I am being drowned in reading. Please, take this seriously
you guys. It’s a very real concern. I have a grand total of 170 pages of
reading to do by Monday. ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY. Do you know how many pages of
reading that is? That’s a short novel. That’s a good four to five chapters of a
textbook. It’s thirty-four 5-page essays. It’s ridiculous is what it is.
I think they should schedule college differently. Everything
should be staggered. There would be a week for extracurriculars. You could go
to all the “first” club meetings and work out which ones you’re sticking with. Then there could be a week for auditions
season: A Capella clubs, straight plays, musicals, choirs, IMPROVment. And when
you hear back from all of them, you can really pin down your non-class
schedule.
In the meantime, you’re meeting all kinds of new people, and getting enough sleep. You’re finding
your way around classes, working out a kind-of routine, and figuring out where
and when events are happening on campus.
If only.
Instead, my first two weeks at Case have been crazier than
Spock after reboot-Kirk’s death. And that’s pretty crazy. (I just re-watched
“Star Trek: Into Darkness” the other day, so sue me.)
I feel like I can connect to Spock a little more easily now.
I feel like I understand him better. It’s like the entire world just snapped
loose from it’s moorings, and is spinning so fast that it’s impossible to get a
grip on the surface. I feel like I’ll never be able to find my feet.
There are moments where it’s all I can do not to break down
in tears. Or just scream. Or want to run away and hide in my bed and never ever
come out of my dorm room ever again. There are moments where I feel paralyzed.
Where I feel like I can’t do anything right. Where I feel tremendously, completely,
and permanently out of control.
And then I write a few paragraphs, and I feel better about
things. It’s absurd. It’s bewildering. Somehow, being able to put something in
words makes it less scary. Being able to know it completely enough that you can
show it to someone else—somehow it makes the world seem brighter. Less full of
fear.
And I feel like maybe I can do this after all. Even the 170 pages of reading.
I’m making the prediction official. The Observer (Case Western Reserve University’s newspaper) will
eventually take over my life. I’ll start out writing short editorials and art
pieces. Then I’ll be news reporting every week, desperately trying to convince
myself to reach deadlines. Before you know it, I’ll be staying up all night,
every Wenesday putting together the paper for the next morning as a copy
editor. And I don’t mean figuratively all night. I mean literally all night. The section chiefs and executive editor stayed
up from 9:30 in the morning to 6:30 in the morning putting out the summer
edition of the paper.
I can’t freaking wait.
This is what I love about small, elite groups of people—the
chance to be involved with something special. Stick with me for the next bit
here…I’m going to reference Glee. I don’t know if any gleeks out there remember
the pilot episode, but this was the scene that made me fall in love with the
series. And I think Rachel says it best when she says this. I couldn’t find the
clip (so if you can hunt it down, let me know!) but here’s the dialogue.
WILL SHUESTER: You changed out of your costume. rACHEL BERRY: I'm tired of being laughed at. WILL: You're the best kid in there, Rachel. It comes with a
price. RACHEL: Look, I know I'm just a sophomore, but I can feel
the clock ticking away and I don't want to leave high school with nothing to
show for it. WILL: You get great grades. You're a fantastic singer. RACHEL: Everybody hates me. WILL: You think glee club is going to change that? RACHEL: Being great at something is going to change it.
Being part of something special makes you special, right?
Being part of something special makes you special, right?
Right.
There is, to my knowledge, one downside. I can’t be involved
in everything. The Student Activities Fair was today, and more and more I’m
realizing that there will be things I will have to exclude from my schedule. I
can not do everything. And, in fact, the more I try to, the more left out I’ll
be. Tonight for example. Me and some 2nd floorer’s watched Rocky Horror Picture Show in its
entirety. It was an unforgettable experience. I was one of those people who was
somewhat familiar with it beforehand, which meant 1) I wasn’t scarred for life
this time, and 2) I got to sing and dance along to the Time Warp while everyone
else in the room looked at us like we were insane. It was awesome.
Yet, while all this was going on, a small group of people on
the third floor (where I live) was listening to big band, old school jazz
music. And another group of girls who live on my hall were sitting next door to
my empty room telling stories and eating popcorn. And I wasn’t there.
Well of course I wasn’t. I don’t have a time turner. I can’t
be in two places at once. Yet still, somehow, I feel left out. The more I do,
the more I want to do. The more I feel like I should be included in.
