It's that time of the year when we realize that even though the semester has gone by in the wink of an eye, we managed to cram a lot into that extended moment. An assortment of things have occurred this semester, some of which have been documented on here, some of which may be referenced to in future postings, while others will remain secret from the public.
I have killed so many trees this semester as my full binder reflects. Many forms of notes have been resurrected: crumpled notes from the depths of my bag, notes filled with doodles in the margins, notes with funny quotes from class, but most of them are notes jam-packed with knowledge and facts I am expected to know by heart. Give me enough time and that will happen, but there simply is not enough time in the day.
I am not a huge fan of quiet places. But recently I have found myself at the library more and more, simply craving a secret nook where I can focus on my studies. I just spent 3 and 1/2 hours in a corner of Canaday driving myself crazy with chemistry involving radical distributions, orbitals, thermodynamics, polyatomic ions, and solubility rules to name a few topics. Welcome to finals week ! The week in which I will lose sanity, sleep, and common sense.
I will be done on Thursday at 12:30pm ! That is the ultimate goal. The countdown has begun. Finish with three exams and an oral so I can watch Avatar: The Last Airbender with Vanessa and go home to my family. Four things stand between me and the official end of the semester. Four pieces of chocolate remain on my "done is good" list. The end is near ! I can see the light !
It's about time I went home. Who knew I would actually miss the humidity? Especially when the weather up here in Philadelphia reaches freezing. I'm pretty sure the blood in my veins freezes a little bit each time there is a frost. It is a strange phenomenon, sometimes the cold really gets to me and sometimes I will step outside in flip-flops without a second thought. I've been chided a great many times for my clothing choices as the weather has changed, but as long as my toes do not go blue, I will continue to wear flip-flops.
I will be the death of Liz, who probably worries everyday whether or not this will be the day she will get that fateful call from Bryn Mawr Hospital. Perhaps that call will include blue toes needing an amputation, perhaps a broken arm or leg from going down Erdman hill in a shopping cart, or perhaps some other strange occurrence. You never know !
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Thanksgiving and a Reminder for the Holiday Season
Thanksgiving was yesterday. I unlike many college students did not go home. Christmas break is only 3 weeks away, so it was not worth the airfare to go home for less than four days; besides, my family does not even celebrate Thanksgiving. Instead I celebrated Thanksgiving with other members of the Bryn Mawr community. It was fantastic to have a home-cooked meal after so many weeks of dinning hall food !
In America, Thanksgiving begins the holiday season. Christmas songs begin to appear, Santa hats are resurrected out of dusty boxes, Christmas lights and trees are erected . . . the list goes on, but the holiday season is also about giving. I recently did a French debate about whether or not we are more civilized now or before. I believe we are less civilized, especially because we have become less giving. Wat ever happened to giving time and money to help those less fortunate ? Have we forgotten that in an instant we could be those at the bottom of the pecking order without a place to stay ? Our current "social status" is never permanent, it ebbs and flows over time. Nothing lasts forever, do not believe that it will because you will be disappointed.
In these harsh economic times, there are more and more people struggling to make it through the holiday season, so find a warm spot in your heart to think of them. Think of those who are fighting for our freedom away from their families in other countries, think of those who have no where to go when the snow starts to fall, think of those who must decide whether to buy their children gifts for Christmas or pay the heating bill, there are so many more examples because the hardships go on. Think of others this holiday season : send a letter to a member of our military, donate your time to a non-profit organization, buy a gift for a child you do not know, there are so many ways to help those in need.
Even the little things go a long way in the spirit of the holidays !
In America, Thanksgiving begins the holiday season. Christmas songs begin to appear, Santa hats are resurrected out of dusty boxes, Christmas lights and trees are erected . . . the list goes on, but the holiday season is also about giving. I recently did a French debate about whether or not we are more civilized now or before. I believe we are less civilized, especially because we have become less giving. Wat ever happened to giving time and money to help those less fortunate ? Have we forgotten that in an instant we could be those at the bottom of the pecking order without a place to stay ? Our current "social status" is never permanent, it ebbs and flows over time. Nothing lasts forever, do not believe that it will because you will be disappointed.
