purchasing our all day “fun passes” for the subway (with 4 separate credit cards-- for some reason they would only do one transaction per credit card), we attempted to actually use them to clear the gate. Three of us successfully made it, one of us- my sister- epically failed. She tried to go DIRECTLY after me. Problem being, that this was new, and I had not been so graceful in getting myself and my luggage through the turn-style in a timely manner. So when my sister ran her card, I ended up using her turn as well. Oops. Since I used her turn, her card was inactive for 20 minutes. This measure is to keep people from handing their cards to the next person in line for endless swipage. However, we managed to use the precaution as yet another billboard that said, “Yeah, we are new. And apparently idiots. Sorry.” The subway man felt pity though, and let her go through the emergency exit after explaining the rules.
Now in the Subway, we had to figure out this train thing. We couldn’t remember what pony-tail man had said and we tried to figure it out ourselves. Let’s just say after about 30 minutes, 5 trains, and 3 people’s assistance, we made it to the Natural History Museum station. This was where the B&B was and I was so ready to drop off the pesky luggage. It would take a little less “Tourist” off our general appearance. Not to mention, subway transportation was NOT luggage-friendly.
My first New York hot dog was absolutely to die for. They must use cocaine in the meat because it was absolutely fantastic. We again had to verge back into subway land... I was not looking forward to it. Luggage or no luggage. We were still a blinking, neon sign screaming: VACATIONERS!
Myths and Facts about Subway:
1. Fact. Subways are strange, confusing and mind-boggling.There are a lot of apps for the NYC Subway. If you have an iPhone, buy one. Super helpful, BUT ONLY if you use the locator and direction giver up-ground with 3G access.
2. Myth. People who live in and around NYC are mean and jaded and not willing to help you figure out where you are going. Contrary to my belief, New York people are not all that mean... I don’t know how many people not only helped us with directions, but actually smiled! A couple times they even saw our panic radar and offered assistance. I always assumed New Yorkians would be mean, bitter and unsympathetic to the distraught weary traveler.
3. Fact. There are RATS in the subway. Now I never saw a live one, but I saw the traces of them... Then I searched them on YouTube and found some telling tales. Wikipedia also has some interesting thoughts on the varmints as well.
4. Fact. Subway people are just like the movies. Any movie or TV show you have seen depicting the subway is correct. Sad faces, 1 out of every 3 has ear buds in listening to who-knows-what, the second 1 out of 3 is reading a paper back book, and the final 1 out of 3 is sleeping. Don’t panic though, they wake up at the exact moment they intend to leave. Seriously though, they look like zombies who lead very depressing and exhaustive lives.
5. Myth. People who perform in subways have a heart to go along with their pan-handling ways. Performers on subways only want your money and REALLY don’t appreciate you video taping them. Even when you give them money... My thoughts are: For all they know I might own some music label in the Bible Belt and want to offer them a deal singing gospel... AND I also think that this a free country slash I paid for my pass just like you buddy.
6. Fact or Myth. Suicides happen in the NYC subway. Suicides on the subway are not recorded by the Transit Authority... The only thing I could think about as the trains zoomed to the platform was jumping out in front of it to see what happened. So I searched it on Google and the only records that are kept are through the Police department and therefore not so user friendly. Sorry I will have to end on a morbid note for this round of Fact or Myth: NYC Subway.
Back to the upper-level of NYC, it was cold. Street vendors (food and merchandise) were everywhere-- it reminded me of the state fair. And there were about a million people. Honking was the rule, not the exception. Some stores had lines to get into them. Oh, and the windows of department stores were GORGEOUS.
Street Food Vendors
We visited ground zero and saw the memorial being built along with the new tower. We walked down several streets looking in windows. We finally made it into a couple stores including FAO Schwarz, Crate & Barrel, Banana Republic, Sanrio AKA Hello Kitty store, and Macy’s. We saw the sites: Rockefeller Plaza, ABC building, Times Square, and the Empire State Building (from afar). And eventually our feet began to scream bloody murder.
Rockefeller Plaza- There was a proposal that happened while we were sigh-seeing. (Will I ever stop judging my proposal story against anothers??)
At FAO Toy Store-- Barbie Fooseball.
Macy's Largest Store in the World
Empire State Building
Times Square
Aside from the hot dog, I had roasted chestnuts for the first time. They drank the hot dog under the table. Those chestnuts were FABULOUS. Not only can I now relate to the classic holiday lyric, “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” but now I want to attempt to make my own when I get back.
Overall, New York City was a great experience. We only did about 14 hours, but what I did get to experience was amazing. I doubt I could ever live there. I can’t imagine no backyard or anyway to escape the constant hoards of people and sounds. But, it was definitely a trip to remember.
My mom and I rounded out the night at a bar called Prohibition. Live music (Harry Potter look alike), a wonderful drink called “Mojito Colada” and a shot called “Key lime pie” kept the night entertaining. We even met a fellow sorority sister who graduated from Mississippi State. She now resides in NYC, but it was truly crazy to see how small the world is and how far your sisterhood travels.
Harry Potter sings to us
While we weren’t able to book an appointment at Kleinfeld’s (Say Yes to the Dress), we did drop by Hoboken for a trip to Carlo’s Bakery (Cake Boss). Yum. Yum. Yum. We got a few canolis, some lobster tails, creme puffs and a few other delectable items. Luckily for us there wasn’t a line out the door! And we saw two of the brother-in-laws before we left. (I took some shady pictures to document my encounter with famous people.) It was without a doubt a fun little end to the NYC trip. PS- Everything we purchased was VERY tasty.
Carlo's Bakery
Brother-In-Law #1 Shady Picture
Now I am sitting in Athens, PA. Not even remotely as exciting as NYC... I haven’t heard one car honk, but I do listen to the church bells every 4 hours. There are no extravegant and rich looking department windows, but the house down the street is dangerously close to blowing the town fuse with their holiday lights tribute to Baby Jesus. Alas there isn’t a 9 story Macy’s store, but we have been to the grocery store 9 separate times in the past 4 days. I think my dad is officially tired of the girl invasion on his apartment, and I am already mentally packing my bags to head out on the 26th.
I hope everyone has a very Merry Christmas and enjoy the time you have with your families and loved ones. No matter how dysfunctional they are. After the yelling has conceded it all evens out and you realize you love those closest (and craziest) to you. And if it doesn’t even out, enter into the sugar coma- Santa won’t need all those cookies you baked and that fudge is calling your name! And if ALL else fails..... I won’t judge you if you need a little booze to ease the process. As the motto goes: to each his own.
Merry Christmas.
Love,
Cam
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Chronicles of MLZ: Pyromaniacs
My sophomore year I had less urges to quit... This came from slowly integrating myself into sorority life. One of my greatest joys was getting a mind-blowing little. I finally felt like I had someone to relate to and she had the same love/hate relationship with the whole ‘Greek Life” affair.
During initiation week, each pledge class has a special night with the new members. The nights are not considered a part of our ritual or the same each year. It is up to the pledge classes to come up with an activity.
Sophomore year was obviously the first time my pledge class was on the “other side.” We weren’t really for sure what to do and the usual leaders were left with the task to figure it out. Of course, no hazing was a must... But I think we can all agree that mystery and surprise isn’t hazing-- so that is the vision we aimed for.
My pledge class use to have some huge power struggles. All pledge classes begin that way though, and normally is dissipates. About halfway through our freshman year, I think about five sisters rose to the top as our leaders. They were who we looked to for actual organizing and piecing together a schedule or plan of action.
For our Sophomore Night with the new members, our plan was to take them to a disclosed place and do an exercise that focused on Big/Little pairings. In our brilliance, we thought there should be a candle or two involved. (We love the use of candles in the sorority apparently!)
So we met with the new members at the house and paired up with our littles. We kept the attitude very serious and firm, trying to build a tone of reverence. The whole point of a week long initiation is to think about why we are in the sorority as initiated members and more importantly... for the new members to think about why they want to be initiated into our sorority. With this kind of tone in mind, we loaded up into cars (and trucks!) and headed towards the destination.
I was driving my truck and my fellow pledge class sister’s little kept asking if they were going to be hazed. But not in the scared, oh man... I am freaking out! way... It was in this excited and anxious voice. It was as if she was HOPING for hazing. Sorry to disappoint, but we just don’t do that. Our take on hazing is giving our little’s a study board for Big/Little Christmas and it doesn’t have backing on it yet... But no worries. We write a long, drawn out note on animal print stationary about how sorry we are and how we will fix our wrong within the month because we love you SOOOOOO much. <3 Big
After a few minutes of trying to convince her there would be no hazing, we had arrived. It was time to see the brilliant plan unfold.
I think it is only fair to let everyone in on MLZ’s planning tactics. We usually have the leaders figure out what we are going to do. THEN, we meet about 10-30 minutes before the event and they try to explain it to us before we actually do it. Sometimes it works.... Sometimes it is a disaster. But either way we pride ourselves on being last-minute and sketchy. Nature’s Law. Sketchy people can’t make intricate plans ahead of time. Makes total sense. MLZ for life.
So we had our little’s sit in a circle while the bigs stood behind them. (I won’t lie, my memory is a little hazy so they may have been standing, but either way they were in a circle.) I am pretty sure that everyone had a candle... And the actual event involved big’s and little’s having a one on one moment ending with the candles getting lit. Okay, so in theory and in actual practice this was a great night! But there had to of been some hitch or else I wouldn’t take time to blog it!
So we are in the circle and quite a few of us have our candles lit. I am kind of drifting off and looking around at all the new babies... Imagining what they might become in the next few years. And truth be told, I was also trying to remember their names! As I browse around the group, I see dangerous situation unfold.
A very pretty new member has put her candle too close to her hair, or the person above or beside her has become careless with theirs.... Nevertheless, I see her hair catch on fire. I panic. What do I say? Is this real life? No one will believe we weren’t hazing now... I mean we caught a pledge’s hair on fire!!!!
I do what any normal person would do... Clap my hands and step out of the circle. I think I yelled something totally unhelpful like, “HEY HEY HEY!!!!”
This got everyone’s attention and the pledge extinguished the fire before any true damage could be done. Thank our lucky stars she didn’t quit or decide she had been hazed... That could have been REAL bad!
The night continued with no other casualties and, personally, it was one of my favorite nights during any year’s initiation week.
Perfect example of MLZ and our plans. Sometimes they go up in smoke, but other times they light up the night. (Cheesy... I know. Live it. Love it.)
You just never know with sketchiest PC in sorority history: MLZ.
During initiation week, each pledge class has a special night with the new members. The nights are not considered a part of our ritual or the same each year. It is up to the pledge classes to come up with an activity.
Sophomore year was obviously the first time my pledge class was on the “other side.” We weren’t really for sure what to do and the usual leaders were left with the task to figure it out. Of course, no hazing was a must... But I think we can all agree that mystery and surprise isn’t hazing-- so that is the vision we aimed for.
My pledge class use to have some huge power struggles. All pledge classes begin that way though, and normally is dissipates. About halfway through our freshman year, I think about five sisters rose to the top as our leaders. They were who we looked to for actual organizing and piecing together a schedule or plan of action.
For our Sophomore Night with the new members, our plan was to take them to a disclosed place and do an exercise that focused on Big/Little pairings. In our brilliance, we thought there should be a candle or two involved. (We love the use of candles in the sorority apparently!)
So we met with the new members at the house and paired up with our littles. We kept the attitude very serious and firm, trying to build a tone of reverence. The whole point of a week long initiation is to think about why we are in the sorority as initiated members and more importantly... for the new members to think about why they want to be initiated into our sorority. With this kind of tone in mind, we loaded up into cars (and trucks!) and headed towards the destination.
I was driving my truck and my fellow pledge class sister’s little kept asking if they were going to be hazed. But not in the scared, oh man... I am freaking out! way... It was in this excited and anxious voice. It was as if she was HOPING for hazing. Sorry to disappoint, but we just don’t do that. Our take on hazing is giving our little’s a study board for Big/Little Christmas and it doesn’t have backing on it yet... But no worries. We write a long, drawn out note on animal print stationary about how sorry we are and how we will fix our wrong within the month because we love you SOOOOOO much. <3 Big
After a few minutes of trying to convince her there would be no hazing, we had arrived. It was time to see the brilliant plan unfold.
I think it is only fair to let everyone in on MLZ’s planning tactics. We usually have the leaders figure out what we are going to do. THEN, we meet about 10-30 minutes before the event and they try to explain it to us before we actually do it. Sometimes it works.... Sometimes it is a disaster. But either way we pride ourselves on being last-minute and sketchy. Nature’s Law. Sketchy people can’t make intricate plans ahead of time. Makes total sense. MLZ for life.
So we had our little’s sit in a circle while the bigs stood behind them. (I won’t lie, my memory is a little hazy so they may have been standing, but either way they were in a circle.) I am pretty sure that everyone had a candle... And the actual event involved big’s and little’s having a one on one moment ending with the candles getting lit. Okay, so in theory and in actual practice this was a great night! But there had to of been some hitch or else I wouldn’t take time to blog it!
So we are in the circle and quite a few of us have our candles lit. I am kind of drifting off and looking around at all the new babies... Imagining what they might become in the next few years. And truth be told, I was also trying to remember their names! As I browse around the group, I see dangerous situation unfold.
A very pretty new member has put her candle too close to her hair, or the person above or beside her has become careless with theirs.... Nevertheless, I see her hair catch on fire. I panic. What do I say? Is this real life? No one will believe we weren’t hazing now... I mean we caught a pledge’s hair on fire!!!!
I do what any normal person would do... Clap my hands and step out of the circle. I think I yelled something totally unhelpful like, “HEY HEY HEY!!!!”
This got everyone’s attention and the pledge extinguished the fire before any true damage could be done. Thank our lucky stars she didn’t quit or decide she had been hazed... That could have been REAL bad!
The night continued with no other casualties and, personally, it was one of my favorite nights during any year’s initiation week.
Perfect example of MLZ and our plans. Sometimes they go up in smoke, but other times they light up the night. (Cheesy... I know. Live it. Love it.)
You just never know with sketchiest PC in sorority history: MLZ.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Follies Fail
Greeks love to perform. We love singing. We love dancing. We love to cheese. We love the stage. We love the crowds. We love the glory. We love the feeling of winning. We love the title and the trophy.
We live for the three shows that define OSU Greek Show Life: Freshman Follies, Varsity Review, and Spring Sing.
Freshmen Follies is arguably the most important and anticipated show of the three.
Reason #1- It is the first show of the year
Reason #2- It exhibits the newbies’, the pledges’, the freshmen's talent. AKA how did your recruitment go?
Reason #3- Two Words. “Follies Faces”
Basically a sorority and fraternity team up and plan a show... I think they are about 10 minutes? Don’t hold me to it. The show has a plot line and is basically a mini musical. Imagine High School Musical ground up and packaged into a mini podcast with the main characters being played by college freshmen.
Some of the themes I remember: Tarzan, Mummies, Halloween, Where’s Waldo, Sword and the Stone, Jurassic Park, Puppets, Magic School Bus, Rugrats, Cereal characters, Elementary school rule breakers, The Grinch, and Ghostbusters.
