Merry Kyle-mas!

Kyle wanted to wish you all a very merry Christmas, and when Kyle gets his mind set on something...well...you'll just have to see for yourself.

While Kyle may not be the best at lip-synching, this video is guaranteed to at least be less disturbing than The Santa Clause.  A movie whose whole premise is that Time Allen KILLS Santa and then steals his identity and his staff of sociopathic child-elves who don't seem to care at all that Santa Claus DIED.  My mom didn't let us watch that movie as kids because she didn't want us thinking that Tim Allen was Santa...or that you could become Santa through involuntary manslaughter.

It is also less creepy than Oh Ho Ho, the decorative Santa head with real human teeth that was once owned by my great grandfather, the dentist. 

However, it does resemble a train wreck, a car crash and any other horrific event that you just can't seem to peel your eyes away from.  So, without further ado, Kyle and I wish you all a very merry Christmas!

Home for the Holidays

So it's officially winter break and that means you and all of your old friends (and people who think they're your friends) are back home!  Great.  That means listening to everyone's CrAzY college stories, telling that guy you're still not interested, eating your weight in Christmas cookies, and having that annual conversation with your relatives that yes you still want to be an actress, no you have not grown out of it, yes you are out of your mind, please pass the sparkling cider.  Oh, that's just me?  Well, you're missing out on prime familial disappointment, let me tell you.

Winter break is funny...all those people you swore you'd never see again after you left for college, you'll see them.  It's like when you were still in high school and told your parents they should treat you like an adult because "in a few years I'll be in the REAL WORLD!"  And then you got to college and realized it's the farthest thing from the real world you will ever experience.  Yeah, life is like that.  You come home for the holidays and realize that though you may have left, absolutely nothing else has changed.

Except that is, for all of the best friends you seem to have acquired.  You don't realize how many "friends" you had in high school until you come home for break.  Suddenly nearly every 18-20 year old is your old chum and wants to catch up at holiday themed parties chock full of peppermint bark and self promotion.  It's hard being the only one at a college no one knows about.  All of your friends want to make sure you know that they're having a great time majoring in business/advertising/chemistry, have rushed Theta Alpha Zeta Beta Phi and let's face it, there are only so many times I can hear about frat parties and fast food restaurants on campus before I want to stone people with the pebbles on Middle Path.  Kenyon is cool too guys!  We had a movie filmed on campus over the summer with that guy from How I Met Your Mother...no, not Neil Patrick Harris...

So I'm bracing myself to spend another winter break convincing people that just because it's in the middle of farmland, Kenyon is not a vocational school, and after they believe that it's actually a liberal arts school, that I do not spend my days singing songs, holding hands, and occupying everything.

But really it's the questions from my family that put the cherry on top of winter break.  Not only do I have to defend my major, lack of boyfriend, and the fact that I do actually have social skills, but my brother just got accepted to all three of the schools he applied to.  With large scholarships.  While he gets to celebrate and bathe in hundred dollar bills, I get reminded that I spent my winter break senior year frantically writing supplement essays after I got deferred from Vassar.  I was forced to finish one application a day for a week...and when I say forced I mean my mother all but chained me to the kitchen table as I slowly regressed to childhood, surrounded by coloring books and sucking my thumb.  I don't actually know all the schools I applied to, my mom just opened the laptop and told me to write.  After a day of that she gave up and wrote helped me write two generic application essays which were then Frankenstein-ed together to fit any application's supplement.

But really, I'm happy to be home with my queen sized bed and shower that I don't have to wear flip-flops in.  And I have the 007 Days of Christmas marathon to look forward to!  So really, in the grand scheme of things, what's not to love about break?

PS:  My mom and dad really do love me and support my crazy dreams.  I should give them credit for living with a perpetual five year old, they really are great.

The Big Friendly Elephant in the Room

Hey you!  Yes, you!  Congrats on surviving finals!  I just finished and am in a weird manic state of too tired to function yet still don't feel like its okay to sleep for 17 hours until I have to get on the shuttle to CMH.  I have in the past week broken two mugs and a terrarium, downed approximately 100 cups of coffee, slept a total of 7 hours, and read more on modernist theater than anyone ever cared to know.  So manic is kind of my thing.  I make it work.

However, I have had time to peruse Facebook during my week from hell and I don't know about you, but one video in particular kept blowing up my newsfeed.  In my opinion there's only so many times people can "share" a video until it's been on everyone's newsfeed and should stop being posted.

So without further ado, let me share with you a video you've probably already seen too many times:

Here's the thing.  I already knew this.  This was already established 20 years ago:

Sidenote:  You only really need to watch the first minute of this clip, the rest is superfluous.  Except it really is a great movie...with a really great soundtrack.  So maybe you should watch the rest of the clip.  And then go to Netflix, I think it's still on instant.  It's not like you're doing anything better with your time right now.

