Day #47: Easter Sunday and New Beginnings

                Easter Sunday! Today marks the end of Lent, and thus the end of my regular blog entries. With just two weeks left in my freshman year, the end is in sight, and things are looking up. Furthermore, I now have 47 positive entries in my repertoire for when things aren’t going so well. However, I am not anticipating this to happen anytime soon, because next semester is looking very hopeful. I have just one lab class, and friends in all of the rest of my classes. The average GPA of potentially my hardest class next semester is still higher than any that I am currently enrolled in. I feel that I am much better prepared for success than I have been previously. I will be living in an apartment, not forced to eat at the dining hall, and done by noon almost every day. That’s another good thing about college: second chances. It’s strange to think what an enormous difference such little changes can create. Ironically, isn’t that the theme of the season? Rebirth and new beginnings.

                I would just like to take this opportunity to focus on the reason for our Lenten sacrifices and the significance of this day, which is, of course, the coming of Jesus Christ. Jesus came so that we could all have a “second chance”, and so that we wouldn’t have to carry on in misery. God gives us this opportunity each and every day, as is evidenced by less significant instances than our eternal well-being, such as a new semester, a new day, or a new chapter. No matter how terrible our burden at the time may seem, we can take comfort in knowing that it will pass eventually, and that a new beginning will await us. No matter the pain, fear, or nerves, there is a time when they will be gone, and we will get there one way or another. The challenge is finding the grace to appreciate the time that elapses in between.

                I have learned that there will always be challenges and obstacles facing me; that is just how life goes. Things are not going to get easier after college, because then the real world will be awaiting me, ready with its own harsh lessons. Some of the best moments of life are not found in accomplishing a goal, but in appreciating what it took to get there. If everything was just a countdown to a new deadline or date, then life would just fly past unnoticed. We have each been blessed with too dear a gift to allow that to happen. I think one of the most poignant things I have learned over the last few weeks can be summed up in a single quote: “Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about learning to dance in the rain.”  

Day #46: We're from the Country

                G.R.I.T.S. Girls raised in the South. For the longest time, I thought my mom’s running visor was an advertisement for the stuff that always accompanied eggs and bacon. Once I learned how to read cursive, I could finally make out the scripty fine-print beneath the letters:  girls raised in the South. “An acronym!” I thought to my little second-grade self. At least it made more sense than telling people to eat grits as she ran by. At that time, the hat was such an establishment that I paid not another thought to it. However, eleven years older and wiser, and witnessing northerners finally exposed to the South for the first time upon entering Tech, it has all become clear.

                The South: a culture, lifestyle, mindset, and anthem. “Where’re ya from?” I am constantly asked, in response to my truck, shotgun shell lights, and constant trail of country music. “Umm the northeastern part of Florida? St. Augustine, just south of Jacksonville,” I am always quick to respond. “Florida? They ain’t got country people down there!” I shrug and add, “Well, we have a farm in south Georgia…” That usually provokes a knowing smile and nod, and the questions are stemmed. But I don’t add the truth about Florida. My high school government teacher once said, “They say the farther south in Florida you go, the more northern it gets. We’re still pretty southern…you get sweet tea when you order ‘tea’ at a restaurant, and there’re still big, muddy trucks around.” Well put, Mr. Latta. Point is, any way you cut it, I am from the South.

                I’ve grown up fishing with my daddy, watching the sun set from the screened porch, running barefoot everywhere, hollering to come down for supper, driving machinery since I could see over the dash, and working hard. I’ve grown up around good, honest folk with strong, weathered hands and stubborn heads full of stories that are quick becoming legends. I’ve grown up in the same church pew, with the same graduating class in kindergarten as in high school, blaring Sweet Home Alabama, Song of the South, and flying down state road 16 as it took me between my two homes: the farm and the beach. I’ve grown up with a family like no other.

