Only 6 days until I move back in! I’m so excited. I think my new roommate Katherine and I will have a great time, and I’ve been planning so that our dorm will look AWESOME next year. I’m living in Simplot, which should be great. I’m very happy that it’s close to the dining hall (though that won’t help me in keeping the Freshman Fifteen…or maybe the Sophomore Sixteen away). I am a little worried about getting lost inside because it’s a maze in there. But I’m sure I will learn my way around quickly. I’m going to be on the third floor again, which I am so happy about.
A whole two years ago, when I was headed into my freshmen year, I tried to adopt the policy of saying “yes.” As in, I would say yes to whatever new experience was being offered up. Do you want to go rafting? Yes. Do you want to join a sorority? Yes. Do you want to go to this concert? Yes. Do you want to jump into this lake? Yes. Do you want to hang out and eat chips and salsa? Yes. Do you want to go to this party? Yes. Do you want to volunteer at this event? Yes. Do you want to write this article? Yes.
Aside from a torrent of Facebook posts about people trickling back into Caldwell, another sure sign of impending return is the coming and going of the first Coyote deadline.
Wednesday morning was the deadline appointed by our new Editor in Chief, Skylar Barsanti. Skylar happens to be one of my sorority sisters, as well as a London compatriot, and I’m excited to see where she takes the paper this year.
In the Japanese religion of Shinto, a great emphasis is made on cleanliness and purity, with various elements and events contributing to the purity not only of the individual, but of the individual's surroundings. One of the most major catastrophies in Shinto is death, said to be the most impure of all things. A house in which a death has occurred must be scrubbed from top to bottom to appease the spirits and prevent further spiritual damage.
My junior year is looking a lot closer this side of July, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that summer vacation is now on a time limit. In some ways, this is similar to my days playing in chess tournaments as a middle schooler--a friend and I will be playing a nice, slow-paced game, thinking hard about our next moves, when suddenly a tall, graying man in a suit slaps a clock on your right side, reminding you that you don't have all day and that you better make the most of what you have left.
The other day, I got a text from a school acquaintance asking after my fall schedule. I replied, and the inquirer made the discovery I think she wanted to find, namely that she and I would likely be in the same literature seminar. She was enthusiastic about the commonality because I think she had been worried about where to sit. Or more accurately, who to sit with.