So, I totally believe this!  This is not even up for debate!  Men and women simply cannot be just friends no matter how many girls refuse to pull their heads out of the sand.  Either he was attracted to you or you were attracted to him at some point, I don't care when or for how long but it happened.  Personally I have never been able to have a male "just friend."  It's kind of like a sneak attack, one day you're best buds and the next day you're waking to up a foggy memory of making out to the soft background noise of Titanic.  Again.

That being said, being "friends with benefits" is simply not feasible either.  Sorry I'm not sorry, there's no way that works unless you're a heartless monster or a man.  Emotions always get in the way.  Sex gets in the way of emotions, emotions get in the way of sex, the world is round.  What else is new?

Now, go home and hook up with someone new, we've all been dealing with the incestuous hook-up culture that is Kenyon for too long.  I bet that "friend" from high school would be willing.

What is Studying?

A (short) list of TV shows you should be watching right now but probably aren't because you're more responsible than me.  But if you need a study break (or an excuse to continue to not study), get on Hulu or Sidereel and maybe after you watch all 9 episodes of American Horror Story in one sitting it will finally start snowing.  Or you'll need to turn a nightlight on.  It's a toss up.

1.  Once Upon a Time:  This is what I image my life to be like.  No, you're wrong, I'm not actually a student at Kenyon College, I'm a princess who just happens to have fallen under an evil spell and can't remember my previous life.  The writers of this TV show totally read my middle school diary.  The only problem is that every time I finish an episode I want to listen to Adele and look listlessly out my window for Prince Charming.  Then I remember I'm in college...and laugh.

2.  American Horror Story:  Watch this show for Jessica Lange's character, Constance.  Do it.  Now.  Why are you still reading this?  I don't even have anything clever to say about it.

3.  New Girl:  Sometimes I think the parallels between Jess and what I would be like if I hadn't learned to not always speak my internal monologues are a little too close.  But actually.  This show makes me laugh for the whole 30 minutes, every time.  And while I'm not a huge fan of Zooey Deschanel as an actress, I am a fan of proving that women can be hilarious.  That, and I really want this to happen to me at some point in my life.  Those are some real men.

4.  Bones:  Come for the dead bodies, stay for the characters.  Oh, and the fact that this might be one of the first shows to actually resolve the sexual tension between the main characters, and survive.  Booth and Brennan 4LYFE!

Well I still have half an episode of Bones some reading left.  I hope this at least gave you a solid five minutes of procrastination.

An Ode to Like a Little

So I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving break!  I didn't, I was sick, but that's okay I can live vicariously through everyone else.  Now we're back and realizing it's time for finals and misery and I personally am going to hide in my room and watch Once Upon a Time while hanging up Christmas lights until I'm forced to actually do work.  These three awkward weeks between breaks are some of my favorite, they bring back fond memories of many things including midnight breakfast, snow, Club Olin, and Like a Little.

Now, around this time last year I was sleeping through French class, excited about the first snow and looking forward to finals week.  This is because I didn't have any finals during finals week, but I was too lazy to figure that out when my mom was bugging me to book my flight home.  As a result I sat in my room for a week watching the snow out my window and Law and Order SVU, eating chocolate, and bothering my roommate who was manically studying.  But there was one thing above all that kept me entertained through finals week, even more so than my needlepoint project.  It was...Like a Little.  DUN DUN.

Now if you look at it from an objective standpoint, Like a Little never stood a chance, bad timing bit the LAL fad in the ass, but it had a hell of a run.  There were a few brave souls who tried to LAL across coasts but they were far too sentimental for what LAL had become and were shot down by bitter single people who hate love (hey-o!).

I'm gunning for LAL to make a comeback this year and there are some solid reasons why.  Also I like making lists, they're an easy way out of actually writing something.

1.)  I need a new procrastination website and LAL had new posts like every five seconds.  Always something new and slightly disturbing.

2.)  Remember how fun it was to be sitting in Peirce and looking around to try and figure out who was being Like a Littled?  Same goes for Olin and Gund Commons.  Also the fact that it spawned a new verb, "Like a Littled" you have to have some serious power to get your own verb.

3.)  I will be the first to admit that I scanned LAL every day seeing if I was Like a Littled.  That's not weird, right?  Nothing wrong with a little self confidence boost.  Or self confidence killer.

4.)  It's a great way to practice your creative writing and get in the holiday spirit at the same time!  But let's try to think of something more imaginative than Santa going up your chimney, that was so last year.

My only problem with Like a Little is that it allows people to avoid actually talking to each other about how attracted they are.  Which in the end is sort of counter productive to what LAL is trying to do.  I get the whole "anonymous flirting" thing but come on, these are the last few weeks of the semester, might as well get laid.  I guarantee it will keep you warmer than that ugly Christmas sweater.  Even if it is ironic.

