Blog of a Mad Caucasian Girl

So today I figured out that two weeks of Stats class, irregular amounts of sleep, homesickness, and the impending stress of hosting a friend's bridal shower combine forces to make me cry during Prince Caspian. Multiple times. For the emotionally wrenching post-battle scenes and the warm fuzzy moments.
Funny, though, I made it through Steel Magnolias with only mildly misty eyes.

Also, I now know I loathe the kinds of people who allow themselves to be seen as "needy" and unable to take care of themselves. Be ye not confused with people who rely on others for support when support is needed, or people who seek out something they need (in a positive sense) from someone close to them. I hate stupid people, too. I really can't stand stupid people. I want to smack them with a two-by-four until it beats some sense into them.
And while we're at it, why do most to-be brides start taking stupid pills the day after they get engaged? I dare you to watch fifteen minutes of Bridezilla and still maintain the belief that I'm exaggerating.

Oh... and apparently I am a "pop culture sponge". Or so I have been told. Should that translate to "well-versed in many, even some obscure, areas of culture" or "a fountain of useless information"?
I prefer the former, but accept the reality of the latter.

Yes... welcome to the rambling thoughts of an insomniac college student. I'm beginning to sound like Holden Caulfield. Without the swearing.

Ramble ramble ramble ramble...

No Need For Vacation...

Hooray for three weeks of May Term. And hooray for Statistics five days a week, 8am-12pm.

Note my enthusiasm. ...well, I'm sure you could, if there was any to note.
That class shall now be known as Sadistics 101. (Yes, I know I'm terrible. If you can't beat 'em, make sardonic jokes about 'em, right?)

Regardless, I hope you and yours are well, dear reader. The next time you hear from me, I will probably have a story for you; a fable about the evils of bridal showers in a small Alabama city...
...or perhaps a fairy tale, if I can manage it. I haven't figured one out yet, but I might try nevertheless.

Kick back with a book and a glass of lemonade for me. I'll be joining you in three weeks.

Yes, We Have No Prime Directive

You know it's gotta be the weeks before Finals if I start updating more and more frequently...

I've been scouring the news again for more updates on the aftermath of the raid on the polygamist sect and their Yearning for Zion Ranch. (Yes, this is what I do when I'm procrastinating from a research paper.) The latest buzz is all about the kids: they're finally going to be separated from the mothers, who have been in custody all this time, and taken to foster homes or who knows where else.

So... all the people these children love and trust are being arrested; their beliefs are being questioned; everyone else is trying to tell them what's best for them in the real world, but these kids have probably never seen a mile outside of Zion Ranch. They don't know what the real world is. And everyone they trusted to tell them what the real world was has suddenly become untrustworthy in the eyes of everyone else.
All I can tell you is, in my unprofessional blogger's opinion with two years of a psychology major's education, this will not end well. The younger ones will be alright, perhaps, since they will probably not remember enough of the sect or their real parents. The adolescents who want out of the sect will most likely be fine, though it will be rough to adjust to a different life. It always is.
It's the kids who are too old to forget and still prepubescent for whom my heart breaks. Their stories will probably not end up in the papers as the next Oliver Twists or David Copperfields. In the psychological development timeline, this is the worst age to experience a trauma of this magnitude; the child can't just forget the majority of the life before, and hasn't the full range of coping skills developed in adolescence to help them deal.

I'm not saying the state is or isn't doing the right thing; I think they're taking measures to sort out the innocents from those who have broken Texas state laws. Nevertheless, there's a brilliant quote from Stargate Atlantis that comes to mind: "Listen, kiddies, everything you believe is wrong, and trust us because we've been here for almost an hour!"

The only truly bothersome thing to me is that I can't think of a better alternative.

Fear and Loathing in the New World Order

It's dangerous to for me to read the news. I read too many headlines, spend too much time looking out from my electronic window down on the world, and I get bogged down in the reality of man's sinful nature, and to be honest, it really ruins my day.

