Harry Potter Weekend

"It is not our abilities that determine who we are, it is our choices"

That's right people. Words of wisdom straight from Dumbledore in the movie/book Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Maybe this is a strange thing to use as a marker in one's life, but Harry Potter and the infamous ABC family Harry Potter Weekends have decorated my life since I was in elementary school. Actually, I just looked it up, and the first book was published in 1997. I was 8. And yes, as every other child in my school, I eagerly awaited the release of each book, and am still, at age 22, awaiting the final movie. 

I have eaten "Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans," the Jelly Belly spin off with flavors ranging from vomit to ear wax. I've owned Harry Potter folders, notebooks and pencils. I've played video games and computer games. Not to mention the hours spent reading and rereading the books themselves. 

And now I sit here on my couch, watching what I guess to be my 8th Harry Potter weekend in 4 years of college. I made an observation once that you can tell when Harry Potter Weekend is taking place. Everyone you know is making random Harry Potter references and you can understand them only because you too were just watching the movies. 

I feel like I've aged along with the characters. For Harry and his friends, life gets darker and more challenging as the saga continues. Enemies are made, lessons are learned, and character is built. Especially after I started living by myself, I began to draw parallels between my life and the world of Hogwarts every Harry Potter Weekend.

When I'm up late, studying or writing a paper, I wonder how Hermione did it- studying and working, always to her best, and still balancing her social life? When I'm laughing so hard that tears come to my eyes, I wonder if Fred and George, the Weasley twins, laughed this hard during all their pranks. When I've had bad experiences with professors and bosses, I consider the reign of Professor Umbridge, and the horror she unleashed in the 6th book. 

Truth be told, I am fully aware that Harry Potter is the figment of J.K. Rowling's imagination. I realize that the books and movies have become largely commercialized and for many, the lessons are lost. I understand that my life is in no way "magical," and I will never be able to fly on my broom. 

But, I can't help but be sucked into the mystical world of Harry Potter Weekend. Where for a few hours, I get some help in putting perspective on how light and promising my life actually is. I mean, no one has tried to kill me yet today. Poor Harry has nearly died 3 times this afternoon!

=) For those of you that have never read the books or seen the movies, most of this post will be lost on you. But, its never too late to start! Want to get lost in a book or see a movie with a real plot? Jump on the band wagon. It's been a fun ride, and if I met Rowling in a bar, I'd shake her hand and buy her a drink. 

Cheerio!

Singing In The Rain

First of all, shoutout to a friend for letting me use her computer to post this. It appears as though the good ol' mac can't do everything, and one of those things is connect to any internet source in Kentucky. I half considered traipsing  to a local Starbucks, and then thought better of it, as I have all the makings of a Starbucks right here at this desk!


1) Good music: Again, Ani is gracing my ears, though we may soon be switching to the August Rush soundtrack.


2) Hot coffee: Yes friends. I have my french vanilla right here. And its WATER BASED! (aka: my lactose intolerance won't be angry later)

3) Computer attached to the internet: Even though its not a mac, it'll do;)


Truth: I have become a total Mac snob since I purchased mine a little over a year ago. Yes, I am still paying for it, but there is just something about opening a shiny silver computer and having it work for you every single time. I just can't tell you what a godsend its been.

Thing is, none of the things above have anything to do with the subject matter I intended to put in this blog. Sometimes, my mind runs away and my typing fingers seem to follow. Back on track though, its raining today! Which for many people in this area, is a little frightening. The Ohio River gets a little full when it rains a lot, and then it floods, and then the roads and backyards and houses and such get submerged in water. If that wasn't enough, the storm drains can flood, and instead of your basement filling with water, it fills with sewage. Yeah, gross.

 Google image reminds me that this isn't the first time the river has flooded, and it certainly won't be the last. That is a perspective that is easy for me to keep, considering I'm only visiting. However, the idea that we have no control over the weather helped to hold me accountable today.