                The culture shock of the big city always melts away, never fail, as the I-75 traffic thins, the smog lifts, trees replace buildings, pick-up trucks replace SUVs, and an enormous smile replaces the brow furrows and grimace that unintentionally hide my face these days. I cannot begin to describe the feeling of riding with cruise control on, the roll-up windows down, and belting along to the radio as I sit in the cab of Buck the truck, behind the front tag that reads, “Beef” in bold, red, block letters. In two and a half short hours, I am bumping along down the most gorgeous dirt road I have ever seen, with the hand painted Barracuda Blvd sign growing smaller in my rearview mirror. Even with all of the amazing memories that we have made, the people that we have loved and lost, the heart-stopping and breath-taking moments that we have witnessed at the end of that road, I will never be jaded to that incredible rush that I feel each time I come home.

                Girls raised in the South. That’s me. “I’m a 4-wheeler ridin’, mud slingin’, camo wearin’, kinda’ girl,” and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Even though I can’t claim that I am a minority on scholarship or admittance applications, I am proud to say that I am from the south. I’m from sweet tea, biscuits, and pick-up trucks. I am from southern hospitality and home cooking. I am from mud, sweat, and hard work. And that’s as good a heritage as any.  

Day #45: Roomies

                As my last few days of blogs approach, I have decided to dedicate this one to the person who inspired this Lenten resolution in the first place: my roommate, Emily Davidson. When I went home for Christmas break, the common theme seemed to be crazy roommates: from the potentially illegal immigrant to the weird girl who trashed the room every weekend to the high school friends that finally spent too much time together, I had heard just about every scenario. I was consequently shocked to find that my situation was an exception rather than the norm.

                From that first Facebook message to ranting about d-orbitals all last night, I cannot think of a single complaint about Emily. She has tolerated shotgun shells, African tribal masks, my coming back at all hours of the night/sleeping through the blaring fire alarms, and a freezer full of deer, not to mention the terrifying state of the room after test weeks. I know I don’t fully appreciate how lucky I was this year, but I do know that randomish roommates as good as mine are few and far between.

                Even after all the trials and tribulations that this Institution holds, Emily Davidson somehow manages to stay positive, and come back each day with a bright smile and a bounce in her step. Juxtaposed to my own melancholy demeanor, this makes for a stark contrast. I am sure hearing negative, one word grunts in response to, “How was your day?” gets old very quickly, but the question is waiting nevertheless each day when I heave myself back through our door. After sitting through stoic, bitter professors, it’s always a welcome reprieve to know that someone on campus still cares about my well-being.

                College tends to be a time when beliefs are tested, and people change, sometimes for the worse. I feel that, personally, I have grown stronger in my faith, thanks to Emily. I have never met anyone who better personifies what it means to be Catholic. She is always so excited and proud to be Catholic, and it is almost contagious. I am so thankful to be a part of such a beautiful tradition, and I am equally thankful to Emily for helping me realize it.

                So to my amazing roommate, I would just like to say thank you. Thanks for all of the adventures, including, but not limited to, our road trip to Swainsboro, hunting, trekking across campus in the ice, Christmas door-wrapping, and Friday morning bagels. Thanks for somehow learning the secret to waking me up, and for not leaving me asleep during class or fire drills. Thanks for all of the hilarious stories, made even more so after a week of no sleep. Most importantly, thanks for always being there for me. I don’t know how else I would have made it through the year.

Day #44: Packing

                Last regular test today! After slaving away on Inventor, modeling some absurdly shaped little block thing for three hours, I am finally done with Hell Week activities! I also started packing up the room to bring stuff home: it was just the motivation I needed to get through these next few weeks. There’s nothing quite so liberating as tearing apart the place to the point of tornado status, and then consolidating your life into a few cardboard boxes. I thought back to the last time I did all this, back in August, around 2 a.m. on the night before I had to leave.