This may or may not surprise you, but religious cults are a fascinating subject to me (though it may surprise you to know that this bit of information is pertinent to my previous thoughts). When I read about a cult getting publicity in the news, it attracts my attention. I guess it's a twisted sort of fascination; it's probably the same sort of thing that inspires people to crane their necks to see roadkill, find interest in the prosecution of a murder case or sexual crime, or become fans of CSI. So when I started reading about all this business with the polygamist Mormon sect in Texas, I retraced the media's steps as far back as May '07. This sect has been getting massive amounts of bad publicity for almost a year... the head guy, Warren Jeffs, is on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted for loads of child abuse charges -physical, emotional, and sexual abuse- and for marrying off young girls to older men as they reach puberty; and even though he's been arrested and his cult forceably "disbanded" (yeah, right), Jeffs seems to be controlling his congregation from his jail cell by allegedly sending and receiving messages by way of his elders. They fear him at the same time they worship the ground he walks on.

Now, as I'm reading all this for the first time, I start to see connections with other famous cults-gone-wild, particularly Jonestown. Seeing as how I'm too young to remember the events, it probably makes sense that I only recently learned the gruesome details of Jim Jones' Peoples Temple and the Jonestown massacre of '78. If you too are unfamiliar, do some research and be as appalled as I was: the end of it all happened when over 900 people committed suicide, whether voluntarily or by force, under the instruction of "Father" Jones and the influence of his "teachings." Now I know people can be very trusting, but I really wish people would use their heads once in a while. He manipulated them initially with sleep deprivation and an overload of work; some of his people would stay awake for weeks at a time. For the record, 60 hours of sleep deprivation will start to mess with your head, and 72 hours makes you eligible for the Special White Jacket Award. Jones was also known, retrospectively, for using guilt manipulation, sex, and drugs to keep his followers hooked.

There's nothing new under the sun, it seems. Using people to feed your own god-complex, making them do your bidding through fear, guilt, and manipulation... and they give back nothing but unashamed, unrestrained loyalty. If that isn't terrifying to you, I'm very sorry, but you are jaded and you need help.

And to further your reading pleasure, the latest news from Tinsel Town is that Scientology has been turning out dissatisfied customers. A TV actor Jason Beghe (no, I don't know who he is, either) has, in recent news, publicly renounced his social religion. I don't exactly understand all the jargon he uses, though the ever-faithful and semi-reliable Wikipedia entry tried to help out, but what I do understand came through loud and clear: for this guy, the novel sci-fi religion-of-the-month didn't make the cut.
(Blogger's note: in the article, there is a link to the YouTube video that the FOXnews article references multiple times. Is a three-minute teaser for an upcoming interview with the actor. If you would like to watch it, go ahead, but be warned of an abundance of language most foul.)

This all somewhat amuses me. Could there perhaps be an ounce of sensibility left in the minds of man?

It Might've Worked for Thoreau, But...

I'm not completely sure everyone would survive very well living on squirrels and rabbits in a complicated box in the woods for two years.

Why do we try to make society better? I suppose that's a bit of an odd question... but really, when politicians make their promises of how they're going to change the world, do you believe them or roll your eyes?

Personally, I've perfected the eye-roll technique.

Perhaps I'm too familiar with the ideas behind 1984, Farenheit 451, Brave New World, "Equilibrium", and Shyamalan's "The Village", but the idea of some sort of utopian society doesn't really sit well with me.

So when I read about this little place recently, you can imagine how many mental images I got of The Village.

I admit that I am, in fact, tainted by Reformed theology, but I still don't see how a man-made utopia can exist successfully while humans and even the world itself remains in a pervasively depraved state.

I now open the floor for discussion.

To Emotion, Devotion, and Causing a Commotion...

Freud has finally succeeded in making me laugh in a very good way.
In the middle of my homework, I discovered this little gem within my history of psychology textbook.

And I quote:

"In a paper presented to Veinnese Society of Psychiatry and Neurology in 1896, Freud reported that, using material uncovered in his free-association technique, his patients revealed childhood seductions, with the seducer usually an older relative, often the father.
. . .
The group received Freud's paper with skepticism. Krafft-Ebing, the society's president, said it sounded like a "scientific fairy tale".
Freud said his critics were asses and could go to hell."

