Sunday, October 25, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Staying true to my nature as a college student, I am sitting here thinking of the things I want to to in order to avoid what I need to do (which is obviously to continue studying). So I ask you to share your 1) Most hilarious midterm moment (like turning a study session into a gossiping session like I did with the lovely and talented Co-President, Jessica Mazzie, just the other day), 2) your most terrifying midterm moment (like forgetting the test was tomorrow or studying the wrong chapters, etc.), or 3) your most outrageous midterm experience (like locking your keys in your car while picking up a redbull right before the exam)! All of these would be in the very least interesting to read, especially coming from the Honors crowd.
I can honestly say from experience, while we may be the best at what we do academically, sometimes you just can't fight the truth that we too do some pretty childish/odd/funny/moronic (yeah I said it) things.
I wonder which of us will have the best story?!
- Christopher Hicks
Friday, October 16, 2009
I scoured the kitchen…looking for caffeine. A preliminary search revealed little hope. Soda, which I’ve had too much of in my life (trying to cut back, you see) is out. Tea, which is good for morning, but not so much for certain metabolisms in which the caffeine might not affect the system in the same manner in the midst of altered mindsets (i.e. Sleep Deprivation) of certain people (me), is out as well. This left… coffee. Mmmm… coffee… Knowing how tired I was earlier, and knowing my fourth (or is it fifth?) wind would give out any second… I tried a mixture…
As with most things coming from a kitchen at two in the morning, the aroma, while pleasing, left an awful aftertaste and stained my teeth. This was the strong stuff. Albeit mixing brewed coffee and instant coffee might seem, well, redundant, it was two in the morning and I was already suffering from sleep deprivation. as stated earlier. I tend to repeat myself in such dire times. I tend to repeat myself in such dire times. The substance made my teeth itch, and made my insides turn an awful color I’m sure. I tried to pour some cream into the… well, I dunno what to call it. Anyway, the darkness existing in this already shaking mug (or is that my arm?) enveloped the cream quickly - never to be seen again. I took a sip and it reminded me of fishing with some buddies from work. It was early and the sugar was at the bottom of the supply box and, afraid to look like a sissy, I settled for a dab of creamer in my coffee and was able to hold it down. Consequently that’s the same trip in which I learned to appreciate the amphetamine affects of pure percolated black coffee. Back to tonight. I barely suppressed my gag reflex for several reasons, one, I need the caffeine to set in, but mostly because I was afraid of the vomit - the taste, the smell, I wondered about the color as well. You would understand if you saw that coffee.
After the first mug, my arm wasn’t shaking any more, just the rest of my body. And the room. Probably the world, too. A wolf howled in the distance. I offered some coffee to the man standing next to me, before I realized that it wasn’t a person, but a manifestation of my spirit outside my body, taking refuge from the ill effects. That is, the vomiting. He took some anyway though, and then he promptly rushed to the bathroom. I wasn’t distraught, mostly because I knew I didn’t need a soul to write my English paper. The world stopped shaking, and an evil spirit rose from the cup and forced me to add butterscotch chips to what I can only assume is now a living mixture. It also possessed my body to force a cup of butterscotch pitch black slightly creamed instewed (instant + brewed) coffee down my piehole. I wondered where the word piehole came from when I regained control of most of my bodily functions; however I was still unable to stop my heart. Amazingly, at this point my gag reflex gave way and as a courtesy to the readers at home, or really, wherever you are, I will omit this…colorful description of my… pitch black… uncontrollable… projectile… nevermind.
The world gave up shaking altogether and decided to spin instead. I sat down, and poured whatever was left down the drain. Dad says the plumbers will be out on Tuesday and until then we’ll need to go to other places for running water and bathroom privileges. Also he said the drains have never been cleaner. He inquired about the butterscotch chips and I admitted dairy related addiction, and I go to a group on Friday. The English paper isn’t written, and this paper you are reading now (or that is being read to you) represents a quality thirty minutes of procrastination. My spleen is singing Irish drinking songs that I’ve never heard of and my stomach still refuses consolation. An MRI would surely reveal black spots along major blood lines and important organs, and I am neither surprised nor distraught, because those are merely aftereffects of said coffee and I’m sure they’ll wear off promptly after death. Even if they do match my shoes. My eyeballs philosophize about colors and higher meaning when my ears get involved. Tensions are only stressed when they take sides and once again my teeth are forced to mediate. As with most debates, things get political and my ears fire-bomb my eyes, resulting in bloodshot…ness. My nose has yet to forgive me for other reasons. I’m shaking again but only because it’s cold, and the letters on this paper are fighting with odd Yiddish weaponry. Mostly Throwing Stars of David. My bed welcomed me as a weary traveler welcomes cacti. Slowly fading into unconsciousness, I realized that sleep was impossible and remembered my English paper. I was suddenly aware that I hadn’t blinked in an hour and a half and I realized that I was hungry. I lazily walked to the kitchen, and evaluated my options. After ten minutes of this, I decided to experiment.
As with most things coming from the kitchen at two-thirty in the morning…
Monday, October 12, 2009
I was just sitting here wondering what I should be for Halloween. It is my absolute favorite holiday, if only for the fact that more horror flicks are on, and everyone gets to dress up in terrifyingly outrageous costumes. So to get to the point, does anyone have any great costume ideas or like to share what they will be dressing up as this year?
Finding a costume for a guy is difficult because the only real male costumes I have found are ridiculous. They are all along the lines of some hefty version of a normal costume, something extremely perverse, or just plain stupid. And as far as female costumes go, they are generally all the same (a skimpy version of a well-known character, etc.).
Why is it SO difficult to find a good costume?! I guess I could always make a costume, but that is where all of you come in. I need the ideas in order to choose the perfect one. So please, share your ideas on future or past costumes, and hopefully in your attempt to help me, you can gain some insight as well.
Monday, October 5, 2009
"Short on Reading" by Molly Sroges
Life of Pi by Yann Martel
By now, there is a good chance you're familiar with Yann Martel's Life of Pi: a young boy stuck in a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with a tiger. I will tell you something else: Pi has three religions, and that's why I opened the book. By the time I closed it, it had found its place among my favorites. I have heard others argue that it drags, it's unbelievable, and it's just downright weird, but you have to try it for yourself before you can criticize it. A bit of advice if you do pick it up: read the Author's Note at the beginning. It's more of a prologue really.
It's the book for you if... you dare to believe in God.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Goodbye to the Fireflies by Ioan Belovarski
Birds call onward in the evening sky –
Their flutter of wings, a faintest goodbye –
As blue sky recedes to the natural black
And night embarks on its fated track
And all the while I look out dead –
There’s little left in my emptied head –
But I see the moon make its steady rise
Midst the quiet buzz of the fireflies
Thus one thought springs in my reverie –
It’s not something I would wish to see –
I simply cannot help but wonder at why
I choose to live and not just to die
When everything tells me there’s no more light –
The future’s not clear, but it’s also not bright –
Should I even bother to continue my stay
And fade as fireflies do in the day?