It’s strange to think of what a different setting it was, and all the things I took for granted. Salty air, the beach, home cooked meals that didn’t make my stomach hate me, the lack of dorm smell, not having to pole vault into bed, genuine laughter, and of course, my wonderful family. I remember dreading the morning, and the six hour minivan ride, as I had never dreaded anything before. I wanted nothing more than to put on my uniform, hop in the truck, and drive down the street towards school, while Jackie chased me, socks, shoes, and make-up in hand. But alas, there I was, sitting on my bedroom floor with eighteen years of memories surrounding me, and four boxes to cram it all into. A horrible day ensued, with a car ride from which I couldn’t shake the feeling of being condemned, sad goodbyes, and that lonely moment of standing in the dorm, alone for the first time.  

Needless to say, it is in magnitudinally better spirits that I repeat the process this time around. As I tear down posters and upturn drawers, I continue to stumble upon reminders of the diverse things I have had the opportunity to take part in since that last night: a GT Off-Road flyer, my marathon medal, a hammock from Nicaragua, an endless amount of Alpha Phi things, Christmas wrapping paper, and chemistry notes galore. A year ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing half of the things I actually did. The opportunities that college presents people with truly are endless. Even though I can remember my last night at home like it was yesterday, I can see now that every new beginning truly does come from some other beginning’s end. As this long and strenuous freshman year draws to a close, I, for the first time in a while, am hopeful for what fall will bring. While my limits have been tested, and we have been battered and beat down to the point of praying for a C on a test, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. In just two short weeks, there will be a beach volleyball court, a beautiful sunset, and a gorgeous black and white striped lighthouse within view.

Days #39-43: Hell Week

                Among us Tech students, this wonderful week before “Dead Week” (the week before exams), is fondly known as Hell Week, adequately named for the hellacious amount of tests, projects, and assignments that are due since professors are not allowed to torment us during Dead Week. Hence my temporary absence from the rest of the world. And since Hell Week continues until Friday, I have once again consolidated five days of blogs into this one so that I can catch up. Because I can only think in bullet points thanks to my mental exhaustion, here is a list of my positive things from the last five days:

1) Saturday: I went to Greensboro, Georgia. It was just like being back home, and a much appreciated break from the city. I rode four-wheelers, cruised around in a jacked-up truck, and ate fried deer to my heart’s content.

2) Sunday: I got an adequate amount of sleep! And studied physics all day. (The sleep is the positive.)

3) Monday: Hmm… Moe’s Monday? And more studying.

4) Tuesday: LAST CHEMISTRY LAB! Chemistry labs are a very scarring experience, so I am actually indescribably elated about this occurrence.

5) Wednesday: I found an excuse to wear my cowboy boots, which always makes things better. Hell week continues.

I offer my most sincere apologies for this uneventful entry after five days of building suspense. However, I am so incredibly excited to go to the farm this weekend, so be prepared for several extremely positive blogs in the near future, pending on my survival of Hell week.

Day #38: Bagels

                I’ve come to find that Fridays are very structured food days. Every Friday, pretty much since I was born, my family goes to sushi. Usually, this ritual is followed by Dairy Queen. My latest dining institution is Friday morning post-chemistry breakfast at Einstein’s Bagels. Since the beginning of the semester, my roommate and I have been battling through the weeks in anticipation of the coveted Friday morning bagel and blackberry lemonade. It’s always nice to get a chance to stop the chemistry and discuss more important matters, such as weekend plans, crazy family stories, and just how exactly that new building did pop up overnight. This particular bagel was especially delicious knowing that there are just two more left this semester. I might actually miss Friday mornings next year.

Day #37: Projects

                My dear old dad is a fan of crazy projects that usually don’t get finished completely. To date, we have grown tilapia in our garage, hatched a few flocks of various bird species, built a never-ending tree house, chopped down all of the trees in the atrium, searched for Bigfoot, and milked a sheep, among other things. The Projects definitely keep life interesting. Anyways, today’s positive thing is my to-do list for the next round of them:

                1) Design a chicken coop in AutoCAD that small children can paint,

                2) Determine how to meet the family in Spain over the summer,

                3) Something about alternative energy and taking over the world, and

                4) Convert the truck to an alternative fuel source so I can receive a government grant.