No need to sugarcoat it, I guess.
The principle of finding swear words in my textbook is very amusing to me.

Thank you, Freud, for making us laugh at psychology... again... and again... and again.

Springtime, Inside and Out

My latest endeavor is not exactly as, shall we say... creative as usual.

Take a look at these. I found them outside my door Sunday morning, as a gift from my hall prayer partner.





(Of course, to make the process a tad creative, the photographer must take a semi-artsy photo of them... ^^)


Odd, aren't they? They're little planters. Each one has soil and flower seeds inside; the green is marigold, the yellow is snapdragon.


Please, withhold your "eggplant" puns.


Supposedly, the seeds will germinate sometime around Sunday. However, the only reason this is an "endeavor" is because I have never prided myself to possess a green thumb. I don't even have a green toe (unless I fail to nimbly navigate a room full of furniture in the dark; then it's a black-and-blue toe). So we shall see if these little buggers make it past their first few stages of development.


In the meantime... I hope the happy spring weather has reached you as it has me. We have returned to the days of leaving our windows wide open without freezing to death... and I am very pleased at the abundance of merry sunshine up on the mountain.


Now that the seasons are changing, all that's standing between me and the end of the semester is two-and-a-half weeks of classes, and another two weeks 'til the end of finals.

Random Sighting #42

Best bumper sticker ever.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime

Yes, my dear readers, here is the official Christmas Day blog post.
I thought about writing out a Covenant "Twelve Days of Christmas" (Twelve Days of Finals?) that's long overdue, but that will just have to wait. My creativity is taking the holiday off, it seems.

So... Alabama didn't grant us a white Christmas this year. That's alright; the last time I remember snow on Christmas day, I was probably seven or eight. Perhaps one day I will live in a state where it snows during the winter. ^^

Well, let's see.
The presents are open...
The food has been prepared...
The food has been eaten...
That leaves dishes, kitchen clean-up, and the car ride home this evening.
Yesh... It's been a good day.

A very Merry Christmas to you and yours, my lovelies; may it be merry and bright, and full of wonderful celebration of the coming of our Savior.

Just What I Needed

...and now I hope that song is stuck in your head, too. It's still in mine.

Anyway.

As we wrap up Finals week here on the mountain, the thought of being on Christmas break is a pretty happy thought indeed. If I may wax metaphorical, I imagine the break will be like the moment just after an amateur swimmer surfaces after being underwater for a little too long: his lungs are aching for air; his limbs are burning from the strain; his mind is reeling from the panic of being seconds away from drowning... but as he breaks the surface, he is finally able to breathe once again.*

Unfortunately, this week has been the moment right before all that.

So when my hallmate found this video yesterday, it made this marathon week of enduring pain and suffering just a little less... well... less painful.

I now share the video with you now, dear reader, in the chance that you too might need a session of theraputic laughter.
Remember: it's only insulting and mean if you perceive it that way. :)
__________________________
*No swimmers were harmed in the making of this blog entry.

Revolutionary

One of the classes I've been taking this semester is "Cultural Heritage of the West", or CHOW for short. We read the works of all the greatest (and sometimes the not-so-great) Western minds and in turn write about them, all in an attempt by the administration to bring "culture" to the Covenant student population.
We started the semester reading Greek and Roman writers like Homer, Plato, Aristotle, Virgil, and Marcus Aeurelius. Our textbook also included passages from the Bible, and when we got to Matthew and the Sermon on the Mount, here's what I wrote for one of my journal entries. I'm not trying to be too theologically deep about this; but if perhaps this is not a restatement of the obvious for you, as it was not for me, there could be a chance you enjoy it.
As a point of interest, I wrote all my journal entries in pencil (and I always write in pencil anyway) until I got this particular entry back, graded, with a note at the top from my professor: "What do you have against pens?"
---------------

While I find it nice to be back in familiar literary territory, I'm reeling from the abrupt change in worldviews. At least the Greeks and Romans differed over little nit-picky details; this is different in a huge way, like going from walking through sand to walking on a juiced-up moving sidewalk. Reading Matthew in light of studying Homer and Plato and Virgil is a shock -- Who is this Jesus guy, anyway? What's he trying to tell us? We've never heard anything like this! One God? Blessed are the meek? Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you? What kind of teachings are these?