This is why I'm also proposing an idea for a new website:  Like a Little Too Much.  You anonymously send your cleverly worded sentence directly to that person's email where he or she can either agree to meet you or reject you and rip your soul out.  And when you're rejected it's posted on the website so I have something funny to look at.  Like America's Funniest Home Videos, we all like to laugh at pain.

Calling All Brothers

To anyone who knows me it is no secret that, second to becoming a Koke, my biggest desire is to join a fraternity.  Now seeing my obvious interest in Greek life, the logical thing to do would be to join a sorority, because those are for the people with vaginas and feelings.  Like me.  However, there are many reasons why joining a fraternity just sounds way more fun.

First of all, girls are catty.  Have you seen Mean Girls?  Of course you have, everyone has, so you know that girls are just hard to read.  I seriously take pity on all you straight men out there who have to deal with us.  I don't even know what I'm feeling/thinking/doing half the time, but yes, I will continue to expect you to.  Guys are just so much more accepting, there's something to be said for brotherhood.

I also just seem to get along better with guys.  This fact has been proven time and again.  And while I don't believe men and women can be "just friends" I prefer to hang out with guys.  This is why I don't have many female friends, it's not that I don't want them, I just don't really know how to act around them.  It's easy to talk to members of the opposite sex because really it's just flirting, but when I actually have to have a conversation that's not based in physical attraction, I'm lost.  If I say "we should hang out sometime" and flash a cute smile to a girl I'm pretty sure I'm not actually going to get anywhere unless I start hanging around Crozier a bit more.

Back to the point though.  Fraternities seem so much more fun than sororities.  Last year during rush week was when I truly realized this.  The activities for the sororities were along the lines of "come to our tea party and then we'll watch Sex and the City while talking about our feelings and cutting out paper snowflakes, OMG!" while the fraternities offered the more lucrative option of "come over for a beer before we go out to lazer tag and stuff our faces with wings, and then when we get back we're going to smash up a car, FUCKYEAH!"  Now, I want you to examine these options and tell me to my face that the fraternities don't sound like more fun.  When I come home after a bad day I don't want Mary Beth handing me a cosmo and a fluffy pillow while we cry together over a pint of ice cream, I want my brothers to hand me a bat and tell me to beat the shit out of an old car.  But then again, this could just be because all my feelings manifest themselves in rage.  I also just love wings.  Like seriously, I could live off of wings.

I've considered creating an alter ego to make my dreams come true.  His name is Kyle.  He's feminine looking but please don't point that out, it hurts his feelings and then he'll beat you up.  Kyle wears baggy clothes and is often seen with a backwards baseball cap and a toothpick in his mouth to make him seem more "gangsta."  Kyle will also be auditioning for the Kokes, he's a 1st tenor but his real strengths lie in beat-boxing and rapping.  Word.

Meet Kyle and let him beatbox his way into your heart.

 But honestly I don't really want to hide my true gender, so I am making a formal inquiry to all the fraternities on campus:  Do YOU want to be the groundbreaking Greek group to accept a member of the opposite sex?  Do YOU want to push the limits of tradition and bring a sister into the brotherhood?  Then I want YOU to let me rush next semester.  I'll be accepting offers from any and all fraternities starting right now.  I will also be accepting offers from the Kokes, I promise you that "Little Red Corvette" could really be spiced up with a rap section.  GO!

This Is Where We Live...

I found this little gem on youtube the other night, and it's just too good not to share.  Keep in mind Kenyon students, this is where we live.

I'm planning on taking this to the film department and asking if they can screen it in one of their classes.  I personally think it offers great insight into the art of filmmaking, especially when it comes to making documentaries or news stories.  I've even taken the liberty of starting an in depth analysis that could be used as a lesson plan if they so choose.  Here's a sneak peak:

We can see that the filmmakers cleverly used techno music to set the mood of the Fox Hole, the fast paced music also complements the manic conversation.  Symbolism is also present when the filmmakers opted to show a picture of the moon instead of the edgier choice of showing the old man's saggy butt.  I guess we can't all push the limits of art.

The climax of this piece is really when the old man charges the "reporter" and what's brilliant about it is that you're not expecting it.  He can move pretty fast coming out of absolutely nowhere, kind of like a perverted, senile Batman.  Now that's what I call a plot twist!

However, in this coming of age blockbuster, above all I think these two men offer some solid advice on becoming a man and knowing that it's okay to be curious about strip clubs.  The brilliant line, "you can go in there if you want, there's pretty nice tits in there, you might learn something" brought tears to my eyes.  So, I expect an increase in patronage at the Fox Hole.  I personally have also found strip clubs to be the most educational tool in female anatomy and I'm glad there are people out there who agree with me.