I want to be able to be happy with what I have. And if that
means narrowing down my club choices to two, so be it. I want to be able to
tell some of those inside jokes. Let everyone else have theirs. I got to see
Rocky Horror. : )
Speaking of Rocky Horror, now that I’ve seen the entire thing,
absent the Halloween crowd, I think I finally understand what people love about
this movie. And I have to say, I’ve fallen in with the crowd. It’s hilarious
and charming and sad all at the same time. It’s a movie for the ages, with its
simultaneous perpetuation and refutation of gender stereotypes and scornful
commentary. It’s a movie for people who are different. You only have to
recognize the charisma and confidence with which Dr. Frank n’ Furter sings
“Sweet Transvestite” to realize that. Because even with the pitiful character
he becomes, Dr. Frank n’ Furter is first and foremost the man who made that
stunning entrance in women’s lingerie and 3-inch pumps. He was more comfortable
in those heels and garters than I’ve seen any woman be. He was more confident
and honest in his sexuality than I’ve seen many other people be. And he was a
strange, but real, inspiration.
Because if you could see that charisma….
I’ve heard it before and I think it bears repeating here.
Confidence is sexy.
There’s something attractive about it—not just physically,
but psychologically as well. We are attracted to people who seem sure of
themselves. People who refuse to make apologies, and who ask for no
forgiveness. And especially, especially, people
who act without the permission of other people. Because those are the people
whom we know will never have to ask permission from themselves.
When we doubt ourselves, when we criticize ourselves…when we
hate ourselves—we give other people power over us. We give them the power to
make us think, feel, or do things that we don’t want to think, feel, or do. We
give them the power to influence our decisions and our actions. We give them
the power to hurt us.
Dr. Frank n’ Furter would never do that. Regardless of the
(sometimes extreme) consequences, he made his own decisions. And he continued
to do so, right to the very end. He owned himself, and his mind, and his body,
and could do what he liked. He was his own champion.
Sometimes I think we need more of that in our lives. Sometimes
I think we’re too hesitant with what we want, thinking of the consequences.
Sometimes we act rashly to avoid them. You can say many things about Dr. Frank
n’ Furter, but one thing is irrefutable. He never ran away from his choices. He
was never afraid to accept what he was.
It's the
little things that get you. I didn't feel homesick until I saw a picture of
home. It’s not even that good of a picture. Blurry, quick, taken via
smartphone. But even a quick glimpse of my couch and my cat was enough to have
me near tears.
The Great
College Farewell was, ultimately, an anti-climax. There were no streamers, no
huge dramatic farewell scenes, no marching band (which I think my sister would
agree was a grievous error--marching bands should follow people about wherever
they go). There were some tears and that was it. We said goodbye. We hugged.
They left.
It didn’t
really feel any different. It was like turning 18, or getting my driver’s
license for the first time, or graduating from high school. A single event—a
minute’s worth of time—doesn’t change you. It’s life that does that.
These
milestones in life—I think we try to make them into representations of the
black and white world that we want. We want goodbyes to be easy and finite. We
want to be able to divide our life into neat little sections during which we
can summarize everything that has happened to us—all the ways in which we have
changed. We want to be able to pack our entire emotional life into a single
moment, because then when that moment ends, we know that we’ll be able to let
our emotions and experiences go as well.
We’ll be able
to move on.
Goodbyes, in
fact, do not work like that. People we meet take up a space in our minds that
we never get back. They live in our memories of them. And people deal with
these memories in all kinds of different ways. They mourn, they forget, they
deny. But regardless or how much they want to or not, they all move on
eventually. Time is tricky that way.
We have to
find new ways to deal with the new challenges we face. The new people we face.
Here at Case, I have to take initiative to get what I want. I have to make people see me. I keep having to
encourage myself to leave my dorm, to go up to someone and say hi, to ask
someone out to lunch. I keep having to remind myself that making friends is an
active endeavor—that hanging out with people means you have to talk to them and
invite yourself to whatever they’re doing first. New challenges.
We are driving back to NC from Case and the drive is so
boring that I’ve decided to put together some thoughts to post to our family
blog the next time I have internet access.