But that's the message -and the impact- of the Gospel, isn't it? No to say the intention of the Sermon on the Mount is to just bring shock and awe... rather, it just naturally shocks and awes anyone who comes in contact with it, and with anyone whose life is the portrayal of the teachings of Jesus. And in the time of Christ, his words were not only freakishly new and different to the Greeks and Romans, but also the Jews and those who followed the Law of Moses. When Jesus takes all the "don't"s and pulls out a list of "do"s (or more precisely, "Blessed are those"s, I guess) and adds a new perspective of "inward" religion to a legalistic society, it absolutely blows the mind. "Eye for an eye" becomes "turn the other cheek"; "Love your neighbors and hate your enemies" becomes "love your enemies and pray for them"; "Do not commit fill-in-the-blank" becomes "do not commit fill-in-the-blank in your heart", much to everyone's (and I mean everyone's) surprise. His way of thinking was nothing short of revolutionary.

To take a quote from Back to the Future: "That's heavy, Doc." Very heavy indeed.

I guess I believe in a revolution, then. People could look at this Jesus Revolution (I randomly coin a term that reeks of oversimplification, but I'll save that argument for Doctrine class) and say, yes, this is the most peaceful, nonviolent kind of revolution. But it's only peaceful to those who choose to remain unaffected by it. To be truly immersed in this internal revolution is to see your own selfish thoughts and desires, your own sinful heart and mind be torn apart in the most painful and wonderful way possible. It's an internal one-eighty that I'm fairly certain the rest o the world could never understand.

Nonviolent? Possibly. But peaceful? Hardly. Not "peace" as the world sees it, anyway; it's internal turmoil that most could honestly do without, if given the choice. But from this struggle with sin comes a peace that surpasses human understanding.

So here's to the revolution: the revolution of the Gospel.

That's still heavy, Doc. But no one ever said a revolution was easy.

Remember You; Remember Me

I suppose I write this because the memories of yesterday can be, if nothing else, bittersweet. And sometimes I like it that way.
----------------------------

Efad leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes tiredly. The paper-in-progress that was open on her computer screen just sat there, waiting for her to finish a sentence that, she decided, was going nowhere. With a quick frown and a flick of the Backspace button, the sentence disappeared. Good riddance to bad writing.

The record that had been playing now fell silent, and the record player gave a -click- as it turned itself off. Efad listened to the sounds coming in from her open window for a moment, debated putting on another record, and didn't stand up. Instead, she allowed herself to be distracted by glancing around her desk. College hadn't had the effect on her that she had hoped: in spite of her best efforts to learn how to keep a tidy workspace, her desk was quite messy. That wouldn't surprise anyone who had ever seen her room back home; in fact, if anyone from home had seen her desk just then, they would have marvelled that bits of the desktop were still visible.

And there, peeking out from behind the pile of notebooks and papers, was a picture frame.

Efad reached and plucked it from its hiding place. She felt a pang of guilt as she realized, judging by the layer of dust that came with it, she had placed it on her desk upon her return to Covenant this past August and then forget all about it. It was a simple silver frame with a whispy black design of curves and spirals; she had probably received it as a graduation gift two years ago. In it, she had placed a picture of a group of smiling people kneeling, crouching, and standing in a huddle on a beach. At the top in curvy white letters was the inscription "Panama City Beach, 2003". Efad smiled a little at the picture. She knew all the faces that were grinning back at her. They were all, at one time or another, members of her church youth group, including the youth director. She herself was in the picture as well, in the tee-shirt and overshirt she still owned, and a faded blue hat she had retired into her keepsake box back home.

...a moment captured in time...

"What'cha looking at?"

Efad looked up. Her roommate's chair, which had previously been unoccupied, now held a smiling young man. He was still wearing his normal blue "NIKE" tee-shirt, ripped jeans, and sandals, even though the occasional breeze from the open window told Efad it was well below sixy (or even fifty) degrees outside. Had it been anyone but Aaron, she would've thought the boy to be crazy, if not a little bit cold.

