To those about to rock:
Today is Thursday - exams began today. In about two and a half hours, it will be Friday. There will be a weekend, and it will be Monday, just like every week of every month of every year for infinity. Whether or not time runs like this everywhere else doesn't matter - we're here today and gone tomorrow, no matter what parallel universe we're living in. So right now, I'm sitting in the library "studying" for an anthropology class, when really I'm blogging and listening to Brahms thanks to Pandora. It's rather dramatic.
This will be my last post as a freshman. I don't know what great knowledge I should share with future freshmen. I guess one thing I could say is that I haven't drastically changed. I'm not a dramatically different person, however, if I was a lump of clay before I came to Appalachian, you could say that now I have become a more defined piece of artwork. So when you enter this life and are intimidated by upperclassmen, don't fret - because they don't change, they just shape-shift, and soon enough you will too.
Be who you are - make friends like you've always made friends - don't jump into some off the wall group just so you can identify yourself as "that person" that hangs out with "that group." You don't need an identity, because you already have one and you've always had one - and that is your family and friends and experiences.
Don't be close-minded. Think before you speak, before you jump, and before you sign up for that 8 AM class. And have fun, because you can only do this once.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, March 22, 2010
Vive la ʻohana
I don't speak French, and I don't speak ʻŌlelo Hawaiʻi, but I like to combine them.
In theory, it means "Long live ʻohana." What is ʻohana? Let me tell you a story.
Jenna was new on our hall. She just popped up after Christmas break, and I thought Jenna was cool (and I guess she still is). One snowy day, Natalie, my friend who lives in the room beside me, decided to make potatoes out of a box, and Jenna went with her on this potato adventure. They were downstairs in the kitchen when I ran into them.
We all decided to wait for the potatoes to bake, and while we waited, we watched Extreme Makeover Home Edition. The show happened to be at a house in Hawaii. I think it was a house that had been ravaged by some horrible storm or natural disaster. Like every episode, the entire community helped in repairing and rebuilding this torn home.
It was a struggle - a struggle for the family who had seen their home become just another ruin of a storm, and it was a struggle for those who worked tirelessly to rebuild the house. Ty Pennington, the host of Extreme Makeover, made a statement about this - he said that the people who struggled together, the community, the family - they were ʻohana, as it is said in Hawaii.
I turned to Jenna. "We're ʻohana."
She looked at me funny. "What?"
"We're ʻohana."
"Okay, Carrie." It seemed like a bizarre statement, but there was a mutual understanding.
We live and we go through struggles together, so we, the girls who live on and around our hall, are ʻohana. It's unconditional. When we can't sleep, we talk it over. When we can't study anymore, we press on. When we're stressed, we split a roll of cookie dough. When we cry, scream, laugh, or stumble, we do it together, because we're family.
Like Lilo and Stitch once said: "ʻOhana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind."
Who's your ʻohana?
In theory, it means "Long live ʻohana." What is ʻohana? Let me tell you a story.
Jenna was new on our hall. She just popped up after Christmas break, and I thought Jenna was cool (and I guess she still is). One snowy day, Natalie, my friend who lives in the room beside me, decided to make potatoes out of a box, and Jenna went with her on this potato adventure. They were downstairs in the kitchen when I ran into them.
We all decided to wait for the potatoes to bake, and while we waited, we watched Extreme Makeover Home Edition. The show happened to be at a house in Hawaii. I think it was a house that had been ravaged by some horrible storm or natural disaster. Like every episode, the entire community helped in repairing and rebuilding this torn home.
It was a struggle - a struggle for the family who had seen their home become just another ruin of a storm, and it was a struggle for those who worked tirelessly to rebuild the house. Ty Pennington, the host of Extreme Makeover, made a statement about this - he said that the people who struggled together, the community, the family - they were ʻohana, as it is said in Hawaii.
I turned to Jenna. "We're ʻohana."
She looked at me funny. "What?"
"We're ʻohana."
"Okay, Carrie." It seemed like a bizarre statement, but there was a mutual understanding.
We live and we go through struggles together, so we, the girls who live on and around our hall, are ʻohana. It's unconditional. When we can't sleep, we talk it over. When we can't study anymore, we press on. When we're stressed, we split a roll of cookie dough. When we cry, scream, laugh, or stumble, we do it together, because we're family.