Back in the day, my sorority wasn’t really known for its show abilities. We weren’t cringing bad, but we didn’t win much either. I feel like we just coasted in the middle.
My freshman year, my entire pledge class was encouraged and welcomed to tryout. I was still in a phase where I was attempting to assimilate into the sorority, so I could have a valid examples of “I tried to make it work...!!” under my belt when I quit. In an attempt to participate, I decided to tryout for follies.
What the older members hadn’t really expressed was the fact that you had to have some potential. If you didn’t really have raw talent, a decent voice, or years of dance training under your belt... It probably wasn’t going to work out. I mean... They weren’t miracle workers!
Exhibit A: My background in performing-- One time in 8th grade I was enrolled in drama. We put on the play, Dracula. I was the nurse with two lines. Another time... I use to do tap and jazz and ballet, but I quit in the 3rd grade. Finally, I use to take voice lessons and piano lessons. I quit in the 1st grade. And that pretty much sums it up.
Not really the prospective follier they were looking for.
But! In my defense, I sang in my high school church youth praise band. I was pretty much lead singer... Although my usual audience was bout 74 years old and a few were were chronic nappers during the sermon. Not the most reliable critics. Also, it is a known fact that people aren’t allowed to tell you that you did any less than “Spectacular” in the house of God. I mean WWJD? He would commend me for my vocal courage and head for the Advil straight after the service.
Uninhibited by the fact I was lacking in the talent department, I practiced with my roommate (she was great at singing!) for a couple days on the perfect song. I figured if I could blow the directors away with my voice, they wouldn’t even care about my dancing.
The first part of the tryout was dancing. Forgetful me had only brought my boots... Most of my pledge class sisters had these strange looking black shoes... Come to find out, those were “Jazz Shoes.” An absolute must for dancing in Greek Shows.
So here I am in boots realizing that I might need a different choice in footwear. I ended up running back to my dorm and grabbing tennis shoes (no Jazz shoes, but again... I am banking on my song bird voice.) By the time I got back, they had already starting teaching the dance.
I tried to catch up, but found it all so overwhelming. They were using foreign terms and it was going so fast! 1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-8! And then came the kiss of death... A move that started with a “p” and was basically asking me to spin around with a leg in the air and then pull it back in to gain momentum in order to continue spinning... I wouldn’t have believed it to be possible until the director demonstrated. So, on cue, I took a stab at the move. I ended up hitting my pledge class sister next to me and knocking her over. EM-BARRASSING! The tears began to come. I ran out of the room and onto the front porch.
WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING?!?! I made a total fool of myself, and I HATE not being perfect at things. Before I could leave, the two girl directors came out to console me. They said it would be okay and that it wasn’t the end of the world. I didn’t really feel as if they meant what they said, but told them I’d be fine. It was obvious they wanted to get back inside to their tryouts, and staying outside consoling the hopeless was wasting their time.
I remember calling my mom and balling. I begged her to let me quit. I acted as if my life was over, but she insisted there would be other things to get involved in. Funny- Mom’s are usually always right.
That year and the year following we still didn’t excel in shows, but that was all going to change come my Junior year. Our recruitment efforts have paid off, and we are now a “Show House.”
I will say this though... I believe I am the first person to be let into a “show-ish” thing without any talent to contribute besides my personality. Recruitment Skit 2010. Who would have thought little old, untalented, unskilled, boot wearing, non-singing, non-dancing me would play a key role- Grandma Irene-in a “show house’s” recruitment skit? Psh... And they said they weren’t Miracle Workers.
We live for the three shows that define OSU Greek Show Life: Freshman Follies, Varsity Review, and Spring Sing.
Freshmen Follies is arguably the most important and anticipated show of the three.
Reason #1- It is the first show of the year
Reason #2- It exhibits the newbies’, the pledges’, the freshmen's talent. AKA how did your recruitment go?
Reason #3- Two Words. “Follies Faces”
Basically a sorority and fraternity team up and plan a show... I think they are about 10 minutes? Don’t hold me to it. The show has a plot line and is basically a mini musical. Imagine High School Musical ground up and packaged into a mini podcast with the main characters being played by college freshmen.
Some of the themes I remember: Tarzan, Mummies, Halloween, Where’s Waldo, Sword and the Stone, Jurassic Park, Puppets, Magic School Bus, Rugrats, Cereal characters, Elementary school rule breakers, The Grinch, and Ghostbusters.
Back in the day, my sorority wasn’t really known for its show abilities. We weren’t cringing bad, but we didn’t win much either. I feel like we just coasted in the middle.
My freshman year, my entire pledge class was encouraged and welcomed to tryout. I was still in a phase where I was attempting to assimilate into the sorority, so I could have a valid examples of “I tried to make it work...!!” under my belt when I quit. In an attempt to participate, I decided to tryout for follies.
What the older members hadn’t really expressed was the fact that you had to have some potential. If you didn’t really have raw talent, a decent voice, or years of dance training under your belt... It probably wasn’t going to work out. I mean... They weren’t miracle workers!
Exhibit A: My background in performing-- One time in 8th grade I was enrolled in drama. We put on the play, Dracula. I was the nurse with two lines. Another time... I use to do tap and jazz and ballet, but I quit in the 3rd grade. Finally, I use to take voice lessons and piano lessons. I quit in the 1st grade. And that pretty much sums it up.
Not really the prospective follier they were looking for.
But! In my defense, I sang in my high school church youth praise band. I was pretty much lead singer... Although my usual audience was bout 74 years old and a few were were chronic nappers during the sermon. Not the most reliable critics. Also, it is a known fact that people aren’t allowed to tell you that you did any less than “Spectacular” in the house of God. I mean WWJD? He would commend me for my vocal courage and head for the Advil straight after the service.
Uninhibited by the fact I was lacking in the talent department, I practiced with my roommate (she was great at singing!) for a couple days on the perfect song. I figured if I could blow the directors away with my voice, they wouldn’t even care about my dancing.
The first part of the tryout was dancing. Forgetful me had only brought my boots... Most of my pledge class sisters had these strange looking black shoes... Come to find out, those were “Jazz Shoes.” An absolute must for dancing in Greek Shows.
So here I am in boots realizing that I might need a different choice in footwear. I ended up running back to my dorm and grabbing tennis shoes (no Jazz shoes, but again... I am banking on my song bird voice.) By the time I got back, they had already starting teaching the dance.
I tried to catch up, but found it all so overwhelming. They were using foreign terms and it was going so fast! 1-2-3-4, 5-6-7-8! And then came the kiss of death... A move that started with a “p” and was basically asking me to spin around with a leg in the air and then pull it back in to gain momentum in order to continue spinning... I wouldn’t have believed it to be possible until the director demonstrated. So, on cue, I took a stab at the move. I ended up hitting my pledge class sister next to me and knocking her over. EM-BARRASSING! The tears began to come. I ran out of the room and onto the front porch.
WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING?!?! I made a total fool of myself, and I HATE not being perfect at things. Before I could leave, the two girl directors came out to console me. They said it would be okay and that it wasn’t the end of the world. I didn’t really feel as if they meant what they said, but told them I’d be fine. It was obvious they wanted to get back inside to their tryouts, and staying outside consoling the hopeless was wasting their time.
I remember calling my mom and balling. I begged her to let me quit. I acted as if my life was over, but she insisted there would be other things to get involved in. Funny- Mom’s are usually always right.
That year and the year following we still didn’t excel in shows, but that was all going to change come my Junior year. Our recruitment efforts have paid off, and we are now a “Show House.”
I will say this though... I believe I am the first person to be let into a “show-ish” thing without any talent to contribute besides my personality. Recruitment Skit 2010. Who would have thought little old, untalented, unskilled, boot wearing, non-singing, non-dancing me would play a key role- Grandma Irene-in a “show house’s” recruitment skit? Psh... And they said they weren’t Miracle Workers.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Chronicles of MLZ: Pledge Retreat
As the semester winds down, I ponder my blog's fate. Winter Break will not yield too many new sorority stories, and it is up in the air on how much material I will get living out of house. Hopefully, nothing will change though. But in preparation for Winter Break, I think I am going to do a little mini-series about my pledge class.
MLZ.
Those three letters symbolize some of the highest highs and lowest lows these past four years. I couldn’t tell you how many we started with or how many we are at right now. It doesn’t matter. The faces and numbers didn’t make the past four years; rather it was the kooky personalities, the nutty ideas, the ridiculous events, and the absolutely absurd meetings.
Back track to anyone who isn’t in my sorority…. We have three letters that our house takes very seriously and only those who pledge the sorority know the meaning behind them. Then our chapter does Pledge Class Letters. Each pledge class is supposed to pick three letters for their pledge class only. The letters are supposed to be special and only your PC knows the meaning behind them.
Letter choosing is one of the first things you do as a pledge class without an older member helping. During pledge class meetings, no older members are present. These unsupervised meetings are where your PC sisters true colors and personalities begin to flare up and shine. I am pretty sure that first year, all meetings ended up with someone yelling “SHUT UP!” And then 4-6 girls determining what we were going to do. The rest of us willingly agreed because we were so tired of the bickering and fighting. We just wanted to leave Stout Basement!
Enough background... So after I pledged my new sorority, I didn’t return to the house until it was required of me. I had been sororitied out and besides that, no one told me the door code. After one week of school, the freshmen pledge class went on the annual Pledge Class Retreat. Our New Member Educator and the SET leaders were the only ones allowed to join us.
We were told to bring sleeping bags and that our final location was the Girl Scout camping grounds right outside of Stillwater.
Cool. I wasn’t too keen on this whole camping shindig. And with about 50 girls I didn’t know… Also, I really don’t like sleeping in foreign places. I can’t count the number of times I called my mom at midnight from a friend’s house begging to come home from a sleepover. I even struggled last year sleeping at my fiancé’s grandparent’s house. And by struggled, I mean I cried almost the whole way there.
Not to mention this camping situation seemed shady and had hazing written all over it.
(My sorority has a strict no hazing policy, but isn’t that what every sorority and fraternity says? But, after being in my sorority for 4 years, I can confidently say we don’t haze. We can’t even single out a pledge class (freshmen to senior) to do something like sell t-shirts or shag balls at our philanthropy event. Trust me, my sorority is the “smother you with love” kind of group not beat the love into you.)
The campgrounds ended up being a kind of cabin thing that was definitely old school. The Girl Scouts had left strangely painted banners and creepy mobiles hanging from the ceiling. This turned from possible hazing scenario to a C horror movie scene. The bathroom wasn’t connected to the building and I don’t really remember any A/C besides the fans on the ceiling.
There was plenty of junk food, pop, and pizza which again… You would think sorority girls would frown upon such indulgence behaviors. Nope. My sorority likes to eat… And then go run at the Colvin for 3 hours, but still… we don’t mind the excessive workout as long as we get our pasta bar and some of Janice’s desserts (the cook).
The evening consisted of some bonding activities, and activities that included writing a letter to yourself and goal setting.
One of the most overwhelming things about the PC retreat was literally not knowing anyone’s name. That stressed me out beyond belief. Every one of these girls was a stranger with no name. I am so bad at socializing, and every time I would try to join a little pod group, they would slowly leave one by one and form again somewhere else. I may of have been paranoid, but I felt like everyone was avoiding me. It was such a low place to be.
That night, it began to storm. Thunder and lightening. The real deal, Oklahoma storm. There was a special meeting that required us to be siting in a circle with no lights besides a candle. Now, I am one of those people who can convince myself that Freddie Kruger is standing right outside my window in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Or that there are demons in the room and they are going to possess what’s-her-face sitting next to me (Paranormal Activity 1 or 2. You pick). So I am freaking out. Then, BAM! BAM BAM!!!!!!
We all screamed and possibly peed a little. The seniors had arrived to surprise us. They brought cake too… Of course.
At this point, I had had enough. I was over this whole sorority gig. I was ready to wad up my sleeping bag and hitch hike back to my dorm. This was weird. They couldn’t have planned a worse PC retreat—I mean come on! One room, Girl Scout cabin plus a storm? My anxiety level was through the roof. I started to cry. Luckily, the majority of the girls were lining up for cake or taking a potty break. One senior noticed me, the blubbering, pathetic freshmen. She started at me with concern in her eyes but I was not in the mood to talk.
Apparently she didn’t recognize my, “No thanks, I don’t want to discuss my feelings,” look and asked me if I would go outside with her… Yeah. With Freddie? Sure. Why not?
She asked me what was wrong and I explained what was going on from my struggles to make friends, to my doubts about even joining a sorority. She began trying to assure me that the first semester of pledging was a blur and very overwhelming, but it would work out. She even sympathized with my “I came to college with no friends,” sob story. She was from Texas and had come to OSU alone as a freshman. She urged me to give my pledge class sisters a chance, and try to engage in conversations.
I am not for sure how some upperclassmen, stranger convinced me all was going to be okay, but I calmed down and tried to really engage in the whole pledge class retreat. My second attempt to quit had been cut off at the pass.
The rest of the night was filled with some crazy picture taking with a girl who I thought was going to be my sorority BFF. We bonded over the fact that we didn’t think we liked the whole sorority experience. We also found common ground because neither of us had gelled with anyone in our pledge class… Well except for each other. I was so pumped to have finally found someone who had a name that I could remember and a personality that didn’t ooze sorority… PC Retreat had a little ray of sunshine in it!
I went to bed around 2 am, but a handful of my sisters stayed up all night… Every now and then we reminisce back on PC Retreat 07 and laugh at the very first friendships we formed. In such a small amount of time, we had only gotten to know each other’s post-high school/overly friendly personalities. It would take time to really get to know each other and our closer friendship with the PC would shift. Plus, we were bound to mature and change a little from freshmen year… =)
Example of friendships from PC Retreat not working out? My BFF. She quit a week later. Didn’t tell me. Story of my life… Should of guessed- I mean we bonded over not liking the sorority! Helllloooo!!!!?!
But we still laugh about it now as the veteran group of MLZ. It is always good to be able to look at the “breaking down moments” and realize it was a mere speed bump and things didn’t combust shortly after like expected.
I love, love, love my pledge class and have more stories to come!
MLZ. We rock.
MLZ.
Those three letters symbolize some of the highest highs and lowest lows these past four years. I couldn’t tell you how many we started with or how many we are at right now. It doesn’t matter. The faces and numbers didn’t make the past four years; rather it was the kooky personalities, the nutty ideas, the ridiculous events, and the absolutely absurd meetings.
Back track to anyone who isn’t in my sorority…. We have three letters that our house takes very seriously and only those who pledge the sorority know the meaning behind them. Then our chapter does Pledge Class Letters. Each pledge class is supposed to pick three letters for their pledge class only. The letters are supposed to be special and only your PC knows the meaning behind them.
Letter choosing is one of the first things you do as a pledge class without an older member helping. During pledge class meetings, no older members are present. These unsupervised meetings are where your PC sisters true colors and personalities begin to flare up and shine. I am pretty sure that first year, all meetings ended up with someone yelling “SHUT UP!” And then 4-6 girls determining what we were going to do. The rest of us willingly agreed because we were so tired of the bickering and fighting. We just wanted to leave Stout Basement!