She smiled at him. "Hullo, Aaron."

"Hey." He craned his neck to look at the picture frame. "Wow, what a flashback. Where'd you find that?"

"On my desk. I-- oh, stop laughing."

Aaron choked down what otherwise would've finished a loud laugh, but couldn't suppress the rest of the grin. "Sorry. What happened to keeping a cleaner desk this year?"

"I like keeping things where I can find them." She looked at the piles. She had taken no great pains to make sure they were organized by both height and chronology: the tallest piles were clearly the oldest. "I'm afraid they're just not always in retrievable form."

"I see." Aaron hesitated, then shifted to lean his elbows on his knees. Efad didn't notice; she was looking at the photograph in her hand. He cleared his throat, and she jumped a little. "You, um... you okay?"

"Am I... uh, yeah. I guess so." She looked at the picture again.

...a moment captured in time; put the memory in a frame, keep it safe...

Aaron nudged her chair with his foot. "You sure?"

"Yeah." She didn't look up. "...I just can't believe how much as changed since this picture was taken."

"Ah."

Yes. There they were, all grinning and carefree on just another summer retreat... Efad brushed the cold glass with her fingertips; they started at the top row, moved down along all the happy faces to the next row, then the next, then the last, tracing a snakelike line in the dust. "I remember this year. This was the summer before my sophomore year of high school..." Her fingers started at the top again, resting on a dark-haired boy in a white shirt. "Joseph's actually smiling... he came from Baton Rouge to go to RYM with us." She felt so silly, telling Aaron things he undoubtedly already knew. Any of her memories would be his as well. She went on anyway. "He and his family were in Prattville the summer before last. He was trying to quit smoking, and got mad at me when I found cigarettes in his backpack... and when we all went to Wal-Mart, he rode the kiddie carousel for laughs." She was grinning in spite of herself now. "I still wish I'd gotten a picture of that."

There was a pause from the other chair. "Have you heard anything since the last update from his dad?"

Her grin faded. "...he's probably still recovering from the accident. He... he shouldn't've even survived, y'know, the way that eighteen-wheeler hit him. It's a miracle he did at all."

"Yeah, I know." Aaron looked back at the photograph and chuckled. "And there's John and Nate and Marie -- I didn't know all three Layor cousins went in 2003."

Of course, she knew he was lying, but Efad went with it anyway. "They did. Marie's married and has a little boy now... John is off in the army, and Nate's still back home." She paused. "I had better call John soon. His brother's fourteenth birthday would've been tomorrow."

"Yeah." Aaron looked at his feet. "To be honest, I thought you weren't going to make it dry-eyed through the funeral visitation."

Efad let her eyes drift out of focus as she stared at John's grinning face. "I didn't."

...a moment captured in time; put the memory in a frame, keep it safe, let it watch the world change...

"Soren and Rebecca look happy."

"They do." Efad looked at her two best friends. "Rebecca and Soren's cousin are going to the same college now. Rebecca's probably going to get engaged to that boyfriend of hers, too." She sighed. "I don't even know where half of these people are now... see these three girls?" She pointed. "They've disappeared from my radar. Last I heard, this one was going to college, this one was in a foster home, and this one... I think she graduated high school with Nate, but that's the last I've heard of her."

Aaron took the picture frame from her hands and put it on top of the desk. He smiled at her and tousled her hair. "I guess a picture can be worth a thousand words, then." He crouched down beside her and made her look at him. "E, it doesn't do you well to dwell on the past. You know how melancholy you get when you do."

Efad nodded once, solemnly. "I know."

Then Aaron was gone. The room was silent again, and Efad was left with her thoughts, her laptop (which had gone to screensaver), her messy desk, and her picture frame. She took it in her hands again, brushing her fingers over the familiar faces squinting in the Florida sun.

She wondered what it would be like to go back; travel back to a time when nothing really mattered... A time before death and tragedy had invaded the quiet little community she had once known.

What if Joseph hadn't been in that horrible car accident?
What if John's little brother hadn't shot himself?
What if friends hadn't drifted apart?
What if she had stayed?

What then?