In these harsh economic times, there are more and more people struggling to make it through the holiday season, so find a warm spot in your heart to think of them. Think of those who are fighting for our freedom away from their families in other countries, think of those who have no where to go when the snow starts to fall, think of those who must decide whether to buy their children gifts for Christmas or pay the heating bill, there are so many more examples because the hardships go on. Think of others this holiday season : send a letter to a member of our military, donate your time to a non-profit organization, buy a gift for a child you do not know, there are so many ways to help those in need.
Even the little things go a long way in the spirit of the holidays !
Saturday, November 12, 2011
College Life Through My Eyes
Freshman year of college . . . no-one ever tells you how it will really be. It is your chance to discover freedom, to discover domesticity, to discover who you are.
No-one ever tells you that you will be up late into the night running around bare foot in the Cloistsers.
No-one ever tells you that you will be running up and down your hall in a shopping cart.
No-one ever tells you that you will have intense Celtic study picnics in the hall.
No-one ever tells you that you will sit on a ledge outside the window with a blanket and pillows at midnight.
No-one ever tells you that you will spend the night finger-painting and colouring pictures like a five-year old.
No-one ever tells you that you will be forest nymphs dancing on the wall in the mystery of the night.
No-one ever tells you that you will be rolling down hills.
No-one ever tells you that you will be up at doing a Harry Potter jigsaw puzzle in the wee hours of the morning.
No-one ever tells you that you will climb up walls and jump over fences.
No-one ever tells you that you will use tea bags for arts and crafts not tea.
College is what you make it. I have memories to last a lifetime and it has only been three months into freshman year. Who knows what these next four years will hold, but I know I will live each day (and night) to the fullest because you never know which one will be your last.
No-one ever tells you that you will be up late into the night running around bare foot in the Cloistsers.
No-one ever tells you that you will be running up and down your hall in a shopping cart.
No-one ever tells you that you will have intense Celtic study picnics in the hall.
No-one ever tells you that you will sit on a ledge outside the window with a blanket and pillows at midnight.
No-one ever tells you that you will spend the night finger-painting and colouring pictures like a five-year old.
No-one ever tells you that you will be forest nymphs dancing on the wall in the mystery of the night.
No-one ever tells you that you will be rolling down hills.
No-one ever tells you that you will be up at doing a Harry Potter jigsaw puzzle in the wee hours of the morning.
No-one ever tells you that you will climb up walls and jump over fences.
No-one ever tells you that you will use tea bags for arts and crafts not tea.
College is what you make it. I have memories to last a lifetime and it has only been three months into freshman year. Who knows what these next four years will hold, but I know I will live each day (and night) to the fullest because you never know which one will be your last.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Bryn Mawr Alight with White Snow and Green Lanterns
Sunday night was a beautiful tradition at Bryn Mawr called Lantern Night !
The freshman class, the class of 2015, carried on the Bryn Mawr tradition by receiving our black lanterns with green glass.
It really seems as if we have entered a cult. The black robes, the magnificent stone Cloisters, the gorgeous lanterns all lit up, singing Sophias in ancient Latin . . . it really was quite a scene ! Definitely one I will never forget and one I will cherish forever. I now understand why every woman who has passed through or who is currently at Bryn Mawr places their lantern in a place of respect, to be admired for years to come, because they are so proud to call themselves Mawrters. I am proud to call myself a Mawrter of the class of 2015 !
The freshman class, the class of 2015, carried on the Bryn Mawr tradition by receiving our black lanterns with green glass.
It really seems as if we have entered a cult. The black robes, the magnificent stone Cloisters, the gorgeous lanterns all lit up, singing Sophias in ancient Latin . . . it really was quite a scene ! Definitely one I will never forget and one I will cherish forever. I now understand why every woman who has passed through or who is currently at Bryn Mawr places their lantern in a place of respect, to be admired for years to come, because they are so proud to call themselves Mawrters. I am proud to call myself a Mawrter of the class of 2015 !
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Theory on Personality Traits of the Different Rowers of an Eight
I found this theory on the Internet and found it quite hilarious !!!
Cox:
It's pretty obvious what traits a cox must adopt and tries to learn to do a good job in this most unique position in the athletic world. I'll pass on the leadership stuff, napoleon complex garbage, and point out a secondary characteristic or two that coxes unintentionally inherit after riding in the box for a while.
They can't drive a car anymore. They take 10 miles to change a lane, over steer, can't find the brakes, and yell to the car a lot. This has nothing to do with the coxes' former driving ability. Stick Richard Petty in a cox seat for awhile, they'll take his driver's license away. Coxes also begin to squint a lot, no loss in vision, they just squint.