Enough background... So after I pledged my new sorority, I didn’t return to the house until it was required of me. I had been sororitied out and besides that, no one told me the door code. After one week of school, the freshmen pledge class went on the annual Pledge Class Retreat. Our New Member Educator and the SET leaders were the only ones allowed to join us.
We were told to bring sleeping bags and that our final location was the Girl Scout camping grounds right outside of Stillwater.
Cool. I wasn’t too keen on this whole camping shindig. And with about 50 girls I didn’t know… Also, I really don’t like sleeping in foreign places. I can’t count the number of times I called my mom at midnight from a friend’s house begging to come home from a sleepover. I even struggled last year sleeping at my fiancé’s grandparent’s house. And by struggled, I mean I cried almost the whole way there.
Not to mention this camping situation seemed shady and had hazing written all over it.
(My sorority has a strict no hazing policy, but isn’t that what every sorority and fraternity says? But, after being in my sorority for 4 years, I can confidently say we don’t haze. We can’t even single out a pledge class (freshmen to senior) to do something like sell t-shirts or shag balls at our philanthropy event. Trust me, my sorority is the “smother you with love” kind of group not beat the love into you.)
The campgrounds ended up being a kind of cabin thing that was definitely old school. The Girl Scouts had left strangely painted banners and creepy mobiles hanging from the ceiling. This turned from possible hazing scenario to a C horror movie scene. The bathroom wasn’t connected to the building and I don’t really remember any A/C besides the fans on the ceiling.
There was plenty of junk food, pop, and pizza which again… You would think sorority girls would frown upon such indulgence behaviors. Nope. My sorority likes to eat… And then go run at the Colvin for 3 hours, but still… we don’t mind the excessive workout as long as we get our pasta bar and some of Janice’s desserts (the cook).
The evening consisted of some bonding activities, and activities that included writing a letter to yourself and goal setting.
One of the most overwhelming things about the PC retreat was literally not knowing anyone’s name. That stressed me out beyond belief. Every one of these girls was a stranger with no name. I am so bad at socializing, and every time I would try to join a little pod group, they would slowly leave one by one and form again somewhere else. I may of have been paranoid, but I felt like everyone was avoiding me. It was such a low place to be.
That night, it began to storm. Thunder and lightening. The real deal, Oklahoma storm. There was a special meeting that required us to be siting in a circle with no lights besides a candle. Now, I am one of those people who can convince myself that Freddie Kruger is standing right outside my window in Stillwater, Oklahoma. Or that there are demons in the room and they are going to possess what’s-her-face sitting next to me (Paranormal Activity 1 or 2. You pick). So I am freaking out. Then, BAM! BAM BAM!!!!!!
We all screamed and possibly peed a little. The seniors had arrived to surprise us. They brought cake too… Of course.
At this point, I had had enough. I was over this whole sorority gig. I was ready to wad up my sleeping bag and hitch hike back to my dorm. This was weird. They couldn’t have planned a worse PC retreat—I mean come on! One room, Girl Scout cabin plus a storm? My anxiety level was through the roof. I started to cry. Luckily, the majority of the girls were lining up for cake or taking a potty break. One senior noticed me, the blubbering, pathetic freshmen. She started at me with concern in her eyes but I was not in the mood to talk.
Apparently she didn’t recognize my, “No thanks, I don’t want to discuss my feelings,” look and asked me if I would go outside with her… Yeah. With Freddie? Sure. Why not?
She asked me what was wrong and I explained what was going on from my struggles to make friends, to my doubts about even joining a sorority. She began trying to assure me that the first semester of pledging was a blur and very overwhelming, but it would work out. She even sympathized with my “I came to college with no friends,” sob story. She was from Texas and had come to OSU alone as a freshman. She urged me to give my pledge class sisters a chance, and try to engage in conversations.
I am not for sure how some upperclassmen, stranger convinced me all was going to be okay, but I calmed down and tried to really engage in the whole pledge class retreat. My second attempt to quit had been cut off at the pass.
The rest of the night was filled with some crazy picture taking with a girl who I thought was going to be my sorority BFF. We bonded over the fact that we didn’t think we liked the whole sorority experience. We also found common ground because neither of us had gelled with anyone in our pledge class… Well except for each other. I was so pumped to have finally found someone who had a name that I could remember and a personality that didn’t ooze sorority… PC Retreat had a little ray of sunshine in it!
I went to bed around 2 am, but a handful of my sisters stayed up all night… Every now and then we reminisce back on PC Retreat 07 and laugh at the very first friendships we formed. In such a small amount of time, we had only gotten to know each other’s post-high school/overly friendly personalities. It would take time to really get to know each other and our closer friendship with the PC would shift. Plus, we were bound to mature and change a little from freshmen year… =)
Example of friendships from PC Retreat not working out? My BFF. She quit a week later. Didn’t tell me. Story of my life… Should of guessed- I mean we bonded over not liking the sorority! Helllloooo!!!!?!
But we still laugh about it now as the veteran group of MLZ. It is always good to be able to look at the “breaking down moments” and realize it was a mere speed bump and things didn’t combust shortly after like expected.
I love, love, love my pledge class and have more stories to come!
MLZ. We rock.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Pickers Can't Be Choosers
There are many things we pick in life. Our college major. Our friends. Our clothes we wear each day. Our meals we eat. Our favorite blanket (night night!). Our Christmas list. Our drink at the bar. And sometimes even our nose. Yet none of these choices are quite as important as ROOM PICK!
Room Pick: a time designated when sorority members choose the room they want to live in for the upcoming semester. Usually two House Corporation members are present. Bump points are law… AND…. Drama is guaranteed.
With over 40 rooms to choose from between a little under 90 members, room pick can become quite a nightmare rather quickly if not managed well.
We can trace back the headache of room pick to a little piece of paper called Bump Points.
Basically, members are asked to write down their life activities from the past semester in order to be judged next to their pledge class members all in the hopes of deriving a room pick order. Some of the categories: Academics (GPA), Campus Involvement, In House Involvement, Community Service Hours, Participation in other Greek house events (philanthropy), Work, Intramurals, Collegiate Sports (Band, Cheer, Tennis), Miscellaneous.
Back in the day, Bump Points were a complete joke. You could put down absolutely anything and there was point consideration. Examples? Well, how many t-shirts you bought, when you sorted the mail on that lazy Tuesday, going out to parties (PR, duh!), DD-ing (saving lives, reputations and bad life choices, duh!), working out (Stay fit, and again—Good PR!), attending stuff that was required already (chapter, formal dinners, etc.). We always use to say that you put down every thing down on the form including every time you took a breath or pooped.
This year there was a re-vamp apparently, which attempted to control the ridiculousness of the points. It seemed sophisticated enough, but nothing will ever be a solid fix when there is a winner and a loser. Someone will always feel like their points weren’t counted correctly, or the values weren’t fairly given out to each activity. Even going by GPA only would raise questions of transfer credits, major difficulty, and the level of workload per class.
Wouldn’t it be awesome if there were a “Picking Hat?” Similar to the Harry Potter sorting hat… People put on the hat and it shouted out their room. Or, bringing it back to reality, maybe the hat idea wouldn’t be too bad. Just pick numbers out of a hat to choose your room. Talk about getting to know your sisters. Pretty sure that is just asking for someone to slit her roommate’s throat during that first test week.
This isn’t that far-fetched of an idea though. The picking hat scenario is EXACTLY what happened to me during the Fall 2010 Room Pick.
Flashback to the Spring of 2010. For some unknown reason, I had made the decision to live in house one more semester. Unconsciously, I think I was scared to live by myself, but I just pretended that I was doing my pledge class a favor by staying in house. Usually there are only a certain number of spots available for moving out… Between inactive members and seniors, House Corp was worried all of the beds wouldn’t be filled. Little did they know… That was going to be the least of their worries.
A week prior, bump points had been released and sisters began talking about their rooms of choice and roommates. The significant thing about living situations in the fall is the coveted Big/Little pair. All the bigs and littles want to live together. This particular room pick, we had an abundance of twins and bigs desiring that specific living arrangement. Problem being that there are only so many 3-girl rooms in the house.
I was number one in Bump Points for the entire house. This means I get first pick of whatever room I want. At the time, I wanted a 3-girl with two of my sophomore buddies who weren’t living with their bigs. This caused quite an upheaval among many members who were appalled I’d even imagine taking a 3-girl. But that is the beauty of Bump Points. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought or wanted. Because I was old and had busted my behind in those above-mentioned categories of Bump Points…. I received the privilege to choose the 2-girl, the 4-girl, the 5-girl, or even a desired 3-girl room.
After a week’s worth of harassment and brown nosing, I was beyond ready to walk into the French room, claim my room, and be done with it. On a Tuesday evening during Dead Week at 6:30 p.m., I did just that. I thought I was in the clear and began to do Recruitment Medley Try-outs in the conference room.
About 15 minutes, one of my assumed future roommates burst into the try-out. There was a problem. Someone had miscalculated and there weren’t going to be enough beds. Members (not just one) would have the option to move out! Did I want to go? Um, HECK NO! I don’t have a house, or roommates, or the psyche that is required to move out.
As room pick moved along, the big talkers who claimed they were ready to get on out of the house were now bowing out and staying in. I am guessing they were just as frightened with the prospect of being homeless in two weeks if a miracle housing didn’t occur.
Finally sophomores… SOPHOMORES… were given the chance to move out! Still we were one bed short for in-house members. House Corporation was completely prepared to move a bed into the Annex house and call it even. I knew this was the worst idea in the world. At the time… When a bed was added, it had no hopes of ever being removed. This meant more beds to fill in an undecided future. I knew if it came down to it… I would need to move out.
Well it came down to it…. I moved out and my decision along with some other sophomore decisions began the loosey-goosey re-picking of rooms. Women who were planning on living with girls who were now granted out-of-house did not plan on getting a rando. (Rando: someone who was not planned to live in a room with original roommates.) They insisted they should be able to change rooms and knock others out of their rooms because of Bump Points… For some mysterious reason, these requests were granted and room pick warped into a catty game of Musical Chairs.
Immediately after I uttered the words, “I’ll move out,” I regretted my choice. WHERE IN TARNATION WAS I GOING TO LIVE?!?!? I have no options for roommates in my pledge class, the houses still available this late in the semester are probably raunchy, and how am I going to finance this decision?? (Just because you move out of house does not mean you don’t continue to pay an out-of-house fee PLUS dues.) I do a complete break down. It had been awhile since I’d cried and sobbed that hard. My parents didn’t understand what had happened, but tried to reassure me that it would be fine and they would take care of it.
Before the night was over, I received a phone call from the House Manager. She said there was a bed open in house. A strange miscount had occurred… So… Would I like it? Psh, yeah! I would love to not be homeless!!!!!!!
I had naively assumed I would get my original room and that we would basically restart room pick… I mean I was #1 in Bump Points— And those are law!
Incorrect. I was so incorrect.
I became the rando that was placed in a room. A senior moving back in house with top bump points was basically treated like an insignificant freshman who was oblivious anyways. I was steamed. Who the heck was I living with? How in world did this happen? What happened to the law?
I found out I was to live with VP-Standards and her little. The only thing I knew about the little was that she loved Jesus. A lot.
Now, I am a Christian but I am also not perfect. I can get somewhat dramatic and loose my cool every now and then, which sometimes leads to words that might not be acceptable in the presence of a nun. I am also not a model sorority member. I question about everything that I think is shady and am not afraid to call out people when things are wrong. And I thought I was about to embark on a journey that involved living with the sorority rule keeper and a nun. #1 in Bump Points. Again… What the heck?!?
I wasn’t aware that those two had already switched with our suitemates. Their logic was that the suitemates would be more welcoming than the original two. This always gives me a good laugh.
This past fall I moved into a room with a very bitter attitude. I was determined not to like it. I was convinced I was about to be the poster child of Room Pick rando gone wrong. Nothing could prepare for the reality of this….
After about a week, I recognized this debacle had actually been a blessing in disguise. My roommates and I slowly warmed up to each other… Each party just as surprised as the other that we all clicked in a strange way. It was an absolute miracle.
Reflecting now in my last two weeks living with them, I couldn’t imagine any other situation for my final semester in house. They were unquestionably the perfect solution for the terrible equation room pick had been. We still joke about how we thought this would be a nightmare. We laugh even harder when we talk about how we perceived each other pre-living together. And we still wonder how this outrageous grouping ended up in friendship and bond we will all cherish.
Sometimes… Even when the odds are stacked against you and you think it is all over, everything ends up working out just like its suppose to.
I’d like to give a shout out to Jacker Crack’s one and only Mal Pal. Known for her love of Ebonics, Llamas, Pictionary, and her Uncanny ability to proof read. I shall miss her, but I’d like to pass on the 7-11 legacy to her and the new roommates. Enjoy the vents.
Room Pick: a time designated when sorority members choose the room they want to live in for the upcoming semester. Usually two House Corporation members are present. Bump points are law… AND…. Drama is guaranteed.
With over 40 rooms to choose from between a little under 90 members, room pick can become quite a nightmare rather quickly if not managed well.
We can trace back the headache of room pick to a little piece of paper called Bump Points.
Basically, members are asked to write down their life activities from the past semester in order to be judged next to their pledge class members all in the hopes of deriving a room pick order. Some of the categories: Academics (GPA), Campus Involvement, In House Involvement, Community Service Hours, Participation in other Greek house events (philanthropy), Work, Intramurals, Collegiate Sports (Band, Cheer, Tennis), Miscellaneous.
Back in the day, Bump Points were a complete joke. You could put down absolutely anything and there was point consideration. Examples? Well, how many t-shirts you bought, when you sorted the mail on that lazy Tuesday, going out to parties (PR, duh!), DD-ing (saving lives, reputations and bad life choices, duh!), working out (Stay fit, and again—Good PR!), attending stuff that was required already (chapter, formal dinners, etc.). We always use to say that you put down every thing down on the form including every time you took a breath or pooped.
This year there was a re-vamp apparently, which attempted to control the ridiculousness of the points. It seemed sophisticated enough, but nothing will ever be a solid fix when there is a winner and a loser. Someone will always feel like their points weren’t counted correctly, or the values weren’t fairly given out to each activity. Even going by GPA only would raise questions of transfer credits, major difficulty, and the level of workload per class.
Wouldn’t it be awesome if there were a “Picking Hat?” Similar to the Harry Potter sorting hat… People put on the hat and it shouted out their room. Or, bringing it back to reality, maybe the hat idea wouldn’t be too bad. Just pick numbers out of a hat to choose your room. Talk about getting to know your sisters. Pretty sure that is just asking for someone to slit her roommate’s throat during that first test week.
This isn’t that far-fetched of an idea though. The picking hat scenario is EXACTLY what happened to me during the Fall 2010 Room Pick.
Flashback to the Spring of 2010. For some unknown reason, I had made the decision to live in house one more semester. Unconsciously, I think I was scared to live by myself, but I just pretended that I was doing my pledge class a favor by staying in house. Usually there are only a certain number of spots available for moving out… Between inactive members and seniors, House Corp was worried all of the beds wouldn’t be filled. Little did they know… That was going to be the least of their worries.