That ought to keep me busy for a while. Congratulations, Daddio, you’re the positive thing of the day! I’ll get to work right away.

Day #36: Surprise!

                I received the shock of the semester today: I actually knew almost all of the information on both of my tests. It was an amazing feeling that I haven’t experienced since the good old days of high school. There is now officially one test, six labs, two lab quizzes, and three exams standing between me and summer. Crunch time! To top it off, I managed to pull off a surprise birthday dinner for a very good friend of mine. For those of you who know me well, you might be aware of what a terrible liar I am, so this in itself was quite a feat. All in all, this day I have been dreading all semester turned out to be a great one.

Day #35: Spring

                Back in the fall, there was a day when I looked up and realized that all of the trees, grass, and flowers had died. It was a very depressing sight: the novelty of leaves actually changing and not just blowing off in a hurricane had given way to the reality that they were doing so because they were dying, and would soon fall, leaving sad, sickly, bald trees. It dampened my day immensely as I trudged through the chilly air to chemistry.

                After having witnessed how depressing a real winter can get after a while, I can appreciate, in retrospect, just what a momentous occasion that day marked. Today, however, was on the opposite end of the spectrum. After having been frantically studying for three days for my “Hell Day” tomorrow, consisting of calculus 2 and chemistry tests, any break was much welcome, even if it was just to go to class. But coming back from another confounding calculus 2 lecture, as I dragged myself back to my dorm, I stopped for a moment and looked up.

                The trees were covered in bright, fresh green leaves while new grass sprouted up beneath them. The bushes around the quad outside of the Howey physics building were laden with pink flowers, just like the ones at home that Dad got in trouble for “trimming” with a chainsaw. Landscaping has never been so effective: campus actually looked pleasant for once. It was encouraging to be reminded that the miserable winter actually ends at some point, and things go back to normal…a good tidbit to keep in mind as I tackle my second to last round of tests!

Day #34: Studying

                I have two tests on Wednesday, so please excuse the utter lack of creativity and artistic ability over these next few days. Positive things for Monday: 1) It’s not raining for once, 2) The dining hall had fish, and 3) I got 6 whole hours of sleep last night. Back to studying!

Day #33: the Flying Biscuit

                This morning, we went on an adventure to go get breakfast off-campus. We ended up at a place called the Flying Biscuit. It reminded me of something you’d find in St. Augustine, with its huge, open windows, mismatched décor, and colorful inhabitants. I got raspberry French toast, which was the most delicious thing I have had in a while, and which I plan on recruiting my sister, Jackie, to figure out how to make as soon as possible. It was a nice morning to see the city, and one of those days that leaves you thinking, “Hey, Atlanta’s not so bad.” I hope that the future brings many more Flying Biscuits.  

Day #32: Oozeball

                It seems like everyone likes to cram stuff in during the last month of school. This weekend, for instance, was the weekend of Tech Beautification Day, Lambda Chi’s Watermelon Bust, Delta Chi’s Reggae Weekend, and Skull House’s Oozeball tournament. I’ll give you three chances to guess which one I did…yes, the one involving the most dirt.

                “Oozeball” is like doubles volleyball, but played on a smaller court in a pit that is full of mud. I’ve been living large, with two weekends of playing in mud now. My team, “Scared Hitless”, made it to the semifinals in our bracket. Although we were more successful than our tug team, I was still slightly disappointed that we finished one game away from the third place game, the winner of which received a Wal-Mart gift card. I had barbecue for lunch at the tournament, which was quite enough of a condolence prize. All in all, it was a good afternoon. I’ll be looking forward to more creative fraternity philanthropies!