Sidenote:  The crazy man's accent...what is that?

These aspiring filmmakers have a whole youtube channel on the happenings in Mount Vernon, unfortunately none of their other videos are quite as amusing.  Although I will say the interview with a war veteran was very enlightening.  Apparently using TNT as bait when fishing is a bad idea, especially if you tie it to a metal pole and are using a row-boat.  Who'd have known!?

Karma and Kourse Registration

Since my parents are the only ones who read this blog (love you mom and dad!) there's not much I can say about my weekend except that karma, bitch that she is, hit me hard Monday morning with a good old case of the Kenyon Krud.  I deserved it though.  Word to the wise: Kenyon's a bit too small sometimes, especially when you're out on a Friday night finding a rebound.

Seriously, the worst part about being sick in college is that there's no one to take care of you, and now that I'm newly single this realization hit me doubly hard.  I had to stagger out of bed to heat up ramen all by myself, and I'm sure my suite-mate has been scarred for life at the sight of an unbathed me, kleenex hanging out my nose and hovering over the microwave.  Apart from my two or three ventures to make soup, my day consisted of sleeping and watching crappy rom-coms on Netflix instant.

It was what I would call an uneventful day, that is until I was awoken from my slumbers by the soulful stylings of the one, the only, Johnny Melodica!  I have been waiting for this day since move-in, the day when I would witness my suite-mate's alter-ego, the day my life would have meaning.  My head was pounding, and my throat felt like weasels were clawing my esophagus but I was happy, so happy.  However, I am now beating myself up over the fact that I was too feverish/ecstatic to remember the new song he was practicing!  Failure, I totally deserve ten more days of the Krud for that.  But for a few brief moments, through the cement block walls on the 9th floor of Caples, I heard a "melodica soloooooo" live!

So now that your life has been forever changed, you can continue to read about mine.  The bad karma continued through Tuesday, only now it manifested itself in the form of online registration.  I am saddened to say that I AM THE 1% (of students who had problems with online registration).  I literally got registered for one class.  There were errors with the other 6 I tried.  I spent a good 15 minutes after my registration time finding random classes that looked mildly interesting and trying to register for them all while reading everyone else's Facebook statuses about how they got all their classes and it was ZOMGSOEAZZZYYY.

Whatever.

My experience with online registration was more like an abusive relationship.  It actually got very personal when I started speaking to the courses as if they were real people...

Survey of Art, I know that the freshmen are very exciting, they're new and not afraid to try different departments, but do you really need to keep 15 spots open?  Ditto for you, Intro to Cultural Anthropology.  I spend every day slaving over the online course worksheet for you, trying to fit you in.  I would have gotten up at 8 AM for you, and this is how you repay me?  Leave me out in the cold, trying to find refuge in another section?  And Stat Analysis in Psych, nowhere in your description does it say that Research Methods is a prerequisite for you.  I've been around the Psych department for a semester already, I'm very experienced, I promise you won't be disappointed.  So get your shit together, then we can register.  But after this morning I expect you to take me out to dinner.  At the Kenyon Inn.  And don't even try to pay with your K-Card, my Chicken Saltimbocca is coming out of your pocket.

Now before I leave you and your perfect second semester course schedule, I have a parting thought.  I bought this box of "cool touch" kleenex today from the Market that claims to "immediately feel cool to the skin."  And they DO!  I thought it was a hoax, I only bought them because they were in the biggest box and my nose is running like Niagara Falls; but then I used them and they actually are cold.  I know what you're thinking, "Kisky, they're only cold because you carried them outside from the Market back to Caples" but you would be wrong!  So wrong!  I am using them now, many hours after bringing them back, and each kleenex is nice and cool on my irritated, red nose.  I am in awe.  And clearly on too much cold medicine.

The Kenyon Divorce

The worst thing that could ever happen, happened to me today...

THE CAPLES ELEVATOR IS OUT OF SERVICE

I live on the 9th floor.  This is a big deal.  

In fact, this is almost on par with the time I noticed the statue in front of Cromwell Cottage had been moved and I was disoriented for a week.  I have a small mind, change scares me.  Exercise also scares me, hence why I will camp out in the Caples kitchen until the elevator is fixed.  Hopefully people will bake me things.  

In other news, the Kenyon divorce.  Have you ever thought about it?  If there's a Kenyon marriage, it's inevitable that eventually there will be a Kenyon divorce.  Having recently gone through one of these, I can give some tips to those of you also realizing you have to actually talk to other people at Kenyon.  