"If we're not supposed to dwell on the past," she murmured, "why do we keep it stowed away in picture frames?"

A picture is a moment captured in time; put the memory in a frame, keep it safe, let it watch the world change around its glass sanctuary.

Say You Want an Update

I wish I actually knew how "Say You Want a Revolution" went, so I could start randomly singing it on my blog. Oh well.

Because I'm cheap and short on time, here's what I updated my deviantArt journal with. I hope it suffices until I have more time to reflect on these last few months of voluntary indentured servitude to my education.

"BWAAAAAAAAH!
I shouldn't be on dA right now! I have two tests tomorrow (one of which is my most dreaded foe: The Math Menace), and while I've been studying all week for them, I slept in this morning just because I could and now I've gotten nothing done all morning and still have five chapters of Doctrine left to review, a Credo to write, things to memorize, and math to review!
BWAAAAAAAAH!
(how's that for a transcontinental sentence? *snicker*)

Ahem.
Anyway.

"The only thing we can report at this time is that there is nothing to report."
There's a good M*A*S*H quote for you.
And it's true. I have nothing for you right now; no art, no pictures, no writings, no nothing. I've been swamped since my last journal entry with all things school-related. Seventeen semester hours is definitely doable, but it takes a toll on some other areas of my life... like my art... and pieces of mah sanity...

But the good news is, I've been trying since September to finish the Pratchett/Gaiman book "Good Omens", and yesterday I succeeded before the real Apocalypse happened. That became my goal after two months of staring at its status of "Reading Now" on my Facebook page.
That should tell you how much time I get on a regular basis to sit and read.

The other good news is I'll be on Fall Break as of 2:00pm tomorrow!

Okay. Doctrine and Math are totally not being studied right now. I'll get back to you when I'm sitting at home bored out of my skull... And I'm looking forward to every minute of being bored."

So there. See you in a few days, my lovelies -- until then, it's back to studying for me.

Public Service Announcement

Today's post is a PSA from the video-gamer community.
. . .
I don't know if it'd help to know the characters from this webseries, but I hereby acknowledge that there are a couple of inside jokes mentioned. Sorry. I know it's not nice to use an inside joke when you know someone will be left out of the humor, but I think the rest of the video can stand alone well enough.
Beware of some mild swearing and a couple crude jokes (so put your headphones in to keep the kiddies from overhearing)... but feel free to take in the thinly-veiled satirical humor and smile. I did.
Actually, I laughed. A lot.
Enjoy.
______________________

PS: Andy is a bomb. That's why it's funny for him to be on top of an exploding laptop.

An Addition to the New Book of Proverbs

(note: this goes in the chapter following "Watcheth where thy maketh thy rest in the Psychology Lab, and beware that thou dost not poketh thy nose into business that is not thine, lest ye discover ye sitteth next to the brain of a sheep.")

"My son, taketh thee not a high-maintenance girl into thine heart. She is the viper that shall bite thy tongue and surely she will sicken thy veins with her venom."

Sometimes, when something like that news article crosses my path, I begin to suspect that one of the direct results of the Fall was the irreversable loss of common sense.

---
edit: in retrospect, this post seems incredibly cynical and insensitive to the consequences of this poor drunken idiot's decision of how to impress his ex-girlfriend. But hey, he's okay now; have a guilt-free laugh, folks.
And watch out for snakes.

Perchance to Dream?

Just to help put this post in perspective, your reading material for today is a Wikipedia link about dreams and the process of dreaming. The first paragraph is a good summary, but it would behoove you to look at the rest of the article as well.

So. Backstory: Recently I was required to observe a newborn for a Developmental Psychology class, and most of this observation was spent watching the child sleep (yes, I know; imagine the odds of catching a newborn in the middle of naptime...). She slept for about an hour and a half, during which she would occasionally make anxious/distressed grunts and moans in her sleep; these noises were accompanied by the slight shifting of positions (not much, since she can't even hold up her own head...), some gentle kicking, reaching, and grasping.

Sounds like dreaming, doesn't it?