A week prior, bump points had been released and sisters began talking about their rooms of choice and roommates. The significant thing about living situations in the fall is the coveted Big/Little pair. All the bigs and littles want to live together. This particular room pick, we had an abundance of twins and bigs desiring that specific living arrangement. Problem being that there are only so many 3-girl rooms in the house.
I was number one in Bump Points for the entire house. This means I get first pick of whatever room I want. At the time, I wanted a 3-girl with two of my sophomore buddies who weren’t living with their bigs. This caused quite an upheaval among many members who were appalled I’d even imagine taking a 3-girl. But that is the beauty of Bump Points. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought or wanted. Because I was old and had busted my behind in those above-mentioned categories of Bump Points…. I received the privilege to choose the 2-girl, the 4-girl, the 5-girl, or even a desired 3-girl room.
After a week’s worth of harassment and brown nosing, I was beyond ready to walk into the French room, claim my room, and be done with it. On a Tuesday evening during Dead Week at 6:30 p.m., I did just that. I thought I was in the clear and began to do Recruitment Medley Try-outs in the conference room.
About 15 minutes, one of my assumed future roommates burst into the try-out. There was a problem. Someone had miscalculated and there weren’t going to be enough beds. Members (not just one) would have the option to move out! Did I want to go? Um, HECK NO! I don’t have a house, or roommates, or the psyche that is required to move out.
As room pick moved along, the big talkers who claimed they were ready to get on out of the house were now bowing out and staying in. I am guessing they were just as frightened with the prospect of being homeless in two weeks if a miracle housing didn’t occur.
Finally sophomores… SOPHOMORES… were given the chance to move out! Still we were one bed short for in-house members. House Corporation was completely prepared to move a bed into the Annex house and call it even. I knew this was the worst idea in the world. At the time… When a bed was added, it had no hopes of ever being removed. This meant more beds to fill in an undecided future. I knew if it came down to it… I would need to move out.
Well it came down to it…. I moved out and my decision along with some other sophomore decisions began the loosey-goosey re-picking of rooms. Women who were planning on living with girls who were now granted out-of-house did not plan on getting a rando. (Rando: someone who was not planned to live in a room with original roommates.) They insisted they should be able to change rooms and knock others out of their rooms because of Bump Points… For some mysterious reason, these requests were granted and room pick warped into a catty game of Musical Chairs.
Immediately after I uttered the words, “I’ll move out,” I regretted my choice. WHERE IN TARNATION WAS I GOING TO LIVE?!?!? I have no options for roommates in my pledge class, the houses still available this late in the semester are probably raunchy, and how am I going to finance this decision?? (Just because you move out of house does not mean you don’t continue to pay an out-of-house fee PLUS dues.) I do a complete break down. It had been awhile since I’d cried and sobbed that hard. My parents didn’t understand what had happened, but tried to reassure me that it would be fine and they would take care of it.
Before the night was over, I received a phone call from the House Manager. She said there was a bed open in house. A strange miscount had occurred… So… Would I like it? Psh, yeah! I would love to not be homeless!!!!!!!
I had naively assumed I would get my original room and that we would basically restart room pick… I mean I was #1 in Bump Points— And those are law!
Incorrect. I was so incorrect.
I became the rando that was placed in a room. A senior moving back in house with top bump points was basically treated like an insignificant freshman who was oblivious anyways. I was steamed. Who the heck was I living with? How in world did this happen? What happened to the law?
I found out I was to live with VP-Standards and her little. The only thing I knew about the little was that she loved Jesus. A lot.
Now, I am a Christian but I am also not perfect. I can get somewhat dramatic and loose my cool every now and then, which sometimes leads to words that might not be acceptable in the presence of a nun. I am also not a model sorority member. I question about everything that I think is shady and am not afraid to call out people when things are wrong. And I thought I was about to embark on a journey that involved living with the sorority rule keeper and a nun. #1 in Bump Points. Again… What the heck?!?
I wasn’t aware that those two had already switched with our suitemates. Their logic was that the suitemates would be more welcoming than the original two. This always gives me a good laugh.
This past fall I moved into a room with a very bitter attitude. I was determined not to like it. I was convinced I was about to be the poster child of Room Pick rando gone wrong. Nothing could prepare for the reality of this….
After about a week, I recognized this debacle had actually been a blessing in disguise. My roommates and I slowly warmed up to each other… Each party just as surprised as the other that we all clicked in a strange way. It was an absolute miracle.
Reflecting now in my last two weeks living with them, I couldn’t imagine any other situation for my final semester in house. They were unquestionably the perfect solution for the terrible equation room pick had been. We still joke about how we thought this would be a nightmare. We laugh even harder when we talk about how we perceived each other pre-living together. And we still wonder how this outrageous grouping ended up in friendship and bond we will all cherish.
Sometimes… Even when the odds are stacked against you and you think it is all over, everything ends up working out just like its suppose to.
I’d like to give a shout out to Jacker Crack’s one and only Mal Pal. Known for her love of Ebonics, Llamas, Pictionary, and her Uncanny ability to proof read. I shall miss her, but I’d like to pass on the 7-11 legacy to her and the new roommates. Enjoy the vents.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Leaving the -ings
Well, it is official! I am an out of house member of my sorority! The House Corporation finally answered my prayers and deemed me worthy enough to pack up my bags and become a real-life, off-campus student.
Feelings? Excited. Anxious. Scared. Overwhelmed. The thought of a house to myself is CRAZY! I haven’t had a room to myself in two and a half years. It has been six long semesters. Six long semesters of living in house with 60 ish girls. I have lived in two girl, three girl, and five girl rooms. Each one has it’s unique roommates, original story and its own nostalgic memories.
To think that I will make the rules in my new home is also a little nuts. I have lived with rules for a long time. In my parents’ house, in the dorms, and in the sorority house. Now, I make the rules.
No one can fine me if my room isn’t clean. I don’t have to panic about someone cleaning out the fridge and throwing away my leftover meal. No more sharing the bathroom or having to seek out a friend’s house to live at when a break comes along because the sorority house closes. I now have the sole control of the TV. I don’t have to worry about a code, but instead will have my own key. There will be a BACKYARD and my little baby Malibu can live with me. Never will I have to hold my breath driving up to the house, because NO ONE WILL EVER BE IN MY PARKING SPOT. I can light fires and candles or burst into my room without worrying about waking up roommates. I can actually buy a bottle of wine and store it in my fridge. There will be no more meal times or menus, instead I will have my own oven and stove. Laundry can be done at my own leisurely speed, and guess what? I can do crafts any place I want. I never have to wear shoes. Drinks and food can be taken anywhere. AND boys can be in the home at any hour I deem necessary.
With so many pro’s, I cannot believe it has taken me so long to get outta there! Then again... I have really enjoyed my time in house. Always someone to talk to. Only had to clean a small portion of a room and bathroom. Meals were cooked daily by someone else. I was relatively close to campus. There were sneaky pranks getting played by sisters, which were always hilarious. Random serenades by fraternities. Perfect studying areas for large groups. Never had to do my dishes. Always living in a house with the excuse book and dues box. Almost a 50% guarantee that a group was practicing for a show-- hence free musical entertainment. Laughter was usually only a room away. Friendships that probably would have never happened formed because we were living together. Crazy rules made by House Corp were perfect targets for rebellion and fun.
While living in second floor 5 girl, I broke my first rule. I brought a PET into the sorority house. A fish. The semester before I had asked if I could have a fish. I was told very sternly that my sisters might be allergic to fish thus the strict policy of no pets. I was sort of confused... Fish live in water. Unless a sister was to come my room, intoxicated, and drink my vase of water, and inadvertently swallowed the fish... I can see how we might fear an allergic reaction! However, this is a far shot. I decided the risk was worth it and bought a beta fish and named him TJ. He lived a good few months and died for some mysterious reason. My roommates would say it was because I didn’t clean his vase enough... But I think it was just the sorority house slowly killing him because he knew he wasn’t suppose to be there. A boy and a pet... He had no chance. I went ahead and gave him a proper burial in the sorority’s front yard. I am sure House Corp would kill me if they found out, but this was before our expensive front yard makeover. And really, I was just trying to enrich our soil beds while respectfully memorializing a life lived well.
Rumors have it our membership has grown so much that in the fall of 2011, the house won’t be able to hold both the freshmen and sophomore pledge class. This is strange because right now, I am a senior living in house. There are plenty of juniors still moving in next semester, and of course many, many sophomores. But to think that some freshmen might not get to live in house, and may sophomores will have only had two semesters is sad. That is barely dipping your toes into the whole “living in house” experience. I guess it means they will have try even harder to make the most of it.
I know the biggest thing outsiders say is, “Oh wow... I could never live in a house with so many girls!” And I totally thought the same thing, but it grows on you. It is a unique environment, but I don’t think it is all that bad. The house is definitely always moving. Studying, singing, dancing, eating, whispering, watching, talking, sleeping, listening, walking, screaming, running, and about a thousand other -ing verbs happen. It is hard to find a quiet moment, but that is why you can leave at any point in time. Nothing is more sacred than having a safe haven somewhere on campus or at a friend’s house. It is all about balance.
Hopefully moving out of house won’t make me a distant member of the sorority. Usually when someone moves out, they are only seen on Monday nights in chapter or at required events. It is hard to make it over to the house and hang out when you don’t have a bed for some reason. I know I was never at the house when I lived in the dorms, and I have a sick, nagging feeling that fate is what awaits me in the spring. I am crossing my fingers I will make the effort to come by the house to just say hi. I don’t want to become the out of house senior stranger! But, I like to think that even though I am moving out, the house is still my house. (I am sure still paying about a bazillion dollars to House Corp!) But really, I am moving out and gaining a new home. I still have my sorority home. Two houses have to be better than one....
I guess time will tell. Now the next step is house hunting. Because I won’t have time to get on the HGTV version, I will be doing this solo... Wish me luck! Crossing my fingers for hardwood floors, a backyard, appliances included (fridge, washer/dryer, and a dishwasher!), plenty of windows, and perhaps even a garage? But most importantly, I am hoping to keep close to the sorority house... So when I get lonely, I will only be a hop, skip and jump away from my house of -ings, friends, and sisters.
Feelings? Excited. Anxious. Scared. Overwhelmed. The thought of a house to myself is CRAZY! I haven’t had a room to myself in two and a half years. It has been six long semesters. Six long semesters of living in house with 60 ish girls. I have lived in two girl, three girl, and five girl rooms. Each one has it’s unique roommates, original story and its own nostalgic memories.
To think that I will make the rules in my new home is also a little nuts. I have lived with rules for a long time. In my parents’ house, in the dorms, and in the sorority house. Now, I make the rules.
No one can fine me if my room isn’t clean. I don’t have to panic about someone cleaning out the fridge and throwing away my leftover meal. No more sharing the bathroom or having to seek out a friend’s house to live at when a break comes along because the sorority house closes. I now have the sole control of the TV. I don’t have to worry about a code, but instead will have my own key. There will be a BACKYARD and my little baby Malibu can live with me. Never will I have to hold my breath driving up to the house, because NO ONE WILL EVER BE IN MY PARKING SPOT. I can light fires and candles or burst into my room without worrying about waking up roommates. I can actually buy a bottle of wine and store it in my fridge. There will be no more meal times or menus, instead I will have my own oven and stove. Laundry can be done at my own leisurely speed, and guess what? I can do crafts any place I want. I never have to wear shoes. Drinks and food can be taken anywhere. AND boys can be in the home at any hour I deem necessary.
With so many pro’s, I cannot believe it has taken me so long to get outta there! Then again... I have really enjoyed my time in house. Always someone to talk to. Only had to clean a small portion of a room and bathroom. Meals were cooked daily by someone else. I was relatively close to campus. There were sneaky pranks getting played by sisters, which were always hilarious. Random serenades by fraternities. Perfect studying areas for large groups. Never had to do my dishes. Always living in a house with the excuse book and dues box. Almost a 50% guarantee that a group was practicing for a show-- hence free musical entertainment. Laughter was usually only a room away. Friendships that probably would have never happened formed because we were living together. Crazy rules made by House Corp were perfect targets for rebellion and fun.
While living in second floor 5 girl, I broke my first rule. I brought a PET into the sorority house. A fish. The semester before I had asked if I could have a fish. I was told very sternly that my sisters might be allergic to fish thus the strict policy of no pets. I was sort of confused... Fish live in water. Unless a sister was to come my room, intoxicated, and drink my vase of water, and inadvertently swallowed the fish... I can see how we might fear an allergic reaction! However, this is a far shot. I decided the risk was worth it and bought a beta fish and named him TJ. He lived a good few months and died for some mysterious reason. My roommates would say it was because I didn’t clean his vase enough... But I think it was just the sorority house slowly killing him because he knew he wasn’t suppose to be there. A boy and a pet... He had no chance. I went ahead and gave him a proper burial in the sorority’s front yard. I am sure House Corp would kill me if they found out, but this was before our expensive front yard makeover. And really, I was just trying to enrich our soil beds while respectfully memorializing a life lived well.
Rumors have it our membership has grown so much that in the fall of 2011, the house won’t be able to hold both the freshmen and sophomore pledge class. This is strange because right now, I am a senior living in house. There are plenty of juniors still moving in next semester, and of course many, many sophomores. But to think that some freshmen might not get to live in house, and may sophomores will have only had two semesters is sad. That is barely dipping your toes into the whole “living in house” experience. I guess it means they will have try even harder to make the most of it.
I know the biggest thing outsiders say is, “Oh wow... I could never live in a house with so many girls!” And I totally thought the same thing, but it grows on you. It is a unique environment, but I don’t think it is all that bad. The house is definitely always moving. Studying, singing, dancing, eating, whispering, watching, talking, sleeping, listening, walking, screaming, running, and about a thousand other -ing verbs happen. It is hard to find a quiet moment, but that is why you can leave at any point in time. Nothing is more sacred than having a safe haven somewhere on campus or at a friend’s house. It is all about balance.
Hopefully moving out of house won’t make me a distant member of the sorority. Usually when someone moves out, they are only seen on Monday nights in chapter or at required events. It is hard to make it over to the house and hang out when you don’t have a bed for some reason. I know I was never at the house when I lived in the dorms, and I have a sick, nagging feeling that fate is what awaits me in the spring. I am crossing my fingers I will make the effort to come by the house to just say hi. I don’t want to become the out of house senior stranger! But, I like to think that even though I am moving out, the house is still my house. (I am sure still paying about a bazillion dollars to House Corp!) But really, I am moving out and gaining a new home. I still have my sorority home. Two houses have to be better than one....
I guess time will tell. Now the next step is house hunting. Because I won’t have time to get on the HGTV version, I will be doing this solo... Wish me luck! Crossing my fingers for hardwood floors, a backyard, appliances included (fridge, washer/dryer, and a dishwasher!), plenty of windows, and perhaps even a garage? But most importantly, I am hoping to keep close to the sorority house... So when I get lonely, I will only be a hop, skip and jump away from my house of -ings, friends, and sisters.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Birthday Crickets
What an exciting week! It was my engagement AND birthday week! Truth be told, it has been a whole lot of celebration for this kid. If you haven’t already gotten the vibe, I am a person who likes routine. I get grouchy when things come up unexpectedly or out of nowhere. Case-in-point: I’d rather have my Monday full of classes ending with an election chapter than any kind of holiday! Weird, but the unstructured nature of a holiday freaks me out. In the same way that I hate crickets, I hate holidays. Both are unpredictable and bound to take about a bazillion different jumps.