1.  You already bought a plane ticket to see him/her over break:  Well shoot!  That was a bad move.  Maybe next time you should make sure your relationship is stable before you agree to fly across the country to share hot chocolate and mistletoe.  You have two options here:  1.) Find another guy or girl who lives in the same state and convince them that you're an orphan and need a place to stay over Christmas. 2.) Try to get a refund, you probably won't (airlines suck) then spend Christmas at home getting drunk, dressing up as Santa and yelling at happy couples.  

2.  You're going through a custody battle over something (mutual friends, a stray cat you took in together, books for classes you're taking, alcohol):  Since college students are poor and can't afford real lawyers, you'll have to figure this one out for yourself.  You better hope you're the more likable one out of the couple.  But just know that I'm currently practicing divorce law out of my room.  There's a market for it, and I need the money to make up for that plane ticket!   

3.  You have seminar together:  Well don't skip seminar, that would be silly!  Go to class late and apologize that your new boyfriend Pierre "just won't let you get out of bed" ooh la la whatever will you do!

4.  You're sharing a suite/apartment/universe:  Well that was a bad idea.  You should never live with your significant other, but I understand, you thought you'd be "together forever" and now you're stuck together for the rest of the year.  Bummer.  Well the only logical thing to do would be to force him out.  Walmart has everything, I'm sure you can find noxious gases, loud buzzers, and chainsaws in the section with all the camouflage.       

  

5.  You left your stuff in his/her room:  Around four in the morning, sneak into his room with the spare key you had made and stage a burglary.  Take all your things and some of his.  Then make a huge bonfire with the things of his you took.  

6.  He's clearly moved on and you haven't:  Well fuck that.

However, if you don't want to end up in jail or on the Dateline special "My Crazy Ex" maybe you should just take a deep breath, put on a smile, and find a rebound.  At least one other person is bound to find you attractive.

When You Get To My Door, Tell Them Boris Sent You

Happy Halloweekend to everyone!  I love Halloween.  I guess you could call me a Halloween-aholic.  If you come to my room in the month of October you will see the walls decorated with spiders, skulls, and witches, my desk piled with candy and cookies, and light-up plastic pumpkins all over the place.  My room is basically equivalent to that house you drive by with the four gnomes, seven fountains, and three lion statues in the front yard, and you think to yourself, "how tacky."  But I love Halloween.

This obsession started at a young age, probably just because I liked candy.  However, I'm more inclined to think it was because I liked dressing up and being the center of attention...not that that's changed.  I actually wore gold sparkly shoes and a I'M #1 button to my pre-school graduation.  I was a pretty big deal.  Clearly, getting to wear pretty dresses and being sparkly were my top goals in life since the age of five.

I started out as being a bunny, and this phase lasted a short seven years.  Always the same costume, I actually didn't grow until junior high.  After the bunny years I became obsessed with Disney princesses.  Disney princesses embodied everything my little mind had envisioned for my life:  a handsome prince, ponies, elegant balls, pretty dresses, magic, and animal friends.  Not to mention the fact that I thought I actually was a princess who had been taken away from her magical kingdom to be kept safe from the evil queen.  I also had animal friends, they were imaginary raccoons.  I nursed them back to health after they fell through my window.  Over the course of several years, I went through every Disney princess.  I even dressed as Mulan one year because when I was younger I was Asian an empowered, independent woman.  After the princess years came the scary years.  The years of witches, ghosts, and devils.  Theses were not so notable because I was going through puberty and was awkward and just wanted to be "cool".

Now that I'm in college, Halloween is an excuse to dress up as anything with little clothing.  This is really a shame.  I feel like Lindsay Lohan in "Mean Girls" when she showed up at the Halloween party as a dead bride and everyone else was dressed as slutty animals.

I was thinking this year about being a slutty barn.  I would dress as a barn and when you opened the barn doors I would be naked and covered in hay.  However that required too much effort.  So then I thought about being a slutty lobster by being a lobster without the shell, but no one would get that.  I thought about being a slutty tree, where throughout the course of the night I'd lose all of my leaves.  I can't quite figure out the logistics of that one though.

Anyway, Happy Halloweekend everyone!  See you all at Old Kenyon tonight, I'll be the slutty piece of carpet.

If you didn't get the title of this post, you clearly need to get more in the spirit.  Now, do the mash.

 

Oh Mis Moscas, Donde Estan Mis Pantalones!?

Life is hard for a Kenyon College student.  Okay, not really.  It's actually pretty easy, but since we all like to complain:   

1.  My Pandora stations are all in Spanish.  Not the music, just the commercials and the writing.  I don't speak Spanish, I never have.  I just woke up one day over the summer and Pandora was all in Spanish, and it's never changed back.  However, when I worked at Pizza Schmizza I did pick up some Spanish slang.  Archie would always say "Oh mis gatos!"  Which actually translates to "Oh my cats!"  I think it means something like "Oh my gosh!" but as many memes and youtube videos have taught me: everything's funnier with a cat.  Sadly, Pandora isn't on my level yet.  Oh mis gatos...