I am probably the least articulate one in our family but I’m going to
give this a shot. The Gallup Family
bubble has divided. There are now 2
bubbles: the one containing the parental unit and the other one containing the
cool college kids and their new Case Western environment (to be referred to as
CRU (pronounced ‘crew’) from this point forward.) I got that slang from one of the many
orientation talks that Steve and I have attended over the last 2 days (one of
the most useful bits of information for that matter). If you ask me, the girls are living in the
better bubble but I am hopeful that our bubble will soar to new heights;
however, only time will tell.
It has been a very
exciting and exhausting week. On
Thursday, Aug. 15, 2013, we moved our girls into their new living
quarters. We moved them in 3 days prior
to the rest of the first year students converging onto campus. The early move allowed us to avoid crowds but
also meant that we received ZERO help during the process. Whilst the other first year parents just sat
in their car as all of their child’s belongings were hoisted away by
upperclassmen, Steve and I and the girls got to move all of their stuff in with
no hand truck (insert reminder here to bring one for next year). At this point, I seriously questioned the
decision of the girls living in different buildings. Once moved in, the pre-orientation leaders
whisked our children away for 3 days while Steve and I got to play in order to
keep our minds off the impending ‘Goodbye’.
We toured the
pro-football hall of fame on the 16th where I learned that the
Washington Redskins used to be called the Boston braves, then the Boston
Redskins before moving to Washington to become the Washington Redskins and
remained so until this day. Ironically,
there is now controversy over the name ‘Redskins’ as it is derogatory to the
American Indians and so, the Redskins may have to change their name once again.
On the 17th, Steve and I biked 32 miles with the
Akron Bike Club up some very exhausting hills (or small mountains in my
mind). Halfway through the ride, we
stopped at Howe Meadows Farmer’s market where we had some refreshments and then
continued back up to the “mountain” to the parking lot. Since we weren’t exhausted enough, we then toured
the Stan Hywet mansion and gardens. On
the way back to Stone Gables B&B, we saw Brandywine Falls, proclaimed to be
one of the largest Falls in Ohio. The
Falls were anticlimactic and not worth dragging along to have a gander. Back at the B&B, we collapsed instead of
going to Little Italy’s Feast of Assumption, which was the original plan.
On the 18th, we checked in for parent orientation
at Case, went to a welcome session and then toured Cleveland on ‘Lolley the Trolley’ tour which was
somewhat interesting. We learned about
cultural gardens in Roosevelt park, a hidden cemetery in University Circle
where Roosevelt is buried, and how some Ohio high school students sold the
rights of Superman for $147 – bet they are a little peeved about that. We were
able to spend a little bit of time with Jasmine today but Sam was still riding
back from Ohiopyle State Park. Jazz told
us all about her pre-adventure including the ‘Rite of Spring’ ballet that she
was very excited about. Steve and I
then had dinner at Alladin’s Café in Coventry Park.
On the 19th, we listened to some mildly
interesting orientation talks about student safety, health services, and Case
cash. A parent round table discussion
never happened but an administrator that has a child entering Case as a
Freshmen led an impromptu discussion amongst the parents in the room. Afterwards, we finally got to sit down with
both of the girls and it felt as if the Gallup Family bubble had merged once
again. The merger did not last long as
we split again for the last 2 most boring sessions of the day. We merged again after the last session,
walked the girls back to their dorms where the Gallup bubble split
permanently. The parental unit went back
to the library to drink heavily and try to forget about the split and the
college kid bubble moved on to exciting events such as a barbeque and a
Luau.
On the 20th, the parental unit bubble went to the
Rock and Roll Hall of fame before departing Cleveland bringing us to the boring drive that I referred
to at the beginning of this tirade. I
know that the girls will be fine in their CRU bubble but want them to know that
their bubble is welcome to merge with our bubble anytime!!! I will keep you posted on where the parental
unit bubble goes from here…..
You know those days that are so long that...they sort of don't feel real? Like there's no way that everything you did could have happened within a period of 12 hours. It was just too much stuff. Today was one of those days.
from Playhouse Square, downtown:
The tour of The Palace Theater was the highlight of the trip--and I know all my fellow theatre geeks out there would agree with me. It was astounding. As implied by the name, it strives to be as luxurious and as opulent as a palace. And it kind of is.