To me, birthdays are even worse than a holiday. It is a holiday dedicated to one person. Talk about pressure! Especially if you don’t like attention…. Like me! People are wishing you happy birthdays in person, through cards, by means of texting, via facebook, and through twitter. I gave up saying individual thank yous about 2 years ago. It should just be understood that I can’t keep up with the facebooking. (I want to delete that thing! But how would I announce my blog…? Thus why it stays.) With twitter, I can reply for the most part. And I am still polite in semi-person (texting) and of course in person, but between my engagement and birthday… The facebook page has grown out of control. I have NEVER had so many wall posts in my time on facebook. People come out of the wood works to congratulate and wish birthday cheer. It is never good when you receive a notification from a name that you don’t even recognize. My iPhone was BLOWING UP all week… I guess my point is, I appreciate all the wishes, and I would like the thank everyone.
So what did I do for my 22nd birthday? Well, in order for everyone to value my night… You need to know my history with birthday parties. I have never had an abundance of friends. I tend to stick to about 5. This caused a tiny problem when it came to birthday time. Doli likes to party. Whether it is her 13-year-old daughter’s party or her own “Doli Party Weekend Bash.” (Yes, there were t-shirts.) She goes all out, and that means a lot of people. There are three birthdays that stick out to me before this past one.
When I was turning 9, I desperately wanted a Chuck-E-Cheese party. I was that kid who saved her tickets in a gallon size, freezer, zip-lock bag. I anticipated the day I could get the awesome green and black lava lamp that was worth a million tickets. I heard a rumor that if it was your birthday you got extra tokens. More tokens equal more tickets. See where I am going with this? Well, after invitations were sent out, my mom decided that there weren’t enough RSVPs to make the pipe dream happen. In order to not crush my heart, she thought it would be a fabulous idea to do a joint party for my sister and me. That is all and well except Mackenzie and I are like water and vinegar. I didn’t protest too much, because I had my eye on the prize. The. Lava. Lamp. When it came party time, lets just say that 4 of my friends showed up, and Mackenzie stole my tickets. Suck-E-Cheese Party of 1997.
The next memorable birthday would be in 2004. Sweet Sixteen. Still having problems in the friend department. Even so, Doli dreamed up the fantasy of a surprise birthday party. The venue? Laser tag. Of course… What 16-year-old girl wouldn’t want to run around sweaty with a laser gun and a 5 lb. vest strapped around her body with glowing targets on her birthday? There were 30 people invited to my party. My best friend was the decoy to get me to the venue, and she did a great job keeping the surprise on the down low. So good that only 3 people showed up. But to be fair, there were 8 people total at the party. Doli, Joe, Mac, me, best friend and the 3 guests. The party was such a dud that we ended up playing one game of tag and finishing up at TGIF’s for a celebratory dinner. You can do spontaneous things such as that when there are only 8 people.
My 21st birthday party was not typical. I was in the middle of teaching my soil science lesson plans in a real life classroom, thus I wasn’t too keen on going out for the typical celebration. I mean I wouldn’t respect a hung over college student teacher if I were in high school. Even scarier, I thought of being hung over and trying to tame the bratty junior boys who had already successfully tricked me into thinking their names were Lewis and Clark. Like the explorers. Well, that birthday year, my parents came to Stillwater and we went to Louie’s for dinner. It was really chill and low key. I had my first legal alcoholic drink, and enjoyed my family’s company. Fun fact: I actually didn’t grace the bars until March of 2010. I suppose this can be attributed to my less than enthusiastic attitude towards social atmospheres.
This year was a COMPLETELY different story. I was feeling like I had missed out the year before and I wanted to make up for lost time. (Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.) With the help of a very dear friend, I was able to have dinner with about 20 women who I love and adore very much. Yes. I purposely typed 20. There were 20 women who took time to celebrate with me! I couldn’t ever describe to you how much it meant to me. However, there was one glitch to the night.
At Texas Roadhouse, they do a malicious ritual to someone who claims it’s their birthday. In general, I will never understand any restaurant’s fascination with embarrassing people on their birthdays. And by embarrassment, I mean humiliate. At Roadhouse, they do it up in a way that can only be described as cruel and unusual. Now I was fully aware of this when I chose the restaurant. I wasn’t too concerned because I knew my sisters would NEVER do that to me. Should of known better. I was blind-sided halfway through dinner by a screaming blonde waitress. She declared it was my birthday and insisted I mount a saddle on wheels. Holy crap. Which sister would be shanked for pulling this stunt? Two margaritas had not jaded me enough to do such a ridiculous act. Laughing awkwardly and uncomfortably, I slowly got on top of the invisible horse. I began to cry. Some thought it was because I was laughing so hard. This was incorrect. These were tears of shock and embarrassment. After saying a meek, “Yee-haw,” I was allowed off the saddle. The waitress gave me a bowl of ice cream and said Happy Birthday. After all of that, they gave me ice cream. Y’all. I am lactose intolerant. Not cool. No sister claimed to have told the waitress, but I have my guesses! All I have to say is what goes around, comes around.
Anyways…. After a lovely dinner, a group of us headed over to the strip. I would love to describe the night to you, but I feel like what happens on the strip with me, stays on the strip. It was nothing terrible, but definitely a top night. Some snip-its I would like to share with you:
- Men with Mohawks love to dance.
- Techno music is very convincing.
- Bachelor parties can be planned by newly acquainted men.
- College Bar’s mixed drinks are basically shots.
- The tables at College Bar are very slippery. Be careful with your drinks!
- You have to be smarter than the girls’ bathroom lock.
- Received a name for me and Rob: Cambob
- Cowboy hats are not TOO out of place at College Bar.
- You get free shots at College Bar if it’s your birthday. Just show your ID.
- Never underestimate MLZ… or at least the 5 of us that ventured to the strip that night.
Well, needless to say, 22 was definitely top notch. It smashed the Chuck-E-Cheese debacle and absolutely decimated the laser tag disaster. It trumped my fake 21, and I can confidently say it re-opened my Grinchy heart to the possibility of a great Birthday. But not to get carried away or anything… Let me make it very clear—I still loathe unstructured, crickety, holidays.
Special Shout Out to Kylie Dixon. The reason for a successful 22. =) I love you dearly.
To me, birthdays are even worse than a holiday. It is a holiday dedicated to one person. Talk about pressure! Especially if you don’t like attention…. Like me! People are wishing you happy birthdays in person, through cards, by means of texting, via facebook, and through twitter. I gave up saying individual thank yous about 2 years ago. It should just be understood that I can’t keep up with the facebooking. (I want to delete that thing! But how would I announce my blog…? Thus why it stays.) With twitter, I can reply for the most part. And I am still polite in semi-person (texting) and of course in person, but between my engagement and birthday… The facebook page has grown out of control. I have NEVER had so many wall posts in my time on facebook. People come out of the wood works to congratulate and wish birthday cheer. It is never good when you receive a notification from a name that you don’t even recognize. My iPhone was BLOWING UP all week… I guess my point is, I appreciate all the wishes, and I would like the thank everyone.
So what did I do for my 22nd birthday? Well, in order for everyone to value my night… You need to know my history with birthday parties. I have never had an abundance of friends. I tend to stick to about 5. This caused a tiny problem when it came to birthday time. Doli likes to party. Whether it is her 13-year-old daughter’s party or her own “Doli Party Weekend Bash.” (Yes, there were t-shirts.) She goes all out, and that means a lot of people. There are three birthdays that stick out to me before this past one.
When I was turning 9, I desperately wanted a Chuck-E-Cheese party. I was that kid who saved her tickets in a gallon size, freezer, zip-lock bag. I anticipated the day I could get the awesome green and black lava lamp that was worth a million tickets. I heard a rumor that if it was your birthday you got extra tokens. More tokens equal more tickets. See where I am going with this? Well, after invitations were sent out, my mom decided that there weren’t enough RSVPs to make the pipe dream happen. In order to not crush my heart, she thought it would be a fabulous idea to do a joint party for my sister and me. That is all and well except Mackenzie and I are like water and vinegar. I didn’t protest too much, because I had my eye on the prize. The. Lava. Lamp. When it came party time, lets just say that 4 of my friends showed up, and Mackenzie stole my tickets. Suck-E-Cheese Party of 1997.
The next memorable birthday would be in 2004. Sweet Sixteen. Still having problems in the friend department. Even so, Doli dreamed up the fantasy of a surprise birthday party. The venue? Laser tag. Of course… What 16-year-old girl wouldn’t want to run around sweaty with a laser gun and a 5 lb. vest strapped around her body with glowing targets on her birthday? There were 30 people invited to my party. My best friend was the decoy to get me to the venue, and she did a great job keeping the surprise on the down low. So good that only 3 people showed up. But to be fair, there were 8 people total at the party. Doli, Joe, Mac, me, best friend and the 3 guests. The party was such a dud that we ended up playing one game of tag and finishing up at TGIF’s for a celebratory dinner. You can do spontaneous things such as that when there are only 8 people.
My 21st birthday party was not typical. I was in the middle of teaching my soil science lesson plans in a real life classroom, thus I wasn’t too keen on going out for the typical celebration. I mean I wouldn’t respect a hung over college student teacher if I were in high school. Even scarier, I thought of being hung over and trying to tame the bratty junior boys who had already successfully tricked me into thinking their names were Lewis and Clark. Like the explorers. Well, that birthday year, my parents came to Stillwater and we went to Louie’s for dinner. It was really chill and low key. I had my first legal alcoholic drink, and enjoyed my family’s company. Fun fact: I actually didn’t grace the bars until March of 2010. I suppose this can be attributed to my less than enthusiastic attitude towards social atmospheres.
This year was a COMPLETELY different story. I was feeling like I had missed out the year before and I wanted to make up for lost time. (Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.) With the help of a very dear friend, I was able to have dinner with about 20 women who I love and adore very much. Yes. I purposely typed 20. There were 20 women who took time to celebrate with me! I couldn’t ever describe to you how much it meant to me. However, there was one glitch to the night.
At Texas Roadhouse, they do a malicious ritual to someone who claims it’s their birthday. In general, I will never understand any restaurant’s fascination with embarrassing people on their birthdays. And by embarrassment, I mean humiliate. At Roadhouse, they do it up in a way that can only be described as cruel and unusual. Now I was fully aware of this when I chose the restaurant. I wasn’t too concerned because I knew my sisters would NEVER do that to me. Should of known better. I was blind-sided halfway through dinner by a screaming blonde waitress. She declared it was my birthday and insisted I mount a saddle on wheels. Holy crap. Which sister would be shanked for pulling this stunt? Two margaritas had not jaded me enough to do such a ridiculous act. Laughing awkwardly and uncomfortably, I slowly got on top of the invisible horse. I began to cry. Some thought it was because I was laughing so hard. This was incorrect. These were tears of shock and embarrassment. After saying a meek, “Yee-haw,” I was allowed off the saddle. The waitress gave me a bowl of ice cream and said Happy Birthday. After all of that, they gave me ice cream. Y’all. I am lactose intolerant. Not cool. No sister claimed to have told the waitress, but I have my guesses! All I have to say is what goes around, comes around.
Anyways…. After a lovely dinner, a group of us headed over to the strip. I would love to describe the night to you, but I feel like what happens on the strip with me, stays on the strip. It was nothing terrible, but definitely a top night. Some snip-its I would like to share with you:
- Men with Mohawks love to dance.
- Techno music is very convincing.
- Bachelor parties can be planned by newly acquainted men.
- College Bar’s mixed drinks are basically shots.
- The tables at College Bar are very slippery. Be careful with your drinks!
- You have to be smarter than the girls’ bathroom lock.
- Received a name for me and Rob: Cambob
- Cowboy hats are not TOO out of place at College Bar.
- You get free shots at College Bar if it’s your birthday. Just show your ID.
- Never underestimate MLZ… or at least the 5 of us that ventured to the strip that night.
Well, needless to say, 22 was definitely top notch. It smashed the Chuck-E-Cheese debacle and absolutely decimated the laser tag disaster. It trumped my fake 21, and I can confidently say it re-opened my Grinchy heart to the possibility of a great Birthday. But not to get carried away or anything… Let me make it very clear—I still loathe unstructured, crickety, holidays.
Special Shout Out to Kylie Dixon. The reason for a successful 22. =) I love you dearly.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
For the love of Candlelight
Light the candles because we are about to have a good old-fashioned Candlelight! In reality, only on candle is lit. And ironically, this candle is placed one top of a bouquet of flowers. Even so, it is regarded as an event of the semester in sorority land.
For those who do not engage in sorority events, a Candlelight is a ritual done to reveal a sister's engagement. In our sorority, a cute little jingle is sung while the blazing bouquet is passed around the circle. The ceremony usually takes place after a chapter, allowing for a bulk of the membership to be in attendance.
Last night we had our first Candlelight of the semester. You would have thought it was a real-life game of Clue! The rumors were flying on who it might be. Could it be the girl whose boyfriend flew in from Wisconsin this past weekend? They are getting pretty serious... OR maybe it is the senior who went to her boyfriend's hometown for only ONE day this weekend. I mean why would they only go for ONE day unless it was the propose?? OR, we could get a ball from left field. It could be one of the freshmen who is so in love with her boyfriend that they couldn't wait! Never say never...
Around and around we go trying to pull out the weekend alibis for each potential Candlelight candidate. Trying to count out how many months and years couples have been together. Monitoring suspicious tweets and Facebook posts. Nothing is above a sorority girl trying to solve the Candlelight mystery before it is revealed.
By the time I post this, the riddle will be solved. I, Cameron Jones, will have been the recipient of a Candlelight. Hopefully, this was a surprise to everyone. I didn't tell a single soul, even after I had promised to tell specific people.... I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Once one person knows such an awesome secret, they are bound to slip and let the bouquet out of the bag.
I hope everyone forgives me and will hopefully understand! If you were unable to make the Candlelight, or perhaps wanted more details, I will tell they story again.
Thursday night, Rob Dale did his first attempt at proposing. Yes. First attempt. I said no. Not because I didn't want to marry him, but because the proposal wasn't up to par. Before you jump to conclusions or judge and deem me a stuck-up sorostitute, let me explain.
I have had a good 72 hours to simmer in this weekend's events. I have come to an articulated explanation that will hopefully give everyone some insight.
First off, sorority land has brainwashed me. I have witnessed many a Candlelights these past 4 years. I felt as if each proposal was magical, romantic, and better than the last! There are candles, Christmas lights, long speeches, family members present, significant dates or places involved, or even a romantic dinner.
Newsflash. Doesn't always happen like that. Well, this assumption on top of the background and nature of Rob Dale's and my relationship created the nasty proposal bubble that was burst on Thursday.
- Rob Dale and I have been dating for 16 months.