2.  Everyone on campus is complaining about the ladybugs that have infiltrated their rooms.  I would love to have ladybugs in my room!  Instead I have giant horse flies buzzing around; and because I am a woman I am very scared of insects and because I am a college student I don't want to go out and buy fly repellant.  I compromise by spraying the flies with hairspray until they can't move and then sucking them up in my vacuum where they slowly die of asphyxiation.  Some people play sports to get out their aggression, I kill flies. 

3.  Now that I have a single, I no longer wear pants in my room.  This would not be a problem except since I'm pretty sure my suite-mate doesn't want to see me in my underwear, I am becoming a hermit.  A pantsless hermit.  My typical inner monologue is as such, "Hey, I'm really hungry.  Ooooh look!  Popcorn!  I'll just go microwave this and...oh wait...the microwave is in the suite.  Oh well, I'll just watch another episode of Bones."

4.  I do not appreciate the canceling of Phling.  I have some very nice dresses that I never get the opportunity to wear out here in the cornfields, and now the administration is taking away the only chance I have.  So, who wants to volunteer?  I'll be in my room.

5.  Why did the Dairy Queen in Mount Vernon have to close!?  It's not like it has any real competition, and a girl needs her Blizzards.  They even flipped them upside down before they gave them to you, which I have always wanted to do but was too scared.  

6.  Gourdzilla is going to be given away as a prize to the winner of a pumpkin-carving contest.  However, you don't actually get to keep Gourdzilla, you have to carve it.  I can only assume it's because they don't want to have to move it again.  Second place gets 50 dollars.  Anyone else going for second place?  I personally think a better use of Gourdzilla would be to drop him off the top of Peirce and let us all place bets on where the farthest piece of The Zilla will land.

7.  I bought some small pumpkins from Walmart about a week ago so that I could festively decorate my room for Halloween.  They molded within the week and stuck to my wood shelf.  Not only have I learned never to buy pumpkins from Walmart but I'm afraid that my shelves are infused with mold and I'll get fined at the end of the year.

That is all, I'll leave you with your thoughts and some gatos.

To Abroad Or Not To Abroad

For the past two weeks my entire existence has centered around going abroad.  Although, here at Kenyon we don't like to discount the many opportunities in the United States so we call it OCS (off campus study) which I think is stupid and prefer to call OCSTRESS.  I was super excited about going abroad before the first meeting, where I learned that applying for programs was going to be like applying for college but with fewer options.  This made me want to curl up in a fetal position on a kitchen floor and ask my mom to buy me coloring books.  Which may or may not have been the way I spent my winter break senior year of high school.

However, after going to the OCSTRESS information fair I do have a rather romanticized idea of what it would be like to study abroad.  I blame the pamphlets that are telling me things like "you can stroll through Covent Gardens on your way to the theatre for rehearsal"  I mean COME ON!  That sounds so cool!  Not to mention that they spell theater in the pretentious "re" way like I imagine people in London do, so they can say it like "the-ah-trr." I can just picture myself in a peacoat and knit cap, strolling through the gardens on a blustery autumn day after an afternoon in the pub with my mates.  Also, all my internal dialogue is in a british accent now.  In preparation.  Granted I may want to go to Scotland instead of London, in which case I really should ask my mom to send me the dialect tapes we bought when my high school did Brigadoon.

Speaking of plays, KCDC's next play is Hamlet and along with every other female drama student at Kenyon, I'm drooling over the prospect of auditioning for Ophelia.  This means I spent two hours in the library yesterday trying to get a copy of the audition "packet" and I am not ashamed of this.  I reached level 7 in brick breaker, which is a new record for me.  I say "packet" because it was 80 pages.  When I read the email saying there was a "packet" at the circulation desk of scenes to prepare, I imagined maybe 12 pages.  Nope.  But I'll be damned if I didn't spend my given hour with the Great Hamlet Audition Novel copying every page.  However, I forgot to staple it all together before I left, and I now have 80 loose pages of iambic pentameter strewn across my Caples suite.  Woops.

My boyfriend has decided I should audition Hamlet because I'm crazy enough to play any character.  I'm not sure if I should be insulted or complimented by this, because I'm pretty sure he's basing his opinion off the time I threw a quart of melted Ben and Jerry's ice cream at him in the heat of an argument.  Maybe not my finest moment, but calm has never looked good on me.  Another reason I'm a drama major and not too good at physics.

 

Undercover at THE NAZ

After attending Kenyon for a full year and almost a half, I came to the realization that I had never actually seen a student from Mount Vernon Nazarene University, or as we affectionately call it, The Naz....until last week.  I was having a fine dining experience at Ruby Tuesday's, when I saw one.