Isn't it strange how history can make something special? A guitar played by John Lennon is more valuable than a guitar played by me. Any role made famous by someone is automatically a challenge to live up too. An original copy of any famous manuscript becomes part of a larger story--the story of its inception, creation, and evolution.
The theatre was beautiful. The artwork integrated into it was fascinating and wonderful. But what really made that theater special was its history. The Palace Theater was a vaudeville theater first. It has been host to the likes of Bob Hope, George Burns and Gracie Allen. The Three Stooges have performed there. On a side note, I must say, I love vaudeville. It's an art form like no other-- a conglomeration of freaks and outcasts, making the most of their outrageous personalities by entertaining people on stage. It was like running off to join the circus--performing became a method of escape, an avenue for talent, and a popular public form of entertainment, all at the same time. Stand up comedy is similar to vaudeville in this way. Comedy is, and remains, a relentlessly effective way of telling the truth.
After the Palace Theater was a vaudeville stage, it was a silent movie theater--complete with a specialized piano/organ for musical accompaniment to the films. After that, it became a venue for talkies, the piano surviving as an intro form of entertainment and a part time accompanist. After that, it was a derelict old building that was going to be torn down before a determined teacher saved it and turned it into a playhouse. What was originally scheduled to be a two week run of "Jaques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris," was so popular within it's first week that it went on to run for two and half years.
Points to Cleveland. Fact of the Day: Playhouse Square is the largest theatre district west of New York City.
from CWRU, University Circle:
We play ERS (egyptian rattlesnake screw-- no idea why it's called that)-- and toss around a football whilst kicking around a football. It's a insanely beautiful day. Not fall weather, but not summer weather either. Cleveland's picture perfect clear blue sky must be matched in intensity only by the devastatingly endless snow and rain that is winter during the months of November to April. We're learning about freshman tells. Their are--clearly--a lot of them. Some of them are pretty straightforward. Counterintuitive pronunciation of building names, for example. Thwing is pronounced Twing. The "h" is silent. Adelbrand is pronounced a-del-brand, like Adele the singer, with emphasis on the "del." Some others seem obvious: don't wear you key and ID card on your keychain lanyard (you know-- the one they gave you at check in for orientation?) They're all variations on the same new-kid theme though. Don't make it obvious that you don't belong here.
It's a fun topic to think about, but in the end I can't help think that it doesn't really matter. I found myself speaking in cliches when I opened up to a senior friend of mine here about the experience of college. I find myself saying, "It's like...here you can be anyone you want to be--because no one knows who you are."
Really, it's like you're starting over. A new school, new people, etcetera. It's strange though. I had a concept of what freshman year would be like, and this isn't it. After graduating high school, you're more yourself in your exploration of the world. I find myself taking chances more easily, speaking boldly more often, and taking confidence in my idea of myself. Being "who you are" isn't a challenge any longer--because I can be anyone. The last chapter of the book is blank. There are only my own expectations to fill. from Cleveland Orchestra, Blossom Music Center: I'm on a bus. It's inelegant mode of travel for such an elegant destination. We're on our way to watch the Cleveland orchestra perform Rite of Spring, with appropriate ballet accompaniment--and I kind of feel like I've come full circle.
I've been hearing accidental references to Raleigh Charter all day, and they always hit me the same way. At first, I'm excited. There is an immediate leap of enthusiasm. The kind of enthusiasm you feel when you realize you are familiar with the topic of conversation, even when surrounded by unfamiliar company. The "I-can-talk-about-this-feeling." Confidence. Security.
Then, a distant kind of melancholy, as I realize that I will have to struggle to explain my references. That I can't just say--"that reminds me of something I heard in Dr. B's class" and expect my fellow freshman to understand. I have to translate here. I think everyone in my group experiences the same struggle to communicate, at least initially. With uncommon backgrounds, it is difficult to be quick with your words. I can hear the pauses in the conversation, where my fellow freshman endeavor to find different ways of phrasing, or make pronouns into adjectives.
I'm so incredibly excited that we're going to see Rite of Spring that I feel an immediate urge to tell someone who will really know WHY. Why I'm so excited. Why this entire trip seems like the missing puzzle price to me, in my experience of school, in my experience of philosophic thought, in my experience of Stravinsky. It is the completion of something.