I was reminiscing with a friend this past weekend about my "rain" outfit during my second year at school. If it was raining when I woke up, I can't even tell you how excited I was. Why? I had a pink hat, pink shirt, pink sweats, pink rain boots and a matching pink umbrella that composed my rain outfit. Not only would I remain dry, I would remain dry in style. Or at least so I thought. Some called it my pepto bismol outfit. Others wondered (to themselves and aloud) if my under garments matched the outer. I'll keep that tidbit to myself, but know that every item of that outfit made me feel very happy despite the dismal forecast. Eventually the boots broke, the hat was lost, and all that remains is the pink umbrella. And let me tell you, I have not been so excited about the rain since then.


There were other times in my life when the rain caused more excitement than angst. My first year in college I lived on a quad that would fill completely with water when it rained heavily. Young men and women would don sweats and tshirts and play mud football in the knee-deep water. Sailboats, presumably crafted by the many architecture majors in the area, would float around the nature-made lake, left to their own devices. Watching and sometimes partaking in such shenanigans myself was a highlight of that year of great change.


In my younger years, my parents put an addition on our house. For several months we didn't have a real roof on our kitchen. Blue tarps kept the majority of the critters and elements out, but when it rained, my Mom would dress the three kids in bathing suits and boots and we would push the "water bowls" out of the tarps with broom handles. I remember looking up at all that water and wondering if we were kicking a fish out of its house! Mom likened the whole thing to Noah's Ark, which still brings a smile to my face when I am reminded of that story.



Today, it rained. Its my spring break, and for the second consecutive year, I've seen more rain than sun. I was very tempted to remain inside today, filling out job applications and doing laundry. But a mood to get out took over me. So I strapped on the Nikes, broke out my new orange headphones, found my newest playlist and then proceeded to go on my first run in at least a month and a half. I have a bit of a cough, so the first 10 minutes consisted of me coughing up a lung. Luckily, there weren't many people around to judge so I trekked on unquestioned. I had decided I was going to run down to the river and check out the high waters I had seen video of on the news, and sure enough, the shoreline was much receded. Had I chosen to get closer, it would have been more than rainwater in my shoes.



At this point in the run, I had to be a good mile away from where I was staying. Since I ran a 5k last spring (yes, that's another story for another entry) I have continued running, but never more than a mile or two at best. I was feeling pretty tired, but then I got a crazy idea. "Self, you have all the time in the world, you should run across the bridge." I mean, why the heck not? In a few months I'll be in Alaska, running from bears, so I should probably start doing a little training. Off I ran, across this bridge. Well, it turned into a lot more speed walking, with the occasional stop to wipe some of the water off my glasses. It wasn't until after I had gone across the bridge that I realized I was a lonnnnnnnng way from dry clothes. I decided I didn't want to run back across the same bridge, so I jogged a couple blocks down the river and crossed on a pedestrian bridge.


It was on this bridge, my clothes completely saturated, water dripping down my face, droplets hanging on my earlobes, that I realized why I had grown to hate the rain. If you're going someplace or meeting someone, you're expected to look a certain way. Every item in my wardrobe has a calculated meaning. My hair is cut in a way that is supposed to be fun and mature. My rather pricey glasses frames were meant to make a statement as well. But when you're dripping wet, freezing cold, and running past a school bus full of kids, you realize that none of it matters. The image, the pretense - it only matters if it matters to you.


As I prepare to make a voyage to a place that millions of people will never lay eyes on, I have an opportunity. As I leave my home of four years and begin searching out a new sort of life, I have a choice.
These are the questions I'll be asking:
-What is most important?
-Who will be along for the ride?
-Where will my adventures take me?

Will I cry because of the rain, or will I sing in it? You are invited to follow along and find out!

Keeping It Classy

Right now. Right this very instant. I am writing a blog in my lecture class. I wish I could tell you this was the first time I've been distracted in class, but truth be told, I have a history with this sort of thing.