Like Lilo and Stitch once said: "ʻOhana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind."
Who's your ʻohana?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Blizzard Part 2
Honorary degrees in computers. I don't think they have these, but they should. Every student has computer troubles - you can be the most tech savvy person in the world, yet something will plague you. It doesn't matter where you get the computer from - you're just going to encounter problems - and somehow, you - the student - are going to figure out exactly how to fix this complex problem through a series of Googling and visits to a manufacturers website.
I live for computers. I love computers. My life consists of: the little screened notebook, food, and Thursday nights (that's when The Office comes on).
Yesterday, my roommate ran into our hall lobby and started to tell me about the strange sounds my computer was making in our room and the smoke that was coming out of it. I almost started to cry - and then, as I darted for my room, she ended her panic with "just kidding." Sam, if you're reading this, don't think I'm not going to get back at you.
So today, I am in front of my beloved blue rectangle blogging at the student union with my headphones in listening to MSTRKRFT. I'm looking outside, and if I walked out there I imagine I would only be able to see five feet in front of me. I can only compare this wind and snow to the great blizzard. And you know what, it figures that my first year in college would mark the resurgence of horrible winter weather. I think someone up there is just trying to make up for the many years I missed out on snow in my life. Okay, thank you Mr. Cloudy Sky, but seriously, I think I've had like a good three years worth of snow withing a couple of months.
It's funny because the first night it was supposed to snow after we got back from Christmas break, I told everyone on my hall that we should do a rain dance so that we wouldn't have classes the next day - so we looked up rain dances on YouTube, and none of us had the guts to do the dance or say whatever it is the dancer was saying, so we just danced to some rap music instead. I guess it worked because the next day, school was canceled, and we didn't go into class until 11:00 the next day. The next week they called for a blizzard - and now the sky looks like chaos. I regret any rain dances that we unintentionally performed, and I would like to apologize to the general public.
At this point in my blog, I would like to mention two things. First, this year has broken many winter records for the town of Boone, and this weather only occurs in 50ish year cycles, unless some drastic global warming crisis takes place in the next couple years. Second, I get all my Boone weather from Ray's Weather. He's a computer science professor here, and we blame him for all the bad weather we get (not really). All of his stuff is so accurate, it makes you wonder if he's causing it... Suspicion...
Yesterday, my roommate ran into our hall lobby and started to tell me about the strange sounds my computer was making in our room and the smoke that was coming out of it. I almost started to cry - and then, as I darted for my room, she ended her panic with "just kidding." Sam, if you're reading this, don't think I'm not going to get back at you.
So today, I am in front of my beloved blue rectangle blogging at the student union with my headphones in listening to MSTRKRFT. I'm looking outside, and if I walked out there I imagine I would only be able to see five feet in front of me. I can only compare this wind and snow to the great blizzard. And you know what, it figures that my first year in college would mark the resurgence of horrible winter weather. I think someone up there is just trying to make up for the many years I missed out on snow in my life. Okay, thank you Mr. Cloudy Sky, but seriously, I think I've had like a good three years worth of snow withing a couple of months.
It's funny because the first night it was supposed to snow after we got back from Christmas break, I told everyone on my hall that we should do a rain dance so that we wouldn't have classes the next day - so we looked up rain dances on YouTube, and none of us had the guts to do the dance or say whatever it is the dancer was saying, so we just danced to some rap music instead. I guess it worked because the next day, school was canceled, and we didn't go into class until 11:00 the next day. The next week they called for a blizzard - and now the sky looks like chaos. I regret any rain dances that we unintentionally performed, and I would like to apologize to the general public.
At this point in my blog, I would like to mention two things. First, this year has broken many winter records for the town of Boone, and this weather only occurs in 50ish year cycles, unless some drastic global warming crisis takes place in the next couple years. Second, I get all my Boone weather from Ray's Weather. He's a computer science professor here, and we blame him for all the bad weather we get (not really). All of his stuff is so accurate, it makes you wonder if he's causing it... Suspicion...
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Snow, Saints, and Gas Laws
Yesterday, it snowed.
Today, the Saints won the Super Bowl.
Tomorrow, I have a chemistry exam.