Stroke:
'It's a tough job but only I can do it.' The meekest, most frightened non-rower in the world; when plugged reluctantly in the stroke seat, stays meek up until the first few strokes. The first few paddle strokes, a thought grows in the wimps' sniveling little mind that this job is his/hers for life. Back on the shore, the real personality will percolate back to the surface. 'I hope you guys could follow me OK.' In the boat they're thinking: 'stop rushing, you weenies!' Strokes are born and made to be the most competitive person in the boat by far, and if they stroke long enough, become overly competitive in everything they pursue, or don't pursue. Don't expect to finish a game of Monopoly, Risk, or Golf with a stroke. The only one that can beat him to the chow line is the three man (more later) because the stroke was delayed trying to put more oars away in the rack than anyone else.
Seven:
This seat is the Bitch Niche. I don't know if whining, overly bossy, big-mouthed complainers are born, and I can't believe that the cosmic effect of this seat could possibly be so instantaneous, but you could teach Mother Theresa to row in a tank, stick her in an eight at seven for the first time, and as the stern four is rowing away from the dock, she'll turn around and yell at the bow four to 'set the f*cking boat.' The longer one rows at seven, the more sophisticated and complex the bitching becomes, changing from a crude verbal rowing suggestion to the six man in the early stages to long winded level- voiced reasoned treatises after every piece explaining why the crew is slower now than last week. Ever wonder why when a coach drives up shell-side to ask how a piece went he says: 'So how did that go, fellas? -not you seven.' I was a team captain, looked up to leader of my college crew, kept my mouth shut and did my job. I raced one week at seven, my coach told me to 'shut up Sullivan' in a post race meeting. Women who deal with severe PMS mood swings will find those swings totally disappear after some time at seven. Permanent OTR.
Six:
If you bred Arnold Swartzeneggar with a Golden Retriever, you get a six. Six is also Seven's yin. The gentle giant, gorilla in the mist. Six absorbs most of Seven's bitching and keeps it from moving through to the rest of the crew. Six nods and agrees a lot. It is a hard thing for a normal person to row Six. It seems like such a great seat, you're in the stern, the boats more stable here, but you are done with a rowing career at six, you find you been used. Sixes are characterized by great competence in execution of rowing and life, but poor self confidence and a propensity to self-flagellation. Take your 3 year stroke out of the stroke seat and stick him/her at six for a week. This will be the first time you ever hear him/her say: 'My fault, fellas,' at the end of a poor piece. Sixes meditate. Sixes marry, go to work for, and lend their power tools to sevens. This support system keeps sevens with thriving businesses, mates they can walk all over, and a garage full of power tools at their disposal that they don't have to fix when they break.
Five:
God. Yahweh. Allah. Buddha. It's not that the five seat IS those things, its just that's how (s)he gets treated. Five's stool don't stink, the catches don't hang. They're the older brother or sister that gets special treatment, and has no idea. If a photo is taken of the crew, five will look great, everyone else is caught with shirttails out, and snot on the lip. At heart and soul, five forgets to change oil, pay phone bills, and turn in forms to the IRS. Five is an example of what happens to a bum that is treated like a king, they act like one. Five has the greatest delta between image and reality. The fortunate thing is that the unearned unabashed worship lasts only as long as the time on the water. Five's on his own back at home. Five wears aviator glasses.
Four:
The Amnesia-seat. Take a genius with a photographic memory. Row said genius at four. Listen to him ask for the third time in the same warm up, 'How many of these 500s are we doing?' Four seat is not stupid, just has immediate and catastrophic memory loss. At a start and 20, four settles at 21 because in the time the cox yelled 'settle in two,' he forgot. In a Novice boat where the seats have been removed and cleaned, it'll be four's that went back in backwards. Four will forget to tell the boatman about his(her) stripped rigger nut - usually from the time he is told by the coach, until he arrives at the boatman's bench wondering what he's doing there. On that first day on the water as the ice is breaking up, who is rummaging around the back of the boathouse looking for a sweatshirt? Four is why racing shirts are handed out on race day.
Three:
Late in the water. Late to practice. Late to class. Late to work. Late out of the water. Late to his date. Late to the team bus. Late for everything but chow line. There is no competitiveness involved here, just an uncanny knack to have the first three rowers into the dining hall stopped by friends for a brief discussion while three breezes on by to the tray stack. Three generally gets assigned a sitter.