Day #31: Last Spain Meeting

                I recently returned from the final Spain meeting for my study abroad group. Ironically, it was also my first Spain meeting as well. We had a wonderful home cooked meal that consisted of several different Spanish things, of which I know not their identities. A year ago, I probably would have said my sisters’ and my infamous quote that my dearest Uncle Denny loved oh so much: “Ewww!” However, times have changed, and I have learned that sometimes you just have to close your eyes and eat the thing if you want to get fed. I was pleasantly surprised today though, because unlike Woody’s food, this was actually delicious. Anyways, the meeting was nice and short, and apart from confirming my impression that the professor we will be studying under is crazy, was rather uneventful. With this final meeting, the fact that I will be living in Spain for ten weeks this summer is finally becoming a reality. I am so excited to have the incredible opportunity to experience the colorful culture and beautiful language of this country. I can’t wait for summer! İBuenas noches!

Day #30: Greek Sing

                Today was the final day of Greek Week, and therefore the day of Greek Sing. Greek Sing is essentially a big song/dance contest between all of the fraternities and sororities, but, like every other part of Greek Week, people get REALLY into it. Most people create kind of musical skits, such as “Frat-Street Boys”, and “a discourse between Greeks and non-Greeks” (…only at Tech). I haven’t laughed that hard in quite some time. It was quite impressive to see how talented everyone really is, besides being nerdy engineers. To top it off, my sorority, Alpha Phi, placed second, which is not too shabby. Overall, it was a very enjoyable evening…and a nice break from row reductions and trying to decipher how hydrogen reacts with every other element.

Day #29: The [Town] that Built Me

                I have written the religion/theology book definition of community probably hundreds of times over the course of my thirteen years of Catholic education. “Community (underline, hyphen): a group of people living and working together.” It’s funny though; I never fully understood what that word meant until I left it behind. I can’t help but relate it to one of Mr. Arnold’s Dual Enrollment English all-purpose themes: definition by opposition. One does not appreciate light without darkness, sunshine without rain, and apparently community without the lack thereof.

Recently, I received news that a Pedro alumnus and UF student from back home was killed in a car wreck. Though I did not know him personally, a few of my friends did, and it was touching to see what people had written on his memorial page. But what struck me the most was seeing how quickly everyone came together in the face of such a tragedy. It is terrible that it takes the loss of such an amazing, promising, young life to bring a community back together and unite old friends, but then again I guess that is part of the silver lining that God never fails to bless us with. As a friend of mine so eloquently put it, “I have always thought it was a shame that death united communities so quickly. It makes me wonder that, if we celebrated life and never took it for granted, how much could we, as a community, accomplish and improve our way of living?”

I cannot begin to express how blessed I am to call such an incredible place home. I am so grateful to have known such a strong community, and one that is so intertwined. From playing sports together at the YMCA in first grade to cheering for whoever made it to states that year to watching the papers like a hawk each May to see where everyone was going, we’ve always been a competitive bunch. But after all of those years of spelling bees, science fairs, club volleyball, and Bo Clark basketball camp, there are very few people in town who you don’t recognize by sight, or at least know from one of your friends. It has been an amazing experience to grow up with such a versatile group of people, from the kid who raps at St. Augustine High School, and is signing a record deal, to the Burchfields and their sports dynasty. Now that we’ve gone our separate ways, and all is said and done, the ceaseless competition has been replaced by a fierce camaraderie. I’m sure I speak for us all when I say that, no matter where I go, I will always be a St. Augustine kid at heart.  

Day #28: Yea, this is Country Music

                I’ve been described as “country” on more than one occasion. Everyone can tell I’m coming when my red truck pulls into the beach volleyball courts blasting country music, which is my absolute favorite. Unfortunately, since I moved away from home, I have had to cut myself off from it after exceeding the 40 hour a month Pandora limit. This in itself was not grounds for instilling a music quota: I discovered the underlying problem when I noticed how terribly homesick country makes me. So in an effort to wrench my heart away from St. Augustine and Swainsboro and all of the amazing people back home, I have been trying to listen to other music. Reggae was a fairly successful substitute last semester. However, after seeing lyrics from some new country song today, I broke down and busted out the country station…and just remembered why I love it so much!