The fate of the world lies in one weekend.
Today, the Saints won the Super Bowl.
Tomorrow, I have a chemistry exam.
The fate of the world lies in one weekend.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Put your records on - it's FRIDAY!
At this very moment, students are getting concerned phone calls from their parents - and most of the calls sound like this:
**Eggers: The dorm with a lot of stairs in front of it. I know someone who tumbled down those stairs.
Update 1/30/2010: You can watch some of the snow here:
"Did you know they're calling for more than ten inches of snow?"
"Yes, mom. I live here."
"You know you're not going to be able to get out anywhere, right?"
"No mom, I planned on riding my tauntaun* to Wal-mart."
"What's a tauntaun? Is that slang? Are you doing drugs?"
"No, mother."
"Well go to the grocery store and get lots of canned food and a flashlight - oh, and do you still have that first aid kit I sent you?"
"I ran out of supplies when I fell down three flights of stairs in front of Eggers**."
"You fell down some stairs!?! Why didn't you tell me?!?"
"Okay mom, I'm going now... I have, uh, class."
"I love you! Don't do anything stupid on the ice! Call me first thing in the morning!"
[click]
*tauntaun: A camel-like creature from the hit movie The Empire Strikes Back. Luke Skywalker rides one at the beginning of the movie. Here's a picture, and here's a video if you're even more interested.
**Eggers: The dorm with a lot of stairs in front of it. I know someone who tumbled down those stairs.
Update 1/30/2010: You can watch some of the snow here:
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
What are you gonna do with your life?
People ask me that question a lot - you know - what's your major? What do you want to do? What field do you plan on entering?
And sadly (or curiously, depending on your outlook), my answer to that question has not changed since I entered high school at the great age of thirteen: I don't know.
I don't know what I want to do. I don't know my major. I don't even have plans for the future. Some people find it "noble" to live the life that "rolls with the punches" or that plays by ear. I find that the more I play by ear, the more lost I tend to get.
Don't get me wrong - the spontaneous life has its advantages. I am stress free most of the time. My friends tell me I'm very open and accepting because I'm never tense about, well, anything. I'm good at being without stress, and I guess if there was an occupation for that, I would succeed. Sure, I could take on a high stress job and live without having a heart attack, but it would hardly be a passion if I wasn't invested in it in the first place.
So what is my passion? Let me tell you: I like stories.
Today, as I was watching Jerry Springer in between afternoon classes, I had a brilliant idea. I was going to write a book about a young adult trying to get on the Jerry Springer show. Here's the plot...
Sherrie is an eighteen year old musician living in the small town of Boone, North Carolina. She has a wonderful boyfriend, and she is content with studying and playing at local shows - that is, until she is discovered by the legendary record label Jive (of Nsync and the Backstreet Boys). Her trip to Hollywood (without her boyfriend - she breaks up when she knows she's going big) is filled with publicity, booze, recklessness, and atrocious Lady Gaga-like fashion.
When her friends abandon her, she feels lonely, but her heart hardens like the Pharaoh. She goes on for 3 years after her rise to stardom, thinking she has conquered her loneliness and her conquest has made her stronger, but suddenly, her label drops her, because her genre (which was a dying genre to begin with) is no longer popular. She tries modify herself, and redefine herself into what is now popular, but it's too late, because she doesn't remember who she is anymore.
She now recalls the love she lost those years ago in Boone. The boyfriend who supported her - and the friends who loved her - they were gone now. Her skin had gotten thick. Her crutches - the money and the fame - were gone. Sherrie was now confined to a one bedroom apartment back in Greenville, North Carolina. She started out again. She started playing shows at the local hookah bar, but she still longed for people in her life.
She needed an audience again. She needed to tell the world that she still loved and cared for her friends. Sherrie called Jerry - Jerry Springer that is, and asked to do a spot on his show. He consented, because at this point in the future, he was no longer allowed to have opposing groups on television, after someone was killed on a live edition of his show. His show was now reserved for the likes of Sherrie, musicians who had lost their spark.
So that day, when people are usually taking their post-lunch nap, Sherrie told the world how she felt. She apologized to her friends. She told her ex-boyfriend that she still loved him. She told her parents she missed them (sorry, I just needed three elements so I thought I'd throw her parents in the mix).