See, the thing is, it's a standing theory that newborns aren't supposed to be able to have dreams. Admittantly, the theory follows a logical train of thought: if dreams are fabrications of the mind and are made from the combination of memories and one's own imagination, then babies, lacking experience in both of these areas, should not have "dreams".
There is also the physiological aspect to consider. In particular, except for some stages of REM sleep, certain neurotransmitters react with associated specific areas of the brain to trigger the emotion- and motor-related responses we see when we watch someone dream.
But which is the cause and which is the effect? Do the neurotransmitters cause a dream, or does a dream cause the brain to fire off the neurotransmitters?
What was making the child distressed? What made her kick or reach to grasp at nothing?

I do not pose this because I have an answer. I merely thought it would make an interesting discussion; if you have any thoughts on the subject or any responses to my musings, feel free to post. I'll try to push the right buttons to make "anonymous" posting possible in my blog settings (still, sign your name so I know who you are), but if not, feel free to drop me an e-mail.

----
Edit: Anonymous comments have been enabled for a while -- if I start getting spam (which happened a lot last time I left the comments open to Anyone), I'll have to change it back, but it's all good for now.

You Never Know What You'll Find Around Here

I have no earthly idea what class requires such a thing as this, but it was found late at night in the Psychology lab.

Yes, you read that right. "Sheep brain". And while you're at it, check out the name on the label. Mike Rulon is my professor and academic advisor; he's shown us a human brain in class before, so I suppose a sheep brain shouldn't be that shocking...

The story behind this isn't terribly extraordinary. I was sitting in the Psych lab with some friends (and with my camera) last night, and at some point I accidentally bumped a container that sloshed, so naturally I investigated. I put some distance between myself and the brain before I came back and took the picture.

The moral of this story is, don't go poking your nose into business that isn't yours. You might find out you're sitting next to a sheep brain.

What's This?

Two blog entries in two days? Try not to look too surprised, folks. It probably won't happen again.


See, a funny thing happened on the way to chapel today...

...well, alright, it happened while everyone else was in chapel. Everyone except the girls from Caledon, that is.

They came in right in the middle of worship and moved in a semi-solemn procession in front of the stage looking something like this.







Those robes belong to Brethren, a guys' hall in Founders; Caledon is another hall in Founders. Be ye not fooled by the limitations of my picture: there are twenty-something girls on Caledon. It was a long line of monk-robed girls waking in front of everyone in the Chapel. I don't know how the girls got their hands on the robes, but I've got to admit: I am deeply impressed.


The spirit of pranking is back at Covenant, my dear readers. And I must say... I think I like it.
Mwahahaha....

And Now For Something Completely Different...

Your college tuition dollars at work!
Yes, my friends, this is what we do in class here at Covenant College.

(Please ignore the fact that this shot makes my right thumb disappear.)

. . .

Let me explain.

...no, there is too much. Let me sum up.

We did an experiment in Drawing I this afternoon involving contour lines and markers.

Fear not, it is washable.

And yes, even though class got out at four, I kept the stripes 'til after dinner (which is now). ^-^

Booya.

____________

Edit: My summing up was not complete. For those who don't know, in high school I had a history of getting in trouble with my parents for drawing on myself. Thus, I found today's exercise particularly ironic. ("But Mom, Professor Carpender made me do it!")

It's That Time of Year Again

I've been back on campus for a whole twenty-four hours (roughly, anyway). Highlights include moving furniture, an episode of extention cord/power bar confusion (in which we sought to borrow two power bars from a former hallmate, only to find a power bar and an extension cord that my dear roommate had forgotten about), one Wal-Mart run, one Bi-Lo run, two meals in the Great Hall, a visit to New Residence Hall (which is desperately in need of a name), and more hugs than I can count.
I'll probably be homesick for the first week. I already am. How does a nineteen-year-old justify homesickness?

Hopefully I'll be kept busy; being busy will help me to focus on where I am and keep me from thinking about where I'm not.
I have to register, i.e. give the admin. all the information they already have so they know I'm still me.
I have register my car, i.e. make sure I can park on campus even though the parking lots are overcrowded.
Classes start tomorrow.
I never finished the book I resolved to read over the summer.
Sigh...

In the immortal words of Samwise Gamgee: "Well... I'm back."