- We knew after 3 weeks that we loved each other and after 3 months that we were going to get married.
- I joked all the time about if my Candlelight story wasn't good enough, he would have to try again.
- I had seen the ring 2 weeks before and had been anticipating a proposal.
- All of factors must be taken into account to understand my somewhat harsh and unconventional reaction.
Fast-forward to Thursday night. I had just finished Eclipse at the Student Union. This was a required event, and I am not a big "watch movies in public" person. I hadn't showered that day and my sweatpants were less than attractive. At the end of the movie, Rob Dale sends me a text that states I need to meet him outside because he has something to show me. I start to panic. SURELY he isn't about to propose to me with all these Kappa Deltas around... What about my Candlelight?!
I didn't want to ruin his awesome surprise though! What if he had spelt out his entire proposal in Christmas lights or hired the marching band to play our song?! So, I gritted my teeth and hoped everyone would clear out before it happened.
As we walked through the gardens and down Greek Row, I talked about Jacob’s 9-pack from the movie. Literally. That was about 90% of the conversation. We also discussed MLZ shenanigans and all the food I had consumed during the movie. Incredibly romantic! The whole time I was becoming more and more anxious waiting for the Marching band or candles or monologue… Before I could blink, he stopped. I was still waiting… Perhaps a release of glowing doves? Then he said “Cameron Kylene Jones… Will you marry me?”
Wait? What? We were just talking about a werewolf’s abs and my horrible eating habits of the night. In a dazed stutter I replied, "I guess," but I was still stunned… Was that it? What was I going to tell people? What the heck just happened!? He knew I was disappointed and tried to explain to me that he just got nervous, but I was still in disbelief. I asked him if he would try again. He obviously agreed. (Rob Dale is such a trooper!) Unfortunately that was a rough night neither of us saw coming!
The next day I attempted to google, “What to do after you say no to a proposal from the guy you want to marry.” Not a trending topic folks. Apparently people don’t say no unless they aren’t willing to marry the schmuck who is on his knee. People don't say no if they don't like the proposal. They say yes because they are so overjoyed that another human being wants to spend forever and always with them. Go figure. So, a few plans-of-action went through my brain that Friday morning. Like, just proposing to him myself through a scavenger hunt! Or stealing the ring, making up a story, and doing a Candlelight without the re-try proposal. Or maybe I could just give him a game plan, and create the perfect proposal so I would have no room to complain. Like most irrational, dramatic thoughts of mine… These alternatives were deemed crazy by late afternoon. I decided to just wait it out. Have a little faith!
Saturday night, Rob Dale took me to dinner at the Sushi House. We ate a lovely meal and talked about the future. I figured this was round 2, so I had showered and looked like a soon-to-be-fiancé should. After a good dinner and even better conversation, he went into his romantic monologue. It was just as I had envisioned it and more. I confidently said yes to proposal two, and in Rob Dale’s words… “Was absolutely glowing.”
I think there are 2 morals to the story.
#1- Don’t let hype trump the meaning of your proposal. Men are super nervous, even when they know you’ll say yes! The fact that they want to spend the rest of their life with you, and just signed it away with a ring should be 98% of the meaning behind the proposal.
#2- Don’t settle. That other 2% is still important. Every guy has their own way of doing the proposal, so keep that in perspective. But, never feel ashamed or embarrassed to ask for what you want. If they love you, they will have no problem with obliging. It is a give and take world out there with relationships and I do not claim to be a expert, but from this past weekend, I know those two morals are truths.
Oh yeah! PS- We haven’t set a date! We are in no hurry and don’t be surprised if it happens in 2013.
For those who do not engage in sorority events, a Candlelight is a ritual done to reveal a sister's engagement. In our sorority, a cute little jingle is sung while the blazing bouquet is passed around the circle. The ceremony usually takes place after a chapter, allowing for a bulk of the membership to be in attendance.
Last night we had our first Candlelight of the semester. You would have thought it was a real-life game of Clue! The rumors were flying on who it might be. Could it be the girl whose boyfriend flew in from Wisconsin this past weekend? They are getting pretty serious... OR maybe it is the senior who went to her boyfriend's hometown for only ONE day this weekend. I mean why would they only go for ONE day unless it was the propose?? OR, we could get a ball from left field. It could be one of the freshmen who is so in love with her boyfriend that they couldn't wait! Never say never...
Around and around we go trying to pull out the weekend alibis for each potential Candlelight candidate. Trying to count out how many months and years couples have been together. Monitoring suspicious tweets and Facebook posts. Nothing is above a sorority girl trying to solve the Candlelight mystery before it is revealed.
By the time I post this, the riddle will be solved. I, Cameron Jones, will have been the recipient of a Candlelight. Hopefully, this was a surprise to everyone. I didn't tell a single soul, even after I had promised to tell specific people.... I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Once one person knows such an awesome secret, they are bound to slip and let the bouquet out of the bag.
I hope everyone forgives me and will hopefully understand! If you were unable to make the Candlelight, or perhaps wanted more details, I will tell they story again.
Thursday night, Rob Dale did his first attempt at proposing. Yes. First attempt. I said no. Not because I didn't want to marry him, but because the proposal wasn't up to par. Before you jump to conclusions or judge and deem me a stuck-up sorostitute, let me explain.
I have had a good 72 hours to simmer in this weekend's events. I have come to an articulated explanation that will hopefully give everyone some insight.
First off, sorority land has brainwashed me. I have witnessed many a Candlelights these past 4 years. I felt as if each proposal was magical, romantic, and better than the last! There are candles, Christmas lights, long speeches, family members present, significant dates or places involved, or even a romantic dinner.
Newsflash. Doesn't always happen like that. Well, this assumption on top of the background and nature of Rob Dale's and my relationship created the nasty proposal bubble that was burst on Thursday.
- Rob Dale and I have been dating for 16 months.
- We knew after 3 weeks that we loved each other and after 3 months that we were going to get married.
- I joked all the time about if my Candlelight story wasn't good enough, he would have to try again.
- I had seen the ring 2 weeks before and had been anticipating a proposal.
- All of factors must be taken into account to understand my somewhat harsh and unconventional reaction.
Fast-forward to Thursday night. I had just finished Eclipse at the Student Union. This was a required event, and I am not a big "watch movies in public" person. I hadn't showered that day and my sweatpants were less than attractive. At the end of the movie, Rob Dale sends me a text that states I need to meet him outside because he has something to show me. I start to panic. SURELY he isn't about to propose to me with all these Kappa Deltas around... What about my Candlelight?!
I didn't want to ruin his awesome surprise though! What if he had spelt out his entire proposal in Christmas lights or hired the marching band to play our song?! So, I gritted my teeth and hoped everyone would clear out before it happened.
As we walked through the gardens and down Greek Row, I talked about Jacob’s 9-pack from the movie. Literally. That was about 90% of the conversation. We also discussed MLZ shenanigans and all the food I had consumed during the movie. Incredibly romantic! The whole time I was becoming more and more anxious waiting for the Marching band or candles or monologue… Before I could blink, he stopped. I was still waiting… Perhaps a release of glowing doves? Then he said “Cameron Kylene Jones… Will you marry me?”
Wait? What? We were just talking about a werewolf’s abs and my horrible eating habits of the night. In a dazed stutter I replied, "I guess," but I was still stunned… Was that it? What was I going to tell people? What the heck just happened!? He knew I was disappointed and tried to explain to me that he just got nervous, but I was still in disbelief. I asked him if he would try again. He obviously agreed. (Rob Dale is such a trooper!) Unfortunately that was a rough night neither of us saw coming!
The next day I attempted to google, “What to do after you say no to a proposal from the guy you want to marry.” Not a trending topic folks. Apparently people don’t say no unless they aren’t willing to marry the schmuck who is on his knee. People don't say no if they don't like the proposal. They say yes because they are so overjoyed that another human being wants to spend forever and always with them. Go figure. So, a few plans-of-action went through my brain that Friday morning. Like, just proposing to him myself through a scavenger hunt! Or stealing the ring, making up a story, and doing a Candlelight without the re-try proposal. Or maybe I could just give him a game plan, and create the perfect proposal so I would have no room to complain. Like most irrational, dramatic thoughts of mine… These alternatives were deemed crazy by late afternoon. I decided to just wait it out. Have a little faith!
Saturday night, Rob Dale took me to dinner at the Sushi House. We ate a lovely meal and talked about the future. I figured this was round 2, so I had showered and looked like a soon-to-be-fiancé should. After a good dinner and even better conversation, he went into his romantic monologue. It was just as I had envisioned it and more. I confidently said yes to proposal two, and in Rob Dale’s words… “Was absolutely glowing.”
I think there are 2 morals to the story.
#1- Don’t let hype trump the meaning of your proposal. Men are super nervous, even when they know you’ll say yes! The fact that they want to spend the rest of their life with you, and just signed it away with a ring should be 98% of the meaning behind the proposal.
#2- Don’t settle. That other 2% is still important. Every guy has their own way of doing the proposal, so keep that in perspective. But, never feel ashamed or embarrassed to ask for what you want. If they love you, they will have no problem with obliging. It is a give and take world out there with relationships and I do not claim to be a expert, but from this past weekend, I know those two morals are truths.
Oh yeah! PS- We haven’t set a date! We are in no hurry and don’t be surprised if it happens in 2013.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Run, Girl, Run
One of my favorite past times in college is making the age-old trip to the Colvin Recreation Center. It is something that I dread doing, but it is a necessary evil. My biggest issue with the Colvin is the traffic that accumulates. Being fit is totally hip right now for college students. I feel like the only time I don't have to wait for a machine is on Game Day and Thursday nights.
There are a few people you run into at the Colvin. The most frequent visitors are the 'gazelles.' Those are more likely to be women, but a guy sneaks in every now and then. Basically a 'gazelle' is the person beside you on the elliptical/treadmill/stair stepper/bike who is going so fast, you are concerned they will fly off the machine. It is literally like watching a gazelle run from a pack of lions. Personally, I work out at the pace of an extinct do-do bird, meandering along at a 2.5 on a 0 incline. I can't help but wonder how someone is able to keep this up for 45 minutes. I am winded and ready for a nap after only 20 minutes of my workout... But gazelles.... Well the gazelles live for the hour of running with the lions.
Another character you might see at the Colvin is the busy-body. This person usually has head phones in one ear, a book out studying, and their iPhone cranked up on loud so they can take that super important phone call. I am completely fine with the multi-tasking until the actual phone call comes through. Side note: I hate extra noise when I am working out. Conversations, phone calls, extra music that is playing over the sound system, etc. With that being said, when that phone call comes through and the busy body answers, my skin crawls. There is nothing worse than trying to work out and listen to Dr. Phil on the TV with the extra noise from your Chatty Cathy neighbor. They never have a quiet voice, and always find a need to talk to the person on the other line for the next 15 minutes. I would like to make the friendly recommendation to leave the phone in the car. If you must bring it in, please keep it on vibrate... Only converse using texts. And if something can't wait, exit the building to avoid annoying your fellow work-outers. This might be the only time they can watch Dr. Phil! Think about it.
The final person I would like to discuss is the wishy-washy-work-outer. They are truly harmless, but might cause a distraction if you naturally watch people as a hobby. I am a self-proclaimed people watcher thanks to Joe Jones. Basically this is the scenario... I am watching Dr. Phil and working out at a moderate pace. I notice the person in front of me get on a machine. They have an odd color of workout pants, so I make a note and carry on with the "Cheaters" edition of Dr. Phil. About 3 minutes later, odd pants is getting off the machine... And moving to a different one. They start working out again. I begin to wonder if that was their plan or if they got bored or perhaps they decided biking was more efficient then running... Then about 3 minutes later they are on the stair stepper next to you. At this point Dr. Phil has lost all significance and your sole concentration is on this flippy flopper who can’t make up their mind!
Top 5 Cons about the Colvin Center
5. Too much to do, not enough time. The Colvin is a three story building crammed with almost anything you need. Indoor pool, outdoor pool, simulation golf, cardio, dance studio rooms, basketball/volleyball courts, racquetballs courts, weightlifting, track, ping pong, table pool, and I am sure I missed some. It is incredible the endless possibilities in that building… But I have only utilized maybe three things in the above list. I just don’t find time to go over and use the recreation part… I only do fitness. This is not good seeing as my fees are being used generously to make sure the volleyballs are aired and the pools have chemicals!
4. TV stations. I have never had a problem with the TV stations until about two weeks ago. Back in the separated room with cardio equipment, there used to be great generic stations. Now one of the TVs is set to TV Land. Black and white, old shows. Not exactly the motivating show I need. Shows either need to pump me up or distract me from the constant motto running through my brain while in the Colvin—“Am I done yet?” TV Land shows don’t motivate me; in fact, they are the exact opposite. They make me want to leave, so hopefully the Colvin will change that soon!
3. Spin Class. AKA boot camp on a bike. I have never actually partaken in this class, but I sometimes work out while the class is going on. Let me tell you, they aren’t playing over there. I bet Lance Armstrong would have trouble keeping up on the stationary bike. You know it’s bad when you are cranking up the levels on your treadmill because her screams are just terrifying that you forget you are not on a bike OR in the class… You don’t have to follow her instructions.
2. Germ Prevention. I know you might judge me for this, but it’s the truth. I don’t clean my machine off with the wipes. Before you exit out of my blog and deem me as an unfit person who has no respect for a clean and healthy lifestyle, let me explain. I believe the wipes are a great thing for those who sweat profusely, or sneeze on their machine, or touch it constantly while working out… BUT I do none of the above. I push the buttons to start it, and then walk. I don’t sweat very much, and when I do, I don’t wipe it off onto the machine. There is no more going on between the machine and I then what I would do with a door knob or even the keyboard I am typing with in a computer lab. You don’t see wipes around every public place where common germs are spread… So in MY case, I don’t believe wasting a wipe (go green) is necessary. The rumor is that the Colvin Center cleans the machines on the hour, and that is good enough for me!
1. No Diet Coke allowed. Diet Coke is my water, so working out leaves me really parched with nothing to extinguish it with until I’ve exited the building. Thank goodness Quench Buds is only a few minutes away! Jumbo Diet Coke, please!
You may be wondering, “Cameron, this is a Greek blog… Where the heck is the Greek in this post?!” Touché dedicated reader, but don’t fret… I have a Greek shout out. I can remember about three semesters back when one of my sisters proposed an interesting idea. In her opinion, the Colvin was the best place to do PR outreach. She thought it would be an awesome idea to make a t-shirt. (In Greek World, t-shirts are solutions to many of our dilemmas.) T-shirt Idea=[Greek House Here] <3 the Colvin. “Make it a frat tank!” she cried. The entire time I stare at her while mulling the idea in my head. My sister has a good point, the Colvin is a good place to rock your letters, BUT making a specific t-shirt may be overkill. The next time you go into the Colvin, look around at the shirts your peers wear. I am willing to bet at least a third of the people are wearing some kind of letters. Greeks love wearing letters because that is all they have in their t-shirt wardrobe. This is painfully obvious at the Colvin when a t-shirt is a must. I think IFC and Panhellenic should consider incorporating the Colvin into Greek Week… We could all use a little ‘healthy competition.’ =)
PS- I completely support and endorse the use of the Colvin for both fitness and recreational uses. It is a wonderful facility with great staff. Live it, love it. Go health!