So, in a Deus ex machinae turn of events (look it up), and since the show was still Jerry Springer - Jerry had a surprise up his sleeves. From behind the set walked the boyfriend (his character has no name), Sherrie's friends, and even the family dog, Sparky! They were all reunited on the trashiest show in America. Sherrie went back to school and did a show every now and then. The boyfriend stayed with her and supported her - and eventually he won the lottery, so they were filthy stinkin rich. The end.
So there, Ladies and Gentlemen, is my talent - my passion. I like making up ridiculous stories that have a distorted moral and where the ending is that of a Bollywood film (no offense to the genre, but they do end the same). I dedicate this post to my friend Meredith, who inspired me to write senseless stories, even when I do find them enjoyable to write.
Much love, peace, and Bojangles,
Carrie Gold
And sadly (or curiously, depending on your outlook), my answer to that question has not changed since I entered high school at the great age of thirteen: I don't know.
I don't know what I want to do. I don't know my major. I don't even have plans for the future. Some people find it "noble" to live the life that "rolls with the punches" or that plays by ear. I find that the more I play by ear, the more lost I tend to get.
Don't get me wrong - the spontaneous life has its advantages. I am stress free most of the time. My friends tell me I'm very open and accepting because I'm never tense about, well, anything. I'm good at being without stress, and I guess if there was an occupation for that, I would succeed. Sure, I could take on a high stress job and live without having a heart attack, but it would hardly be a passion if I wasn't invested in it in the first place.
So what is my passion? Let me tell you: I like stories.
Today, as I was watching Jerry Springer in between afternoon classes, I had a brilliant idea. I was going to write a book about a young adult trying to get on the Jerry Springer show. Here's the plot...
Sherrie is an eighteen year old musician living in the small town of Boone, North Carolina. She has a wonderful boyfriend, and she is content with studying and playing at local shows - that is, until she is discovered by the legendary record label Jive (of Nsync and the Backstreet Boys). Her trip to Hollywood (without her boyfriend - she breaks up when she knows she's going big) is filled with publicity, booze, recklessness, and atrocious Lady Gaga-like fashion.
When her friends abandon her, she feels lonely, but her heart hardens like the Pharaoh. She goes on for 3 years after her rise to stardom, thinking she has conquered her loneliness and her conquest has made her stronger, but suddenly, her label drops her, because her genre (which was a dying genre to begin with) is no longer popular. She tries modify herself, and redefine herself into what is now popular, but it's too late, because she doesn't remember who she is anymore.
She now recalls the love she lost those years ago in Boone. The boyfriend who supported her - and the friends who loved her - they were gone now. Her skin had gotten thick. Her crutches - the money and the fame - were gone. Sherrie was now confined to a one bedroom apartment back in Greenville, North Carolina. She started out again. She started playing shows at the local hookah bar, but she still longed for people in her life.
She needed an audience again. She needed to tell the world that she still loved and cared for her friends. Sherrie called Jerry - Jerry Springer that is, and asked to do a spot on his show. He consented, because at this point in the future, he was no longer allowed to have opposing groups on television, after someone was killed on a live edition of his show. His show was now reserved for the likes of Sherrie, musicians who had lost their spark.
So that day, when people are usually taking their post-lunch nap, Sherrie told the world how she felt. She apologized to her friends. She told her ex-boyfriend that she still loved him. She told her parents she missed them (sorry, I just needed three elements so I thought I'd throw her parents in the mix).
So, in a Deus ex machinae turn of events (look it up), and since the show was still Jerry Springer - Jerry had a surprise up his sleeves. From behind the set walked the boyfriend (his character has no name), Sherrie's friends, and even the family dog, Sparky! They were all reunited on the trashiest show in America. Sherrie went back to school and did a show every now and then. The boyfriend stayed with her and supported her - and eventually he won the lottery, so they were filthy stinkin rich. The end.
So there, Ladies and Gentlemen, is my talent - my passion. I like making up ridiculous stories that have a distorted moral and where the ending is that of a Bollywood film (no offense to the genre, but they do end the same). I dedicate this post to my friend Meredith, who inspired me to write senseless stories, even when I do find them enjoyable to write.
