I Can See the Decemberists from My House!

Two days ago, Spring Fling occurred in my backyard.  An interesting experience, one altogether different from most of the things that happen here.  For a school that is considered populated by nerds, we, as a student body, got collectively smashed.  

However, it was an amazing time had by all.  Free stuff, and really good music, especially the student bands, the Decemberists, and Girl Talk.  

A whole new population ventured into the sunlight for a while; the tall gentlemen with beer bellies and a propensity for taking off clothing to show off muscle showed themselves where before they were hardly a blip on my visual radar.  They wore shirts with greek letters, and bizarre hats.  They stumbled onto old campus, and made it their own.  They started the mosh pits, they were enthusiastic.  And they bucked the Ivy League stereotype.  

I nearly died during a chicken fight breakout during the Decemberists' set.  Fighting my way out of the sea of the drunken, I made it upstairs and enjoyed my perfect balcony view of the festivities for a while before venturing down again for Girl Talk, which was the best dancing I've done in a while.  There was no room to dance, but we MADE room to dance.  And then, with the end of the samplings, Spring Fling ended.  

What a day.  

Week in Review

The last week has been a whirlwind of activity; I have seen plays, been to parties, and survived the middle of a chicken fight at a concert.  

There were the high cultured bits of my week:  Dog Sees God and Cabaret.  Both were good in their own right; Cabaret was not a showstopper, but the MC was outstanding.  It made me miss seeing musicals, and the pizazz and suspension of reality that occurs in musical theatre.  As a non-participant, there is something magical about song and dance and stories, intertwining as one.  

There were the parties:  Electro, a massive outdoor rave, has made it onto the top five favorite dance parties of my year.  At first it was awkward, with more people fiddling with glowsticks than actually dancing, though this might have been more due to the DJ's inconsistency than anything else.  Dances at Yale tend to fall into a few different types:  there are drinking parties, sketch parties (Freshman screw was a gropefest), and then all-out dance parties; Electro was the latter.  I hope it becomes a yearly tradition, because it was just as good as other standbys like the Safety Dance.  

In addition, it is beautiful out.  

Haiku

Hipster in front, now:

Why do your glasses lack glass?

Fashion it is not.

CB and Friends

I just saw Dog Sees God, and it was good.  A tale of Charlie Brown, years later, in the turbulent war that is High School, CB's dog just got rabies, and all hell breaks loose.  

To say it was good is an understatement; it was funny, sad, dramatic, and it made me think.  If my hands were taken away, if my livelihood, my writing, were gone forever, what would I do?  In the play, a character takes his life.  I wonder what I would do, if the creativity, the urge to write, no longer had an outlet.  I could dictate, but there is something electric about the connection of pen and paper that I would miss terribly.  

It was hysterical too.  Great one liners, the awkward laughter resulting from situations we are all too familiar with.  And the best line of the night:  "You're a homo, Charlie Brown!"

Hey Bulldog

Today was the last day of Bulldog Days, the three days in which Yale propaganda is cranked out so well that it puts the former Soviet Union to shame. Flyers, speeches by famous professors, performances and pageantry all fill the two days to the brim, giving the prefrosh a sleep-deprivation-induced euphoria that, as the theory goes, will help them decide to come here.  

Now, I'm not knocking Bulldog Days.  I think it's good that students are allowed a few days on campus, to get a feel for the people and what it's like to Be a Student at Yale.  As a prefrosh, Bulldog days was an excellent way to make friends I have to this day.  And it also allowed me to see all the things I could do if I had all the time in the world.  As a student, however, I see some of its inherent issues; I belong to multiple organizations, and all of them held an event in the last 48 hours.  I also have a paper due, in addition to various other bits of work.  Also, I have prefrosh to host.  So when some come back and mess up my suite, don't take any of my suggestions as far as going to things, and keep me up at night, I take umbrage.  

But the thing that scares me is that I was a prefrosh a year ago.  365 days ago.  A song from Rent ago.  And here I am, changed, no longer the bright eyed high schooler, and now grown into myself.  From a seed to a seedling.  This year has flown faster than any other, and yet more has happened to me in these months than any other.    I have become accustomed to relying on myself to get things done, to living in a city, to being a student, to college life, and I can't think of living otherwise now.  

My, how time flies.

A query:

Why is it that Urban Outfitters sells the same things that salvation army does, but at 10 times the price and half the quality?

Why do people get drunk on sundays?

Why was I inside all day today?

Why, why, why do they make papers due the same week of Bulldog Days?

Haiku

Sun finally shines

People emerge from their rooms

Bikinis? Too much.

Drama Drama Drama

Housing draw is a remarkable creature; it should be the least dramatic thing, and yet it never fails to create stress and unpleasantness.  It seems my room next year will be facing both a cemetery and a Power Plant, and I'm ok with this.  Why?  Because I'll be living with fabulous people, and I also enjoy living near interesting things.  

Is there a way to make it any easier?  I doubt it.  People are people, and generally when there's enough of us drama happens.  

In any case, I can't wait until next year.  

Haiku

Branches on the trees

Blow in the very strong wind

Frisbee flies away.

It is a beautiful day out.  That is all.

Shopping Carts and Axes

Yesterday, the assorted members of the Best College became more unified and close than I could ever have imagined.  We began the day groggy, half asleep, but excited.  By the end of the day, we were screaming out from ravaged throats and leading a procession all the way to our dining hall, flag waving and bagpipes screaming out to the streets.  We become the college itself, proclaiming that we always win, even when we don't.  

The events weren't really the highlight.  It was the warpaint, the battle cries, the axes, the flag waving, the comrades in arms decked out in black and red and loving it.  It was the lack of apathy and the excitement of proving how awesome we really were.  It was taking over Nathan Hale and making him hold our flag.  Of course, watching our fellow freshmen dominate in certain events was also quite gratifying (exhibit A:  the danceoff), but mostly it was the collective realization that we were in this together, and that was what mattered.

Today, as I hid in my cave and typed furiously for hours, I realized how truly lucky I was to be in the company of such awesome people.  

Only here will you see people screaming bloody murder over a walkoff.  Just saying.