I think I get why Sam is so attached to Band now. No matter where you go, you have a common base of experience and knowledge with other musicians. A very specific common base of experience. The girl on the trip who knows who composed Rite of Spring is a clarinetist.
I think I'm underestimating my class. As I get to know them better, I understand that they're just as passionate, and smart, and FUN as any of the students at Raleigh Charter. I expect them to be the people I know--it's not particularly fair. This is the summer version of ourselves, after all. Classes haven't even started yet, and we still had a conversation about the morality and the effectiveness of the death penalty over lunch. These students are strong in their convictions. And then we went back to the commons and played ERS for an hour. These students are also both merciless and fearless in their jokes.
Conversation is easy and physical presence comfortable. I think I'm gonna like it here.
My roommate's nice, but it's no Raleigh Charter. That's the first thing that strikes me about the new school. There's really no way to compare, and yet...there kind of is. No one I've talked to yet has finished the required reading. To be fair, it's not really required--just an academic icebreaker but...they all seem to be downplaying their academic side. I love reading. I've brought with me an entire bookshelf of books. And it seems strange that no one else has.
From where I'm standing, my classmates are smart, fun and capable people. They're pretty cool. I guess I've just gotten kind of used to crazy high-achievers. I miss conversations in the hallways about Heiddegger.
I know. I never thought it would happen either.
Most of them are science majors. Biochemistry, physics. One guy I met is going to be an aerospace engineer. How do you know that about yourself at 18? The science majors outnumber the purely social science majors three to one. Still, I'm not alone! I was sitting next to a sociology major. That....counts. ;) I've met two undecided's already. Uncertainty for the win!
I have become the "English major" to at least three science students, and I do beleive I will start a little side business where I charge people for essay editing. This is the next best business prospect ya'll. It's happenin'.
It's weird. I don't feel nervous. This doesn't even feel that unfamiliar, or new. I'm not worried about sleeping here tonight.
It's my dorm room. All my stuff is here. I have some company, I have my music, and I have my computer. What more could a girl ask for? (In other news, text Sam, her roommate has not yet arrived, and she is playing music to fill some of the quiet). I feel like I belong here. And it's school. I can do school. I love school. I love the learning and the knowing people and the crazy club shenanigans. I feel almost overwhelmingly prepared for this.
Sure, it might change in a couple weeks. I've never been away from home for longer than a month. I've never been away from my family for longer than 5 days. But I think I'll be okay. I'll have the lobby, where there will hopefully be movies, and social eating, and catcalling of the Daily Show (which I will steal the TV for every week). And I'll have the dorm, and Sam's dorm and the other pair of twins across the hall. And I've already met someone from the South, who misses sweet tea, and is (as I am) completely unprepared for the lake effect everything. So yeah Case, I love you. But really, couldn't you change your mascot?
The Spartans? Really?
PS: In other news, I got locked out of my dorm. First day. Locked out of my dorm. Go on, laugh. But know that there is a prize waiting for whomever out there can tell me the best joke about that really-doesn't-need-an-explicit-joke situation.
I vote impresario. To that effect, I have compiled a tentative first semester schedule for Case Western which will undoubtedly offer me more potential bubbles to become part of than I know what to do with. Already I feel the pain of letting some of them drift away from my electronic course registration shopping cart, off into the air, to face the harsh winds of the upper atmosphere. Here it is:
ANTH 102 - Being Human: An Introduction to Social and Cultural Anthropology
BIOL 114 - Principles of Biology
MUAP 121 - Principle Performance Area
MUAP 131 - Secondary Performance Area
MUTH 107 - Theory for Music Majors 1
MUDE 101 - Eurhythmics 1
MUEN 384 - Spartan Marching Band
FSSO 151 - Border Crossings (Seminar)
And all of this is only 17 credit hours, thank goodness. I'm cutting it just under the wire. I already miss those Gallup family bubble sponsored vacations; though hopefully Case will be sponsoring some in their stead in the near future, all in the name of academia.
Another thought that has been weighing on my mind recently: tomorrow, I'm going to send off my flute to Charlotte for perhaps a month of R and R (refurbishment and repair). Will I survive? Will I actually practice other things besides the flute? Will I ever finish reading "Angelmaker"? (That last question just tends to pop up regardless the subject at hand.) Only time will tell. Hopefully the end of this summer will feel more like the Enterprise setting out than a faceful of cold soapy water.
