Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Craft Safety 101

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.

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!

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

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.

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.

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 fiancĂ©’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.