                Everyone complains that country is too “twangy”, and that it’s just a bunch of old guys whining about their dog, momma, or broken truck/heart. But there is so much more to it than that. I feel that I’ve pretty much lived about 80% of all country songs at one time or another, between driving the barbed wire truck around a field when I was seven and drinking sweet tea on the farmhouse porch. It never ceases to amaze me that people continue to capture the essence of my family and home in song, as well as just about every important life lesson. I love having something that can keep me grounded and get me through any day at the same time. Thanks to country music, I am continuously reminded of who I am and where I’m from. I am reminded that there will always be people who love and care about me waiting back home. I am reminded of the happiness that is found is things as simple as fried chicken and blue jeans. And I am reminded that, no matter what life throws at me, I will never lose any of that.

Step back, smell the rose

Feel the sand between your toes

Unplug, unwind

Step out in the sunshine

I need to live a little, have some fun

Take some time and waste it on number one

Find someone that brings my whole world to a stop

Live a little, love a lot

-Kenny Chesney

And my personal favorite music video of all time:

http://www.cmt.com/videos/thompson-square/557313/are-you-gonna-kiss-me-or-not.jhtml

Day #27: Registration Success

                Last semester, my GT 1000 class devoted an entire day in preparing us for that nightmare of nightmares: registration. Our peer leaders (PLs) likened it to a battlefield, and passed on their knowledge of how to cover all your fronts. Yes, we left that day well equipped to handle everything from restricted sections to escaping the dreaded 8 a.m.’s. Since coming here, one of the hardest adjustments for me, personally, was getting used to the fact that school never seemed to end. There were labs that went on until 10 p.m., classes that start at 8 a.m., and random, useless, hour-long gaps all between them. It is my perpetual quest to get all of my classes together into single blocks, and I have gradually been perfecting that art. This semester was much more acceptable than last, but there were still labs until 6, a 2 hour lunch break, and some rough professors. I sat down recently to work on my schedule for fall, set on getting done as early as possible each day. As I looked up professors’ average GPAs and class times, I was shocked to find that everything seemed to fall into place. In no time, I had created the perfect schedule: done each day by noon, with one day of lab until 3. I didn’t get too excited, though, because as a freshman, you are pretty much guaranteed to not get any of the right classes. I received another pleasant surprise when I discovered I had one of the earliest time tickets, thanks to the fact that I am studying abroad this summer. So when my registration opened up today, I held my breath and plugged in the course numbers. I was swept with relief as the page refreshed without any ugly red comments. My perfect schedule is now a reality, and I have come out victorious in another registration war. What a successful day!

Day #26: Tug Life

Think back to the days of your own childhood. A much simpler time, filled with kickball, capture the flag, and tug of war. Tug of War: that most epic battle of strength and strategy that dates back to our elementary school days. Few things can deliver the same satisfaction as pouring your heart and soul into hanging on a rope, in a quest for the glory that the winner would inevitably receive. And few things can be quite as devastating as the moment when you felt your feet start to slip and waited with dread to be heaved under the milling feet of your teammates. Yes, many a field day has been decided by this age old struggle of weight vs. will, and many a casualty has been sustained in the protection of bragging rights for the year. But eventually, we grow up. We take physics and become jaded by the formulas for the force of tension in a string, and the energy conservation principle. Gone are the carefree days of the dirt parking lot and that impossibly thick rope. I found out today, however, that even after all these years, there are still some people who just can’t “let go”.