Two:
Lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight fight fight. Cheerleader. What is amazing, is to sit at four or five after a particular piece - seven is whining about the balance, the spacing, no swing, rushing: two is back there with pom poms saying: ALL RIGHT GUYS! LETS DO THAT AGAIN!... Two calls out names of power 10s. 'Awright guys - OAR CLASH TEN!' If he says something funny, he repeated something the bowman prompted him with.
Bow:
Comedian. The bow seat creates a strange fatalism. They know that in a catastrophic collision, they'll be the only one to die or get paralysed. Consequently there is a constant quiet stream of one-liners that two or three could probably hear if two were not cheering loudly. If the bow is joined by a cox in a front-loader, this trait completely disappears, since someone is now likely to hear him joke about three being late, five not pulling hard, or the cox's course looking like a signature. (S)he can be humorless and witless off the water, but on the water when there is breath to spare, you're sure to catch a chuckle if you listen.
Cox:
It's pretty obvious what traits a cox must adopt and tries to learn to do a good job in this most unique position in the athletic world. I'll pass on the leadership stuff, napoleon complex garbage, and point out a secondary characteristic or two that coxes unintentionally inherit after riding in the box for a while.
They can't drive a car anymore. They take 10 miles to change a lane, over steer, can't find the brakes, and yell to the car a lot. This has nothing to do with the coxes' former driving ability. Stick Richard Petty in a cox seat for awhile, they'll take his driver's license away. Coxes also begin to squint a lot, no loss in vision, they just squint.
Stroke:
'It's a tough job but only I can do it.' The meekest, most frightened non-rower in the world; when plugged reluctantly in the stroke seat, stays meek up until the first few strokes. The first few paddle strokes, a thought grows in the wimps' sniveling little mind that this job is his/hers for life. Back on the shore, the real personality will percolate back to the surface. 'I hope you guys could follow me OK.' In the boat they're thinking: 'stop rushing, you weenies!' Strokes are born and made to be the most competitive person in the boat by far, and if they stroke long enough, become overly competitive in everything they pursue, or don't pursue. Don't expect to finish a game of Monopoly, Risk, or Golf with a stroke. The only one that can beat him to the chow line is the three man (more later) because the stroke was delayed trying to put more oars away in the rack than anyone else.
Seven:
This seat is the Bitch Niche. I don't know if whining, overly bossy, big-mouthed complainers are born, and I can't believe that the cosmic effect of this seat could possibly be so instantaneous, but you could teach Mother Theresa to row in a tank, stick her in an eight at seven for the first time, and as the stern four is rowing away from the dock, she'll turn around and yell at the bow four to 'set the f*cking boat.' The longer one rows at seven, the more sophisticated and complex the bitching becomes, changing from a crude verbal rowing suggestion to the six man in the early stages to long winded level- voiced reasoned treatises after every piece explaining why the crew is slower now than last week. Ever wonder why when a coach drives up shell-side to ask how a piece went he says: 'So how did that go, fellas? -not you seven.' I was a team captain, looked up to leader of my college crew, kept my mouth shut and did my job. I raced one week at seven, my coach told me to 'shut up Sullivan' in a post race meeting. Women who deal with severe PMS mood swings will find those swings totally disappear after some time at seven. Permanent OTR.
Six:
If you bred Arnold Swartzeneggar with a Golden Retriever, you get a six. Six is also Seven's yin. The gentle giant, gorilla in the mist. Six absorbs most of Seven's bitching and keeps it from moving through to the rest of the crew. Six nods and agrees a lot. It is a hard thing for a normal person to row Six. It seems like such a great seat, you're in the stern, the boats more stable here, but you are done with a rowing career at six, you find you been used. Sixes are characterized by great competence in execution of rowing and life, but poor self confidence and a propensity to self-flagellation. Take your 3 year stroke out of the stroke seat and stick him/her at six for a week. This will be the first time you ever hear him/her say: 'My fault, fellas,' at the end of a poor piece. Sixes meditate. Sixes marry, go to work for, and lend their power tools to sevens. This support system keeps sevens with thriving businesses, mates they can walk all over, and a garage full of power tools at their disposal that they don't have to fix when they break.