SIDENOTE: Ruby Tuesday's cheesy garlic biscuits are TO DIE FOR.  I plan on taking over the Caples kitchen for weeks until I discover the secret recipe.

I will enslave this man and force him to bake me cheesy biscuits

Yes, a real student from The Naz.  I could tell because this specimen was wearing a sweatshirt from the university and looked like she had crawled out of a cornfield.  It was at this point when I realized that not only was this the first bonafide student I had ever seen, but that despite all of the signs pointing to The Naz, I had never actually seen any evidence that it existed.  I was now determined to find the fabled university, no matter how far into rural Ohio I had to venture.  Luckily, my boyfriend was equally curious, and we took off to search for the Promise Land.

After about ten minutes of driving through Mount Vernon we saw a church.  After passing this church we saw...a university!  But it was not just any day at The Naz, oh no, we happened to stumble upon SonFest (Son, like God...not sun, like the planet).  SonFest appears to be somewhat like our Sendoff, only it happens at the beginning of their school year, there are more small children, and there's no alcohol (The Naz is a dry campus, who knew!?).  My boyfriend and I thought we would just crash the carnival, listen to one of the Jesus bands performing, grab a cotton candy and head out.  However, apparently you had to pay something like 20 dollars for a ticket, so we decided to just walk around campus instead.  I even adopted the codename Delilah in hopes that The Plain White T's would serenade me I could stay undercover.  Here are our findings:

The Bookstore:  Very small, and all the books (novels included) were about religion.  My personal favorite was the section devoted to dating while staying abstinent, and getting others to join you in this venture.  

The Student Lounge:  My only note about this is why don't we have a legit student lounge??  

The Academic Buildings:  The academic buildings at The Naz are reminiscent of your high school science corridors.  They are completely linoleum, cold, and avoided like the plague.  Also, courses like Home Ec. are still taught The Naz, along with courses that we could only assume were something along the lines of "how to be a good mother".  This makes sense since there is a preschool on campus.  A preschool!  For children!  Like the children of the students!  This is confusing though because there is a strict curfew in place for all students and you can't spend in the night in another student's room (however you CAN be signed out for the weekend...whoopee!).  Sex and dancing are also outlawed.  Like BYU for the uncoordinated.  Or high school.

 My previous ideas of The Naz were blown out of the water.  Still sore about not being able to get into SonFest, my boyfriend and I high-tailed it for the car and I am so happy to be back on a campus where I can stay out past midnight and wear clothes that show my shoulders.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

For some reason unknown to me, our health center is closed on the weekends.  This seems very counterintuitive but I guess even nurses want to get crunk on saturday nights.  As a result of this, I had to go to the Knox County Hospital.  Unlike the people with bleeding fingers and crutches who kept me company in the waiting room, I just had a really itchy rash...seriously, it was really itchy.  I was skeptical of the KCH before this visit, but now I am pretty sure the doctors there got their degrees online to get a discount on "Grey's Anatomy" Halloween costumes.

Finally I got to see a doctor, I showed him my side and my arm where I was covered with red bumps and he just said "Hmmmmm" and pulled out his Iphone, searched "chicken pox," and compared the Google images to my arm.  I enjoy a shirtless cell phone picture of chicken pox taken in a dimly lit bathroom as much as the next girl, but preferably not when I'm having to pay for it.  After the picture of the cartoon dog with a thermometer in his mouth passed, Dr. #1 was convinced I had chicken pox.  Until he asked me if I had been vaccinated.  I have been.  So it wasn't chicken pox.  It was shingles!  It had to be shingles!  But Dr. #1 couldn't be sure so he had to go search for another doctor.  Several minutes later Dr. #1 returned with Dr. #2.  Dr. #2 said it couldn't be shingles because I didn't have a fever (go Dr. #2!  Way to check WebMD before coming in here!).  They gave up and decided to prescribe me steroids for my mystery rash.  I got four tubes of steroid cream from that prescription.  Enough for me and my rashy elephant.  

I'm pretty sure that as soon as I stop putting on the cream, the rash will come back.  I'm probably deathly allergic to something that I'm eating on a regular basis (so gummy bears, chocolate, or goldfish).  Or from my own google image search, I learned I could actually have Psoriasis, bedbugs, Gangrene, Perioral Dermatitis, or Leprosy.  Google is so handy in self-diagnosis!  I should go pre-med.  Unless my nerves become too damaged from the Leprosy.  Or I lose my arm from Gangrene.  

This is very similar to a medical experience I had at home.  One morning I woke up and my legs were covered in small circular bruises, so obviously I went to a doctor.  She asked me if I had put anything with small circles on my legs.

..........