There are a few people you run into at the Colvin. The most frequent visitors are the 'gazelles.' Those are more likely to be women, but a guy sneaks in every now and then. Basically a 'gazelle' is the person beside you on the elliptical/treadmill/stair stepper/bike who is going so fast, you are concerned they will fly off the machine. It is literally like watching a gazelle run from a pack of lions. Personally, I work out at the pace of an extinct do-do bird, meandering along at a 2.5 on a 0 incline. I can't help but wonder how someone is able to keep this up for 45 minutes. I am winded and ready for a nap after only 20 minutes of my workout... But gazelles.... Well the gazelles live for the hour of running with the lions.
Another character you might see at the Colvin is the busy-body. This person usually has head phones in one ear, a book out studying, and their iPhone cranked up on loud so they can take that super important phone call. I am completely fine with the multi-tasking until the actual phone call comes through. Side note: I hate extra noise when I am working out. Conversations, phone calls, extra music that is playing over the sound system, etc. With that being said, when that phone call comes through and the busy body answers, my skin crawls. There is nothing worse than trying to work out and listen to Dr. Phil on the TV with the extra noise from your Chatty Cathy neighbor. They never have a quiet voice, and always find a need to talk to the person on the other line for the next 15 minutes. I would like to make the friendly recommendation to leave the phone in the car. If you must bring it in, please keep it on vibrate... Only converse using texts. And if something can't wait, exit the building to avoid annoying your fellow work-outers. This might be the only time they can watch Dr. Phil! Think about it.
The final person I would like to discuss is the wishy-washy-work-outer. They are truly harmless, but might cause a distraction if you naturally watch people as a hobby. I am a self-proclaimed people watcher thanks to Joe Jones. Basically this is the scenario... I am watching Dr. Phil and working out at a moderate pace. I notice the person in front of me get on a machine. They have an odd color of workout pants, so I make a note and carry on with the "Cheaters" edition of Dr. Phil. About 3 minutes later, odd pants is getting off the machine... And moving to a different one. They start working out again. I begin to wonder if that was their plan or if they got bored or perhaps they decided biking was more efficient then running... Then about 3 minutes later they are on the stair stepper next to you. At this point Dr. Phil has lost all significance and your sole concentration is on this flippy flopper who can’t make up their mind!
Top 5 Cons about the Colvin Center
5. Too much to do, not enough time. The Colvin is a three story building crammed with almost anything you need. Indoor pool, outdoor pool, simulation golf, cardio, dance studio rooms, basketball/volleyball courts, racquetballs courts, weightlifting, track, ping pong, table pool, and I am sure I missed some. It is incredible the endless possibilities in that building… But I have only utilized maybe three things in the above list. I just don’t find time to go over and use the recreation part… I only do fitness. This is not good seeing as my fees are being used generously to make sure the volleyballs are aired and the pools have chemicals!
4. TV stations. I have never had a problem with the TV stations until about two weeks ago. Back in the separated room with cardio equipment, there used to be great generic stations. Now one of the TVs is set to TV Land. Black and white, old shows. Not exactly the motivating show I need. Shows either need to pump me up or distract me from the constant motto running through my brain while in the Colvin—“Am I done yet?” TV Land shows don’t motivate me; in fact, they are the exact opposite. They make me want to leave, so hopefully the Colvin will change that soon!
3. Spin Class. AKA boot camp on a bike. I have never actually partaken in this class, but I sometimes work out while the class is going on. Let me tell you, they aren’t playing over there. I bet Lance Armstrong would have trouble keeping up on the stationary bike. You know it’s bad when you are cranking up the levels on your treadmill because her screams are just terrifying that you forget you are not on a bike OR in the class… You don’t have to follow her instructions.
2. Germ Prevention. I know you might judge me for this, but it’s the truth. I don’t clean my machine off with the wipes. Before you exit out of my blog and deem me as an unfit person who has no respect for a clean and healthy lifestyle, let me explain. I believe the wipes are a great thing for those who sweat profusely, or sneeze on their machine, or touch it constantly while working out… BUT I do none of the above. I push the buttons to start it, and then walk. I don’t sweat very much, and when I do, I don’t wipe it off onto the machine. There is no more going on between the machine and I then what I would do with a door knob or even the keyboard I am typing with in a computer lab. You don’t see wipes around every public place where common germs are spread… So in MY case, I don’t believe wasting a wipe (go green) is necessary. The rumor is that the Colvin Center cleans the machines on the hour, and that is good enough for me!
1. No Diet Coke allowed. Diet Coke is my water, so working out leaves me really parched with nothing to extinguish it with until I’ve exited the building. Thank goodness Quench Buds is only a few minutes away! Jumbo Diet Coke, please!
You may be wondering, “Cameron, this is a Greek blog… Where the heck is the Greek in this post?!” Touché dedicated reader, but don’t fret… I have a Greek shout out. I can remember about three semesters back when one of my sisters proposed an interesting idea. In her opinion, the Colvin was the best place to do PR outreach. She thought it would be an awesome idea to make a t-shirt. (In Greek World, t-shirts are solutions to many of our dilemmas.) T-shirt Idea=[Greek House Here] <3 the Colvin. “Make it a frat tank!” she cried. The entire time I stare at her while mulling the idea in my head. My sister has a good point, the Colvin is a good place to rock your letters, BUT making a specific t-shirt may be overkill. The next time you go into the Colvin, look around at the shirts your peers wear. I am willing to bet at least a third of the people are wearing some kind of letters. Greeks love wearing letters because that is all they have in their t-shirt wardrobe. This is painfully obvious at the Colvin when a t-shirt is a must. I think IFC and Panhellenic should consider incorporating the Colvin into Greek Week… We could all use a little ‘healthy competition.’ =)
PS- I completely support and endorse the use of the Colvin for both fitness and recreational uses. It is a wonderful facility with great staff. Live it, love it. Go health!
Monday, September 27, 2010
B/L
Last week a mile stone was hit for our new members and sophomores. A little event called Big/Little took place. For the non-Greeks out there, big/little may be something completely over your head. I have realized over the past three years that it is nearly impossible to explain the random relationships that are forced together in the sorority including the big/little match up. I will attempt one time to describe this, and then we will have to move on. Pray that my explanation be adequate enough to get you through my post.
Back in the day, one of the Panhellenic Sororities decided that being sisters wasn’t enough. Making friendships the normal way just wasn’t cutting it. They yearned for a single member to be extra close with, and they wanted it to be exclusive and proclaimed throughout the entire chapter. This sorority determined the solution to the hole in their heart and ego was a concept named Big/Little.
Every incoming freshmen pledge class member (littles) would be paired up with a member of the sophomore pledge class (bigs). Sometimes there would be too many new members and a sophomore (big) would need to take two freshmen (littles). This situation would make the two littles, ‘twins.’ Confused yet? Well, let’s add in the bigs of bigs and how that relates to littles on down the road… Then you get Gs, GGs, and even GGGs. The Gs stand for Grand and Great Grand. (Similar to your grandfather and great grandfather.) If you are still following, I will throw the final curve ball at you. When twins happen in a family, it is like a normal family tree. Aunts and cousins are created which results in a monstrous family. Greeks have their own genealogy. Go figure. And just like a normal family, you don’t always get along and you sometimes don’t get to choose the members.
In our sorority, we have a kind of pseudo coke date slash recruitment system for the new members and sophomores to get to know each other. They call the coke date piece of this organized phenomenon, Nu Friend dates. Someone pairs the two classes randomly and it is the sophomores’ responsibility to take the freshmen out and get to know them through a remedial activity. During these weeks leading up to Big/Little, preffing is happening (thus the mini rush part of the system). Both sides are choosing their top three choices for big and little. Then some magical committee called the pairers, take this information and put together big/littles. It is all very “Wizard of Oz,” don’t look behind the curtain, mysteriousness.
The best part about our big/little is the surprise reveal. Sophomores are told(less than a week in advance) who their little will be and when big/little is taking place. Hopefully they have been ‘getting their craft on’ prior to this, because, like EVERY sorority event, there are presents involved in big/little. These presents include homemade letters of our house, a family tree, usually a teddy bear, canvases, picture frames, our secret letters, candy, random things with their name, etc. Usually you can’t just run down to the craft store and buy most of the items customized for your little. Luckily we do have some specialty stores… Chuck’s and Woodworx. These two stores are the Mecca for sorority women wishing to craft their love. Anything can be found in these stores in relation to wood cutouts for the presents. After you attain your foundational pieces, the next stop is usually Hobby Lobby for your staple items like paint, scrap book paper, bedazzles, stickers, brushes, and mod podge.
Once the items are purchased, the hardest part appears… Actually creating and making these crafty presents. It is sometimes daunting. If you haven’t become acquainted with a very special adhesive called mod podge, then you are already behind in the game. My roommates were in the midst of making big/little presents last week, and I felt like a Hobby Lobby consultant showing them the tricks of the trade. The ways to make sure you don’t have bubbles when you cover wood with scrapbook paper. The art of using sparkles and glitter in a mature way. Painting on mod podge in a manner that will protect your present but not interfere with the pouring process… It was intense. The craft caddy was in full gear last week!
When the night finally arrives, families gather in the same shirts representative of their family personality. The gifts are posted up in the most glamorous ways as if a National craft show was about to take place. Clues for the scavenger hunt are dispersed throughout the house waiting for the future littles to come bursting through the door. And don’t forget the creepy party pix guy insisting you take one more picture. The anticipation and anxiety of the past 4-6 weeks culminates to this one event. As the doors open, the screams begin and before you can count to 10… It is all ended with the big and little in each other’s arms.
How magical right? It might be safe to assume that big/little is the best thing since sliced bread. It is easy to think that every pair works out perfectly and lives happily ever after, but don’t jump to conclusions. After it is all said and done, big/little is merely a piece of the puzzle in the sorority. Most women try to make it the end all for their sorority experience. They live and die by the big/little pairing. Putting any kind of high expectations on any relationship is never recommended! This is no different…
It can be great, don’t get me wrong. I have seen big/little pairs who become BFF’s and are inseparable. I have also seen pairs who are crushed when their big/little aspirations don’t pan out. I won’t lie, there are random pairings. Random in the sense that perhaps the new big/little pair didn’t pref each other or they may not have met until Big Little Night... but planned because the pairers know their personalities. They always try to do matches to the best of their abilities based on the information they have. There are even cases where some big/little pairs thought they loved each other during preffing and ended up having a terrible relationship after a semester of being together. It is merely a flip of a coin in my opinion.
The take home message… Big/Little pairs are a wonderful piece of the puzzle in the sorority experience; however, they do NOT dictate or control any part of your sorority experience. They are merely another relationship made in the web of relationships Greek life offers its members.
Back in the day, one of the Panhellenic Sororities decided that being sisters wasn’t enough. Making friendships the normal way just wasn’t cutting it. They yearned for a single member to be extra close with, and they wanted it to be exclusive and proclaimed throughout the entire chapter. This sorority determined the solution to the hole in their heart and ego was a concept named Big/Little.
Every incoming freshmen pledge class member (littles) would be paired up with a member of the sophomore pledge class (bigs). Sometimes there would be too many new members and a sophomore (big) would need to take two freshmen (littles). This situation would make the two littles, ‘twins.’ Confused yet? Well, let’s add in the bigs of bigs and how that relates to littles on down the road… Then you get Gs, GGs, and even GGGs. The Gs stand for Grand and Great Grand. (Similar to your grandfather and great grandfather.) If you are still following, I will throw the final curve ball at you. When twins happen in a family, it is like a normal family tree. Aunts and cousins are created which results in a monstrous family. Greeks have their own genealogy. Go figure. And just like a normal family, you don’t always get along and you sometimes don’t get to choose the members.
In our sorority, we have a kind of pseudo coke date slash recruitment system for the new members and sophomores to get to know each other. They call the coke date piece of this organized phenomenon, Nu Friend dates. Someone pairs the two classes randomly and it is the sophomores’ responsibility to take the freshmen out and get to know them through a remedial activity. During these weeks leading up to Big/Little, preffing is happening (thus the mini rush part of the system). Both sides are choosing their top three choices for big and little. Then some magical committee called the pairers, take this information and put together big/littles. It is all very “Wizard of Oz,” don’t look behind the curtain, mysteriousness.
The best part about our big/little is the surprise reveal. Sophomores are told(less than a week in advance) who their little will be and when big/little is taking place. Hopefully they have been ‘getting their craft on’ prior to this, because, like EVERY sorority event, there are presents involved in big/little. These presents include homemade letters of our house, a family tree, usually a teddy bear, canvases, picture frames, our secret letters, candy, random things with their name, etc. Usually you can’t just run down to the craft store and buy most of the items customized for your little. Luckily we do have some specialty stores… Chuck’s and Woodworx. These two stores are the Mecca for sorority women wishing to craft their love. Anything can be found in these stores in relation to wood cutouts for the presents. After you attain your foundational pieces, the next stop is usually Hobby Lobby for your staple items like paint, scrap book paper, bedazzles, stickers, brushes, and mod podge.
Once the items are purchased, the hardest part appears… Actually creating and making these crafty presents. It is sometimes daunting. If you haven’t become acquainted with a very special adhesive called mod podge, then you are already behind in the game. My roommates were in the midst of making big/little presents last week, and I felt like a Hobby Lobby consultant showing them the tricks of the trade. The ways to make sure you don’t have bubbles when you cover wood with scrapbook paper. The art of using sparkles and glitter in a mature way. Painting on mod podge in a manner that will protect your present but not interfere with the pouring process… It was intense. The craft caddy was in full gear last week!
When the night finally arrives, families gather in the same shirts representative of their family personality. The gifts are posted up in the most glamorous ways as if a National craft show was about to take place. Clues for the scavenger hunt are dispersed throughout the house waiting for the future littles to come bursting through the door. And don’t forget the creepy party pix guy insisting you take one more picture. The anticipation and anxiety of the past 4-6 weeks culminates to this one event. As the doors open, the screams begin and before you can count to 10… It is all ended with the big and little in each other’s arms.
How magical right? It might be safe to assume that big/little is the best thing since sliced bread. It is easy to think that every pair works out perfectly and lives happily ever after, but don’t jump to conclusions. After it is all said and done, big/little is merely a piece of the puzzle in the sorority. Most women try to make it the end all for their sorority experience. They live and die by the big/little pairing. Putting any kind of high expectations on any relationship is never recommended! This is no different…
It can be great, don’t get me wrong. I have seen big/little pairs who become BFF’s and are inseparable. I have also seen pairs who are crushed when their big/little aspirations don’t pan out. I won’t lie, there are random pairings. Random in the sense that perhaps the new big/little pair didn’t pref each other or they may not have met until Big Little Night... but planned because the pairers know their personalities. They always try to do matches to the best of their abilities based on the information they have. There are even cases where some big/little pairs thought they loved each other during preffing and ended up having a terrible relationship after a semester of being together. It is merely a flip of a coin in my opinion.