Five:
God. Yahweh. Allah. Buddha. It's not that the five seat IS those things, its just that's how (s)he gets treated. Five's stool don't stink, the catches don't hang. They're the older brother or sister that gets special treatment, and has no idea. If a photo is taken of the crew, five will look great, everyone else is caught with shirttails out, and snot on the lip. At heart and soul, five forgets to change oil, pay phone bills, and turn in forms to the IRS. Five is an example of what happens to a bum that is treated like a king, they act like one. Five has the greatest delta between image and reality. The fortunate thing is that the unearned unabashed worship lasts only as long as the time on the water. Five's on his own back at home. Five wears aviator glasses.
Four:
The Amnesia-seat. Take a genius with a photographic memory. Row said genius at four. Listen to him ask for the third time in the same warm up, 'How many of these 500s are we doing?' Four seat is not stupid, just has immediate and catastrophic memory loss. At a start and 20, four settles at 21 because in the time the cox yelled 'settle in two,' he forgot. In a Novice boat where the seats have been removed and cleaned, it'll be four's that went back in backwards. Four will forget to tell the boatman about his(her) stripped rigger nut - usually from the time he is told by the coach, until he arrives at the boatman's bench wondering what he's doing there. On that first day on the water as the ice is breaking up, who is rummaging around the back of the boathouse looking for a sweatshirt? Four is why racing shirts are handed out on race day.
Three:
Late in the water. Late to practice. Late to class. Late to work. Late out of the water. Late to his date. Late to the team bus. Late for everything but chow line. There is no competitiveness involved here, just an uncanny knack to have the first three rowers into the dining hall stopped by friends for a brief discussion while three breezes on by to the tray stack. Three generally gets assigned a sitter.
Two:
Lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down, fight fight fight. Cheerleader. What is amazing, is to sit at four or five after a particular piece - seven is whining about the balance, the spacing, no swing, rushing: two is back there with pom poms saying: ALL RIGHT GUYS! LETS DO THAT AGAIN!... Two calls out names of power 10s. 'Awright guys - OAR CLASH TEN!' If he says something funny, he repeated something the bowman prompted him with.
Bow:
Comedian. The bow seat creates a strange fatalism. They know that in a catastrophic collision, they'll be the only one to die or get paralysed. Consequently there is a constant quiet stream of one-liners that two or three could probably hear if two were not cheering loudly. If the bow is joined by a cox in a front-loader, this trait completely disappears, since someone is now likely to hear him joke about three being late, five not pulling hard, or the cox's course looking like a signature. (S)he can be humorless and witless off the water, but on the water when there is breath to spare, you're sure to catch a chuckle if you listen.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Crew Progress !
We got into the racing shell yesterday and today for the first time on the Schuylkill River !!! :D
However, the two days were starkly different.
Monday, was our first day actually going down the river in a racing shell; because, although on Friday we got into the shell, Coach Tom's motor boat did not work. Therefore, because we are novices, we could not go on the river alone, i.e. without a coach near us.
On Monday, however, the motor boat was working, so we actually went out on the river.
There was some serious issues with balancing. Half the time I could not get my oar out of the murky water to take a stroke. Being in the bow seat, I needed to take strokes in order to control the boat in the correct direction at the beginning, end, and during turns, but was unable to.
Let's just say by the end of the practice, I was frustrated to say the least. I will not go any further with as to why because what happens at the boathouse, stays at the boathouse.
Today, Tuesday, was quite different though, thankfully. The boat was actually stable ! I actually rowed with my oar in the water ! Thank you crew-mates !!! We need to work together in order to succeed this season :)
Let's go Mawrters :D !!!
Crew love !
However, the two days were starkly different.
Monday, was our first day actually going down the river in a racing shell; because, although on Friday we got into the shell, Coach Tom's motor boat did not work. Therefore, because we are novices, we could not go on the river alone, i.e. without a coach near us.
On Monday, however, the motor boat was working, so we actually went out on the river.
There was some serious issues with balancing. Half the time I could not get my oar out of the murky water to take a stroke. Being in the bow seat, I needed to take strokes in order to control the boat in the correct direction at the beginning, end, and during turns, but was unable to.
Let's just say by the end of the practice, I was frustrated to say the least. I will not go any further with as to why because what happens at the boathouse, stays at the boathouse.
Today, Tuesday, was quite different though, thankfully. The boat was actually stable ! I actually rowed with my oar in the water ! Thank you crew-mates !!! We need to work together in order to succeed this season :)
Let's go Mawrters :D !!!
Crew love !
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