Thursday marked the start of Tech’s annual Greek Week: a series of competitions and contests among all members of the Greek community. One of the most anticipated events of this week is Tug. Tug takes that childhood memory of dust and rope burns to a whole new level. Essentially, a huge pit, about three feet deep, is dug. It is then filled with about a foot and a half of water, and of course, a rope. Each sorority and fraternity forms a team of fourteen, and competes against each other until a winner of each bracket is decided. Most people have been training for this week since early November or so.

Naturally, with the arrival of the big day, I sprang out of bed half an hour late to nine missed calls, got dressed in record time, and launched myself from the dorm. Five minutes later, I was at the registration table, amidst my much relieved teammates. We weren’t scheduled to go until 17^th, so we got to wait around for half of the day and watch everyone else. It was quite a sight. Mud flung from every direction as individuals tied towels on the rope to lean on. Coaches bellowed audibles at the top of their lungs.  People strutted around, wrapped in colorful duct tape to prevent rope burns. Yes, this was something else.

Finally, at long last, it was time. We lined up and marched into the pit, looking as intimidating as possible. As I crouched in the mud, sitting on someone’s cleats with my knees jammed in someone else’s back, adrenaline pumped through me; adrenaline that I had not felt since the glory days of high school sports. I was painfully aware of how much I missed it. The whistle cut through the air, and we were up. For a moment, nothing happened. Both sides remained stationary. And then with a lurch, everything started moving at once. My knot instantly started slipping, and I clung onto the rope for dear life, struggling to stay standing. The next few minutes dragged on and on, with the rope going back and forth. But after about 6 minutes, we started losing ground permanently. Suddenly, bodies ran past me, almost unrecognizable. It was time for last ditch efforts. We pulled with all our might, but were rapidly losing rope. The caution tape barrier loomed a few spaces before me. Then it was right on top of me. I was still desperately trying to scoot back as the whistle blew. Both sides plopped down exhausted.

After scuffling around yanking towels off the line, I finally dragged myself out of the pit and crawled over to where the rest of our defeated team sat. I started picking off the duct tape, waiting for the familiar wave of anger that usually accompanies a loss. I was shocked when I was instead greeted with a wave of our fans, congratulating us and saying, “Good job. Good fight.” It was a foreign feeling to come off a loss feeling happy, but I had genuinely had so much fun playing in the mud that I couldn’t help it. It had been years since I had felt this pure joy of competition, the kind that goes along with competing with no repercussions threatening you. There was no record to be tainted, no seed to be lost, and no angry coach to deal with, yet there was still a high level of competition. It was a baffling occurrence.

I eventually made my way back to the dorm, disgustingly filthy, exhausted, and beaming from ear to ear. Every now and then, I guess even Techies want to act like little kids again. Sometimes, we all need to take our pent up frustration out on something, and go back to a simpler time. Once a year, Greek life takes a turn for the best, when we all just have to go out and get dirty.

Day #25: Creativity

Creativity takes on a whole new significance at an engineering school. I certainly appreciate any right-brained activity so much more than I used to. Today was one of the rare occasions that I was able to exercise said activity. Since it is the evening before Tug (a big tug-of-war tournament between all of the fraternities and sororities during Greek Week), we had a team dinner and decorated our jerseys for tomorrow. I killed two birds with one stone since I escaped the dining hall as well. I put my obsessive-compulsiveness to use and drew anal letters for everyone, with my newly developed 1770 engineering letters skills. The writing on these shirts was noticeably straighter and more squared than any I have ever seen before. Looks like drafting all those straight lines came in handy after all.

Day #24: Ode to Tech

I woke up feeling rested

No sirens blared; not a sound

I paused to check my five emails

And here is what I found:

All 8 a.m.’s were cancelled

The buses came on time

Construction finally ended

And parking cost not a dime.

Professors all spoke English

Their tests were tough but fair

Chemistry labs seemed to work out

And help was always there.

It finally had stopped raining,

And Brittain’s food was gourmet

I just couldn’t help but love it…

‘til I realized:

It’s April Fool’s Day!