Fall Semester: 2007
+Chemistry 8am: Attended in a hoodie and sweats...the perfect disguise for an ipod and a nap
+Teaching Methods 101: Wear a hat...and take a nap

Spring Semester: 2008
+Chemistry 8am (notice a trend?): Write a small novel about life until 2008

Fall 2008-Spring 2009: 
+Go to class as infrequently as possible
+Find out that in the 5 weeks of geology I skipped, there was a group project assigned
Professor: "Class, get with your group and figure out what you're doing for the presentation next week"
Me: "Presentation...? Group...? School...? Drool...?"

Fall 2009 Semester:
+Try diligently to attend class, even if it sometimes seems like no amount of trying will allow me to pass organic chemistry.
+Computer crash causes minor meltdown

Spring 2010 Semester: 
+Accidentally sleep through the last genetics lecture of the semester (I passed that class by only 1 point)

Fall 2010 Semester:
+Student teaching leads to major reform
+No days skipped!
+Sleeping goes by the wayside
+Professional napping degree acquired

Spring 2011 Semester:
+Thus far, only one class skipped
+Professional napping continues

Although that list makes it look a little like I've only attended about 50% of my college education that I paid a zillion and one dollars for, I have been at least physically present in many of my classes. And though I may miss much of the information being presented, I have picked up some rather funny quotes and found myself in some silly circumstances.

"Have you ever seen a brick wall?" -- Excuse me professor, where do I go to school? EVERY BUILDING ON CAMPUS IS MADE OF BRICK!

"I LOVE playing with these simulations! They are so fascinating. " -- A professor I had that had personal epiphanies brought on by her own lectures every week.

The first chemistry professor I had was Canadian. For a short while, I hated the entire country of Canada. For no apparent reason.

My environmental ecology teacher told us one day that she was finally getting her PhD and she would be moving on to do a study on prairie dog fleas!....woot woot?

My teaching methods classes included mental breakdowns on the part of the more anxious members of the cohort. I was publicly chastised in a classroom for the first time in my life (unrightfully so, if I may add). And I had a professor who was teaching us teaching strategies but couldn't bring herself to look anyone in the eye. The entire 16 weeks of lecture was spoken to the back wall.

Favorite Class: Educational Leadership 318
-Talk about issues in education
-Realize that my future peers may be a little clueless
-Define educational philosophy

Least Favorite Classes: Genetics, All Chemistry, Classroom Management
-Teachers are bullies
-Content is difficult
-I was too busy being mad to learn

Most Difficult Class: Cell Biology
-The tests were as follows: Teacher thinks of topic in head. Writes a paragraph about it. Erases select words in the paragraph that you must now fill in. Try this one on for size...

"The _______ is __________ and _____________." Um, oh, I know!
 The test is confusing and I'm screwed.

Easiest Class: Technology In Education
-All assignments done in class.
-Second half of the class was two online tests that we never had to take.
-Game. Set. Match.

It seems a little strange to me now that I can summarize my entire 4 years of college courses into one blog entry, but you know what....I don't think college is about class. Sorry everyone. Hate to burst your bubble. But college is actually about growing up.

Which is exactly why whiny people in class who are mad that they can't attend the review session at 8pm tonight because they already have another review session for 37 hours......screw them.

Congratulations to my peers who are honoring Green Beer Day today by coming to class drunk. I wish you all the best as you try to take the lab midterm cross-eyed. Please don't puke on me. And no, I won't help you tie your shoes. You're an adult.

Tastes Like Chicken-n-Pesto

As I sit here, stuffed to overflowing with Paesano's pasta, I thought I would take a hot minute to reminisce about some super sweet meals I've had over the past few years. Dinner especially has come to mean a lot to me. It's a time for "fellowship," as one of my friends would say. And I'm now in the habit of making sure that dinner is my time. The phone is silenced, the blinders are on, and there is no work to be spoken for. Even if its just for an hour, I allow my world to spin a little slower.

I have not always embraced this fine philosophy of mine. As a first year, I could be seen running back and forth from the various "a-la-carte" establishments on campus, stir fry or sandwich in hand, ready for my next music rehearsal. My various activities consumed my life to the point that I was much more at ease eating on the run. I carried everything I owned in a messenger bag, and it is a miracle indeed that I didn't develop more serious back or shoulder issues.


