I've lost count of how many times I've been mistaken for a music major because of how much time I devote to the various choirs found on campus. I suppose I can't blame them, seeing as I'm literally in every single choir the college offers, measuring out to at least one hour of rehearsals every Monday through Friday. That's a lot of free time to anything, let alone something completely outside your major.
Despite the newly arrived fall temperatures, Friday night found many a student out and about wearing “anything but clothes.” The occasion: the annual ABC party, “ABC” being the proud acronym for “anything but clothes.” But fear not, rather than inspiring a new nudist colony in Caldwell, ABC tends to bring out the hidden costume designer in all of us.
Case in point: my friend Miguel has spent the last two weeks helping out some of our other friends plan and create their outfits. Last night, I camped out with Diana and Miguel while they created Diana’s cereal box dress.
Last year as a freshman, I was one of the lucky ones that managed to get a single room. To be honest, it was a relief knowing that I'd always have someplace to myself, an area where I could just lock a door and not worry about being barged in on. I didn't need to worry about a roommate waking me up early in the morning, stealing my stuff, or just being generally creepy five feet from where I slept. Having that single was a security blanket, one I'm glad I had.
Dancing is not something I’m really good at. I’m not very coordinated, maybe that’s why I’m a runner. I’ve always admired dancers, though, and have always wanted to learn how to dance. You never know when being good at dancing will come in handy. Also, it feels like it’s been a really long time since I’ve learned anything completely new. Most things I’ve learned in recent years have just been an elaboration of something I already know how to do...like read.
So last week, the sustainability stewards (Natasha Rooney, and I), in conjunction with Bon Appetit, (the cafeteria's caterers), organised a sustainability cook-off. I took pictures. Here is a slideshow.
This gigantic map is the latest addition to my dorm room. But I didn’t cram it in over my bed just for kicks—it’s part of a class that I’m taking in preparation for a trip to London this January.
The class is officially titled “IND-307.1 London: Art/History/Literature.” It has 14 students (13 of whom are female), three professors, and one faculty member who’s surveying the course in preparation for his own trip to the UK.
Hayman is generally known to be a little bit louder than the other dorms, and I have to say, I wouldn't have it any other way. Something is always going on, whether it is a study party, a game of Ultimate Spoons, a Nerf War, movie night, Assassins, or just a small-scale dance party. For those of you who have never had the chance to experience it firsthand, I've filmed a typical Sunday night. Here is a little taste of life in Hayman:
Everyone here on campus is starting to get into the swing of things now that we've entered our third week of classes. It's been long enough now that pretty much everyone has some sort of routine established, even if that routine is hitting the snooze button five times or so before finally sleepwalking into their 8 a.m. class. That said, those routines can oftentimes be thrown into flux by some choice homework assignments. Let's face it--there are some essays that demand nothing less than a solid commitment of several hours if you really want an A.
We all know the feeling (at least I hope I'm not the only one). We all know the feeling one gets when one thing is suddenly sending the world off its axis. Days happen when we put our shoes on before our pants. Days happen when we sleep through four alarms. Days happen when we nod off in every single class. These. Days. Just. Happen.
Today, I walked out of Hayman to get some lunch, and saw that the sidewalk was wet like it usually is when the sprinklers have just been on. Because of all the recent smoke, I didn’t think twice about the gray sky. But I noticed something was different about today. Unlike when the sprinklers are on, EVERYTHING was wet: Real. Life. Rain. Wet grass, and the unmistakable fragrance of the first rain in a long time.