The take home message… Big/Little pairs are a wonderful piece of the puzzle in the sorority experience; however, they do NOT dictate or control any part of your sorority experience. They are merely another relationship made in the web of relationships Greek life offers its members.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Shop Till You Drop
I have survived my first ‘shopping only’ trip to Dallas, TX. Before yesterday, I have never been a part of a trip whose sole mission was to shop. I have been on many of trips where I had a specific purpose and shopping is a secondary phenomenon that follows. With that being said, the idea of a 'shopping only' trip wasn’t a totally foreign concept… My mom has been on many adventures and I knew of some rich high school classmates who traveled out of state to shop, but never EVER did I think I would agree to such a bizarre concept. I blame my compliance to the Sorority Hangover, and desperation for one last hurrah before school consumed my life!
Shopping is one of the most stressful activities in my book. It is right behind final exams and driving in rush hour traffic. To me, shopping is like opening up your wallet and lighting it on fire. It is SO expensive! And don’t try to pull out that whole ‘bargain shopping’ nonsense! I believe it takes twice as much time and energy to find the worth while deals and bargains, thus leading me to another reason why I loathe shopping… It is time consuming and zaps my energy! I wear down very easily, especially if I have to try on three sizes and two different styles of dress pants only to be told that they’d have to order the correct style and size online, but don’t worry! They’d ship it to my house for free. Awesome…
So there is this place in Dallas called the Galleria… Its like a mall on steroids. There are stores in there that I have only seen in movies like Tiffany’s & Co, Betsy Johnson, Gucci, Juicy Couture, and Saks Fifth Avenue. I probably walked around the mall for the first 10 minutes with my mouth hanging open. My fellow shoppers most likely thought I was some Midwestern redneck, fresh out of her double wide trailer, but seriously y’all… I didn’t know those stores existed anywhere but in Hollywood and New York City. Besides all the extremely hip and fashionable stores, there was an ice rink in the bottom of the mall, valet parking for anyone willing to pay $7, escalators EVERYWHERE, a Forever 21 with TWO floors, and numerous high class restaurants. I am pretty sure if I ever make it to Mall of America, my brain will explode.
My shopping outfit of choice is a sorority t-shirt and Nike shorts with the classic black Old Navy flip-flops. This get-up is versatile and comfortable. It allows me to power shop to the fullest; however, it must also exude an air of poorness. For some reason when I entered Tiffany’s & Co, the fancy-shmancey clerks didn’t give me the time of day! I had my heart set on trying on some engagement rings or even the famous Tiffany’s bracelet, but there was no way that was happening. The security guard was the only person making conversation with me… Maybe so he could easily identify me in a line up if I were to try and steal something... Mental note: Dress to impress, EVEN when shopping… The whole situation felt like a scene out of Pretty Woman. I was lucky enough to be playing Miss Julia Roberts herself; however, Richard Geer wasn’t hovering outside ready to save me from the snooty clerks.
We closed down the mall yesterday, and ended up feeling hungry for dinner around 9 pm. Apparently there is NO time for eating when you are power shopping… Frankly, the only thing I actually craved during this extravaganza was a Starbucks pick-me-up. If that didn’t make me look like the ultimate sorostitute brat-- Banana Republic bag in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the other?! So basically the Jones women were starving, and we decided that Pappa Deaux was the best ending to our long day. It was after we finished a lovely dinner and dragged ourselves up to the hotel room that I came to a gut-wrenching realization. I had spent 3 hours in the most extravagant mall I had yet to encounter and had NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT! Oh wait… Wait a second. Yes, I did. I had one purchase to prove that I had been to the Galleria… Any guesses? Two pairs of Toms? Nope! Those are my sisters. A dress with some tights? Nah, those are for my second cousin… A stick of eyeliner? Yeah! That’s right! I had splurged on ONE measly stick of purple eyeliner. A 17 dollar stick of eyeliner… I could have bought 4 eyeliners at Wal-Mart for that price, but the salesman swore by the brand. Thank God he convinced me to buy it, or I would have absolutely nothing to prove that I had been power shopping at THE Galleria… Even typing this anecdote right now kind of burns my biscuits… It’s not like my mom and sister weren’t shopping at every store! What the heck had I been doing? Obviously just toting around all our purchases and assuming that they were mine! Jeeza Louiza…
A personal favorite stop was the American Girl store. I felt kind of out of place without a doll to tote around, but that didn’t stop my sister and I from rushing display to display checking out the latest and greatest accessories. Some of my top picks were: a Tree House, a mini replica of Jiffy pop and an 8 track player, a pet bunny rabbit, a miniature working flute, and a claw foot bath tub equipped with pink bubbles. Those “American Girl” dolls are more comfortable and well off than any normal girl in America right now! While marveling at all the neat accessories, I stumbled on an ugly truth… Poor Samantha (my American Girl doll) had been ‘vaulted.’ ‘Vaulted’ is just a nice way of saying she was not selling well and thus was discontinued. No more Samantha or all her cool, old era stuff! Nope, the blond, longhaired hippie named Julie had taken her place. Since Samantha was history, I felt like it was ONLY fitting to buy a new doll… Just kidding! But I honestly considered purchasing Lanie.
Another store that stuck out in my mind was an assorted shop called Sam Moon. My mom and sister always raved about the neat deals they find there, and occasionally even bring me a souvenir from the store, so I was pumped to see it for myself. First impression as I opened the door—Hoarders: Jewelry and Purses Edition. There was merchandise EVERYWHERE. In stacks, in bins, on the wall, in aisles, on the floor, and in every nook and cranny. I began to walk around and immediately spotted the latest craze in middle schools and apparently my sorority: Crazy Bands. They are these colored bands that you can put on your wrists or ankles. Not only are they colored but they are also in random shapes. Currently I am wearing a rocket ship, a house, and a monkey, BUT you would never know because they are stretchy. This was my first grab because I felt like only the cool kids had access to the crazy bands, and I didn’t want to feel out of the loop. After grabbing my first purchase I began to browse the outer isles… Before I could get very far, I was on my hands and knees rifling through a pile of packaged duffle bags. I wanted to find the mossy oak one that was on display! After getting through the first 15, I was rudely interrupted by a sales associate. He scolded me and insisted that I quit my search… I was terribly confused. Why couldn’t I try and find my duffle? I couldn’t even request his assistance, because he vanished as quickly as he had appeared. I was instantly annoyed… Why can’t I shop in peace, dang it?! This happened more than once in the store. The sales associates must have thought I was up to some serious shenanigans, because they wouldn’t stop messing with me. While Sam Moon had some wickedly great deals and products, skip the actual store experience! Go ahead and just make the simple trip online; the shipping and handling is worth the ease of shopping without the heckling of sales associates.
Trip Fun Fact: Before we even left the Oklahoma border, we already had stopped and shopped at 2 stores. I thought we had spent enough after those two stops to go ahead and turn around and head back to Edmond. My sister and mom thought my logic was cute, and recommended I go ahead and buckle up for the wild shopping roller coaster that was about to ensue. After day one of shopping, I was convinced the house would be repossessed by the time we got home. Again, my mom and sister tried to calm my fears by expressing that we only did this once a year… AND we have a lot of extra funds now that we don’t play softball or raise livestock. I tried to believe those weak words of comfort, but could only envision myself taking on a night job at the Dragon’s Lair to pay off the Nordstrom’s bill.
Besides the massive panic attacks I had after finishing at each check out line, I would call this two day hiatus shopping trip completely successful. I am leaving the Lone Star state with some new outfits, a fair amount of accessories, and a pig shaped bowl (don’t ask). I also have pocketed some great, FREE memories with my mom and sister. It is crazy to think that my mom now has an empty nest, and that my little sister is starting her freshmen year at college come Monday morning. Time is beginning to truly slip away, and girls’ trips like this will be fewer and fewer. Sadly enough, I am guilty of not always soaking up and appreciating the family bonding. When opportunities like this are gone and I only have the memories of my mom and sister to bring a smile to my face, I hope they all are as happy and precious as the past two days have been.
Shopping is one of the most stressful activities in my book. It is right behind final exams and driving in rush hour traffic. To me, shopping is like opening up your wallet and lighting it on fire. It is SO expensive! And don’t try to pull out that whole ‘bargain shopping’ nonsense! I believe it takes twice as much time and energy to find the worth while deals and bargains, thus leading me to another reason why I loathe shopping… It is time consuming and zaps my energy! I wear down very easily, especially if I have to try on three sizes and two different styles of dress pants only to be told that they’d have to order the correct style and size online, but don’t worry! They’d ship it to my house for free. Awesome…
So there is this place in Dallas called the Galleria… Its like a mall on steroids. There are stores in there that I have only seen in movies like Tiffany’s & Co, Betsy Johnson, Gucci, Juicy Couture, and Saks Fifth Avenue. I probably walked around the mall for the first 10 minutes with my mouth hanging open. My fellow shoppers most likely thought I was some Midwestern redneck, fresh out of her double wide trailer, but seriously y’all… I didn’t know those stores existed anywhere but in Hollywood and New York City. Besides all the extremely hip and fashionable stores, there was an ice rink in the bottom of the mall, valet parking for anyone willing to pay $7, escalators EVERYWHERE, a Forever 21 with TWO floors, and numerous high class restaurants. I am pretty sure if I ever make it to Mall of America, my brain will explode.
My shopping outfit of choice is a sorority t-shirt and Nike shorts with the classic black Old Navy flip-flops. This get-up is versatile and comfortable. It allows me to power shop to the fullest; however, it must also exude an air of poorness. For some reason when I entered Tiffany’s & Co, the fancy-shmancey clerks didn’t give me the time of day! I had my heart set on trying on some engagement rings or even the famous Tiffany’s bracelet, but there was no way that was happening. The security guard was the only person making conversation with me… Maybe so he could easily identify me in a line up if I were to try and steal something... Mental note: Dress to impress, EVEN when shopping… The whole situation felt like a scene out of Pretty Woman. I was lucky enough to be playing Miss Julia Roberts herself; however, Richard Geer wasn’t hovering outside ready to save me from the snooty clerks.
We closed down the mall yesterday, and ended up feeling hungry for dinner around 9 pm. Apparently there is NO time for eating when you are power shopping… Frankly, the only thing I actually craved during this extravaganza was a Starbucks pick-me-up. If that didn’t make me look like the ultimate sorostitute brat-- Banana Republic bag in one hand and a Starbucks cup in the other?! So basically the Jones women were starving, and we decided that Pappa Deaux was the best ending to our long day. It was after we finished a lovely dinner and dragged ourselves up to the hotel room that I came to a gut-wrenching realization. I had spent 3 hours in the most extravagant mall I had yet to encounter and had NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT! Oh wait… Wait a second. Yes, I did. I had one purchase to prove that I had been to the Galleria… Any guesses? Two pairs of Toms? Nope! Those are my sisters. A dress with some tights? Nah, those are for my second cousin… A stick of eyeliner? Yeah! That’s right! I had splurged on ONE measly stick of purple eyeliner. A 17 dollar stick of eyeliner… I could have bought 4 eyeliners at Wal-Mart for that price, but the salesman swore by the brand. Thank God he convinced me to buy it, or I would have absolutely nothing to prove that I had been power shopping at THE Galleria… Even typing this anecdote right now kind of burns my biscuits… It’s not like my mom and sister weren’t shopping at every store! What the heck had I been doing? Obviously just toting around all our purchases and assuming that they were mine! Jeeza Louiza…
A personal favorite stop was the American Girl store. I felt kind of out of place without a doll to tote around, but that didn’t stop my sister and I from rushing display to display checking out the latest and greatest accessories. Some of my top picks were: a Tree House, a mini replica of Jiffy pop and an 8 track player, a pet bunny rabbit, a miniature working flute, and a claw foot bath tub equipped with pink bubbles. Those “American Girl” dolls are more comfortable and well off than any normal girl in America right now! While marveling at all the neat accessories, I stumbled on an ugly truth… Poor Samantha (my American Girl doll) had been ‘vaulted.’ ‘Vaulted’ is just a nice way of saying she was not selling well and thus was discontinued. No more Samantha or all her cool, old era stuff! Nope, the blond, longhaired hippie named Julie had taken her place. Since Samantha was history, I felt like it was ONLY fitting to buy a new doll… Just kidding! But I honestly considered purchasing Lanie.
Another store that stuck out in my mind was an assorted shop called Sam Moon. My mom and sister always raved about the neat deals they find there, and occasionally even bring me a souvenir from the store, so I was pumped to see it for myself. First impression as I opened the door—Hoarders: Jewelry and Purses Edition. There was merchandise EVERYWHERE. In stacks, in bins, on the wall, in aisles, on the floor, and in every nook and cranny. I began to walk around and immediately spotted the latest craze in middle schools and apparently my sorority: Crazy Bands. They are these colored bands that you can put on your wrists or ankles. Not only are they colored but they are also in random shapes. Currently I am wearing a rocket ship, a house, and a monkey, BUT you would never know because they are stretchy. This was my first grab because I felt like only the cool kids had access to the crazy bands, and I didn’t want to feel out of the loop. After grabbing my first purchase I began to browse the outer isles… Before I could get very far, I was on my hands and knees rifling through a pile of packaged duffle bags. I wanted to find the mossy oak one that was on display! After getting through the first 15, I was rudely interrupted by a sales associate. He scolded me and insisted that I quit my search… I was terribly confused. Why couldn’t I try and find my duffle? I couldn’t even request his assistance, because he vanished as quickly as he had appeared. I was instantly annoyed… Why can’t I shop in peace, dang it?! This happened more than once in the store. The sales associates must have thought I was up to some serious shenanigans, because they wouldn’t stop messing with me. While Sam Moon had some wickedly great deals and products, skip the actual store experience! Go ahead and just make the simple trip online; the shipping and handling is worth the ease of shopping without the heckling of sales associates.
Trip Fun Fact: Before we even left the Oklahoma border, we already had stopped and shopped at 2 stores. I thought we had spent enough after those two stops to go ahead and turn around and head back to Edmond. My sister and mom thought my logic was cute, and recommended I go ahead and buckle up for the wild shopping roller coaster that was about to ensue. After day one of shopping, I was convinced the house would be repossessed by the time we got home. Again, my mom and sister tried to calm my fears by expressing that we only did this once a year… AND we have a lot of extra funds now that we don’t play softball or raise livestock. I tried to believe those weak words of comfort, but could only envision myself taking on a night job at the Dragon’s Lair to pay off the Nordstrom’s bill.
Besides the massive panic attacks I had after finishing at each check out line, I would call this two day hiatus shopping trip completely successful. I am leaving the Lone Star state with some new outfits, a fair amount of accessories, and a pig shaped bowl (don’t ask). I also have pocketed some great, FREE memories with my mom and sister. It is crazy to think that my mom now has an empty nest, and that my little sister is starting her freshmen year at college come Monday morning. Time is beginning to truly slip away, and girls’ trips like this will be fewer and fewer. Sadly enough, I am guilty of not always soaking up and appreciating the family bonding. When opportunities like this are gone and I only have the memories of my mom and sister to bring a smile to my face, I hope they all are as happy and precious as the past two days have been.
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