That year was not good for my health. We'll leave it at that for now.

My second year on campus, I became rather engrossed in the community I lived in, and that led to a lot more sit-down meals. It was in this year that I became attached to the buffet style dining halls, where I would spend hour after hour, sitting, eating and just shooting the you know what. I remember lunches and dinners both when I left that place laughing so hard I was crying. One of the girls that was often at my table once cried so hard she peed her pants! At a breakfast outing one morning, some guys I was with ended up starting a giant grape war that I was sure would land us kicked out for good. By far, the funniest event of the season would be when someone would improperly dispose of a tray. There was a strange conveyer belt system that lead down a shoot to the basement of the dining hall. If you happened to miss the proper rack, the tray and all the plates on it would go tumbling down the 10ft shoot and you could hear the glass shatter. I often wondered if the people down below had to wear safety goggles, as I'm sure the broken cutlery produced shrapnel-like shards that would surely slice your face up if you didn't watch out. We would sometimes joke about going in for lunch at 11  and refusing to leave until after dinner was over at 7. It was in that year that I began to learn the beauty of a sit-down dinner. No matter what was going on, I could always afford an hour. And hour to forget about work and school, and just be.

In my third year, the fellowship of dinner became necessity. Life was in a weird place, and the stress of everyday living was a bit much for this girl to handle. The obvious answer was 2 hour dinners where I tried to reinvent the wheel of the tired dining hall. I still have pictures of some tasty looking pasta dishes I managed to dress up, and I'll be forever indebted to the woman who opened my eyes to the wonders of strawberries dipped in hot fudge from the ice cream bar. At dinner that year, I usually limited myself to 15 minutes of complaining. After that, it was time to find a new topic. That, friends, is called survival of the fittest. Stay sane or go home.

Luckily, all of my years on campus have culminated to this last one, where I find myself, yet again immersed in the dining halls. The fellowship is still ever-present, but I do admit, I'm kind of over the food. With no energy left to reinvent the wheel, I'm left chewing on "shoe leather meat," chased down with juice concentrate (no, I didn't write that incorrectly. Most juice is from concentrate. They forgot to add water I think, because our juice is just straight up, rip the enamel from your teeth, concentrate.) But, you know what? Even though the chicken tastes like the pork tastes like the beef, and the pasta is coated in slimy butter, and the salad in the bar is a little rotten, I still make a voyage there every day for dinner. Alone or with friends, I'm always down for a little dinner style down time.

Firsts and Lasts

As a future educator and a longtime student, I realize the importance of outcomes. If I don't have a goal in mind, then why am I sitting here typing away? I've perused many a blog and found that the best and most well written forums have a direction. Not that I always research before a make a decision, but in this case, my previous experiences have allowed research to be made part of this blog. So, for my own sake and the sake of the reader, I'll outline the goal of this blog.

My life is a series of firsts and lasts. As Ani Difranco says in her song Talk To Me Now :

"And I was blessed with a birth and a death, and I guess I just want some say in between."

I've heard many times that life is about the journey, and yet, my focus is often drawn to the beginning and the end. In order to remember the "in between" and come to terms with an end, I have started this blog.

On Saturday, June 11th, 2011, I will board a plane and fly to Anchorage, Alaska. Between now and then, I will have my last staff meeting as an RA, I'll attend my last college course as an undergrad, I'll lead my last meeting as a sorority president, I'll pack up my things and say my goodbyes, and I'll move forward.

Over the past 4 years, I have made some memories. I've skinned a few knees. I've compartmentalized enormous amounts of emotion, good and bad. And though I can quantify the dollar signs on my university experience, I don't think I'll ever be able to qualify it.

From here on, the words, the stories and the thoughts that pour out will be a testament to an end, a beginning and everything in between. The blog will culminate in a 7 day journal that will outline my entire Alaskan adventure. If nothing else, the Grizzly Bears will have something to laugh about while they rip my arms off in the Alaskan wilderness.

Comments are welcome, as are silent readers. Do what you need to do. It's your life. And you're free to be who you want to be.

Now go forth and use your powers for good!