No.  I did not press soccer cleats into my thighs, or a bunch of upside-down tacks.  But thanks for asking.

I was then told that I had to have blood tests done because it was possible that I had Leukemia, HIV, or Lupus.  It was like an episode of "House".  Next I'll have a seizure and they'll figure out that the medicine they've been giving me is actually causing kidney failure.  Needless to say, I'm actually fine, I just occasionally have outbreaks of small bruises.  Maybe I should try steroid cream.

God I Hope I Get It

Take it from a girl who knows.  Auditioning is hard.  Rull hard.  I know you sang a cappella in high school, and had the lead in Cinderella in elementary school, and you went to all those camps for "dance" where you ran in circles and rolled on the floor, and now that you're in college it's the perfect time to re-visit those lost talents.  You were AH-MAZING back then and nothing has changed...right?  Wrong.  So wrong.

I did showchoir in high school and we sang some songs a cappella so I figured I was a shoe-in for Take 5 (because obviously I am full of soul and coming from a suburb in Oregon, have much experience in jazz).  So I signed up for my audition slot at the activities fair and prepared my verse and chorus of a song.  I chose a song from Duffy because she's white and blonde like me, and has a rockin' voice like I pretend to have when I'm driving in my car listening to Beyonce.  I showed up to the audition all smiles and rainbows and sang my song, I know I wasn't the best person they heard but to keep some of my dignity let's pretend I wasn't the worst.

But the real kicker came when they asked me to scat.  I really wanted to be in an a cappella group, so I figured, "How hard can it be?  You just 'scooby dooby' to some notes."  The piano started playing and I channeled my inner Ella Fitzgerald, started swaying to the music, really feeling it and I was ready to let out the most rich, soulful 'ba da doo' you have ever heard in your life, when I actually opened my mouth.  This was my first mistake.  I sounded less Billy Holiday and more like a chipmunk on speed.  My voice went up about seven octaves and as I tried to squeak out sounds, I realized I wasn't even with the music, let alone hitting any notes.  Well if they're going to laugh at you anyway, might as well make them laugh with you.  I began to make up my own scat-song with good old verses like "why is this music still going? A dooby dooby" and "I'm trying really hard but I don't know what I'm doing" but don't forget "I don't have any more words, I hope this stops soon scat a ramma doo"  But the music kept going!  The pianist kept playing along, probably too busy being confused as to how I ended up in his audition room to notice my look of sheer panic.  When he finally did stop, I didn't notice and had to trail off with a "Oh I guess he stopped now doo-waaaaaa"  (with jazz hands).  Needless to say, I did not make it into Take 5.  But my roommate did.

Welcome Back to Kamp!

Around this time last year I was bright faced and hopeful about what college would bring.  I was looking forward to Old Kenyon parties, meeting cute guys, and freedom.  I didn't have too many friends and the humidity made my hair poof out like this:

The hair and the lack of friends may have been linked.

Now I'm back for a second year and things are basically the same.  Except I've learned that Old Kenyon is mostly just a good place to get beer spilled on you and make out with people you didn't want to, the cute guys are all gay, and I have all the freedom I want to decide between Walmart and Kroger.  Speaking of Kroger, apparently I look like the albino who works there.  This doesn't surprise me.  I haven't met her, but if you have tell her congratulations on her wedding and that Billy thinks the price for a six-pack of Natty Light is too high.  

I thought that by my Sophomore year I would know not to bring so much random shit with me.  But this is not the case.  My broom closet single in Caples looks like an episode of Hoarders, and I think Parents' Weekend is just an excuse for my mom to come up here and stage an intervention.  It's not that I don't want to clean my room, it's just that it's a vicious circle.  I'm at the point where I can't even enter my room, I can only take a HUGE step onto my bed to sleep at night.  I'm afraid the next step is taking in all the stray cats in Gambier and learning how to knit them sweaters. 

Help.

Now I do live in Wellness so becoming a cat lady isn't too much of a jump.  I may be the only one on campus living well for all I know.  I never see my hall-mates.  Never.  Not even in the bathroom.  So I have come to this conclusion:  Either 9th floor Caples is the Twilight Zone, or no one in Wellness bathes...or needs food.  However, I know I'm not the only resident of Caples because I can usually hear the normal people having fun on the floors below me.  For the first week back here I remained pretty vague about where I lived though, and my conversations went something like this.

Random Person:  Hey!  Where are you living this year?

ME:  Oh...north.

RP:  Oh hey, me too!  Where?

ME: ...Caples.

RP:  Nice, nice.  What floor?

ME:  YouknowIhavetogofluffyneedsanewsweater...bye!

But now that I've learned that the 9th floor is 8 flights of stairs too many, I have accepted my fate as a Wellness resident and allow people in the elevator to see what button I push.  If that's not maturity, I don't know what is.