Much love, peace, and Bojangles,
Carrie Gold
Saturday, January 23, 2010
A Guide to Hallway Drama
It happens to everyone. There is drama everywhere - in classrooms, in households, in workplaces, in EVERYWHERE.
I came to Appalachian for a variety of reasons, but one of them was to escape the drama of Greenville, North Carolina - to escape all my acquaintances that would end up going to college down the street at ECU. As it turns out, there is no escape. Your only escape is to know how to handle yourself.
Anytime I think of drama or of a fight, I think of a scene from the movie Mean Girls:
It is too bad we can't just fight it out, right? I mean, things would be so much simpler if after someone threw a few punches, it was all over. People would take sides and winner would take all. Punches or no punches, there is a serious problem on your hands. So today I have made up a step by step guide to clearing the area and avoiding a all out riot.
1. Keep your lips sealed.
>That means don't talk junk about your opponent, not even to your side.
>Don't tell new people about your situation unless they are a person of authority or they have some kind of key to ending the drama.
2. Stay cool. Don't cuss. Don't punch. Just stay cool - it's the biggest challenge, but if you succeed in doing so, it shows your opponent that you have strength.
3. Confront. Unless you are physically threatened, don't bring the whole posse.
>Make sure you've covered steps one and two before step three.
I came to Appalachian for a variety of reasons, but one of them was to escape the drama of Greenville, North Carolina - to escape all my acquaintances that would end up going to college down the street at ECU. As it turns out, there is no escape. Your only escape is to know how to handle yourself.
Anytime I think of drama or of a fight, I think of a scene from the movie Mean Girls:
It is too bad we can't just fight it out, right? I mean, things would be so much simpler if after someone threw a few punches, it was all over. People would take sides and winner would take all. Punches or no punches, there is a serious problem on your hands. So today I have made up a step by step guide to clearing the area and avoiding a all out riot.
1. Keep your lips sealed.
>That means don't talk junk about your opponent, not even to your side.
>Don't tell new people about your situation unless they are a person of authority or they have some kind of key to ending the drama.
2. Stay cool. Don't cuss. Don't punch. Just stay cool - it's the biggest challenge, but if you succeed in doing so, it shows your opponent that you have strength.
3. Confront. Unless you are physically threatened, don't bring the whole posse.
>Make sure you've covered steps one and two before step three.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Things I Should Not Say
Have fun storming the castle!
Internet things that shouldn't be allowed:
10. Sensitive people on Facebook.
9. Bad Websites, like a site that sets you up with inmates. Does Not Equal Prison Break.
8. Myspace: It's over.
7. Yahoo Mail. They promised spam protection but there's this Nigerian prince that still needs my 200 dollars!
6. Pictures with animals and captions. Lame.
5. Dancing Baby is too old too fast. I think it turned 10 years old a while ago.
4. Viral videos of cats unless you're these guys!
3, 2, 1... To be continued.
Internet things that shouldn't be allowed:
10. Sensitive people on Facebook.
9. Bad Websites, like a site that sets you up with inmates. Does Not Equal Prison Break.
8. Myspace: It's over.
7. Yahoo Mail. They promised spam protection but there's this Nigerian prince that still needs my 200 dollars!
6. Pictures with animals and captions. Lame.
5. Dancing Baby is too old too fast. I think it turned 10 years old a while ago.
4. Viral videos of cats unless you're these guys!
3, 2, 1... To be continued.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Hello.
I'm between classes right now. I have awkward breaks because I made sure to schedule my entire life to start after 11 AM, so that I will never have to wake up at 7:30 to get to the CAP building again.
Skipping 8 AM classes really takes a toll on your grade.
Sometimes when I'm bored, I rearrange the furniture in my room. I don't think my roommate likes it, but seriously. If something is left in the same spot for too long, I get annoyed with it. It's not like there is a lot of room to be moving things around. I know people who have closets bigger than this, but maybe I'm expecting too much. I do get free cable.
Skipping 8 AM classes really takes a toll on your grade.
Sometimes when I'm bored, I rearrange the furniture in my room. I don't think my roommate likes it, but seriously. If something is left in the same spot for too long, I get annoyed with it. It's not like there is a lot of room to be moving things around. I know people who have closets bigger than this, but maybe I'm expecting too much. I do get free cable.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)