Interested in becoming the Leeds First Year Student Blogger for 2010-2011?

The Leeds Office of Undergraduate Student Services is beginning our search for the 2010-2011 First Year Student Blogger. If you plan to be a new first-year student beginning in the Fall of 2010 and love to write- please consider applying for this position. This is a PAID part time position within the Leeds School of Business.

To learn more about the blogger position please visit: http://www.leeds.colorado.edu/leedsfirstyear

Click on Leeds First Year Student Blogger Job Description for further information.

If you have further questions please feel free to contact Sally Forester at 303-492-3530 or Sally.Forester@Colorado.edu

This Is Goodbye My Friends

I have this white board in my old bedroom in my parent’s house that is still filled with a list of things to bring to college, which I hastily scribbled out five months ago. When I returned home sick, the list couldn’t help but draw my eye, with it’s bright blue scrawl now acting as the centerpiece in my empty room.

Rock Climbing Gear

Yoga Stuff

Bedding…

It is amazing that this messy little list is the best reminder of what I thought my first semester in college would be like. I was finally escaping god-forsaken Oklahoma to live at the base of the Rockies, in a town where yoga studios littered every corner and I could eat granola and yogurt every day. In the end, I did a pretty good job guessing what I would need for life in my teeny-tiny dorm. But I could never have predicted how my first semester would turn out. Though I put my climbing gear at the top of the list, I only made the time to go climbing once, and my yoga practice took a long vacation when my illness moved in. I did make ample use of my bedding (you become good friends with your sheets when you are bedridden for two months), and ate my weight in granola and yogurt.

Now I am moving back home to recover from my illness with my family’s support, and I have been reflecting on my first semester of college. I imagined that I would climb out of bed in the morning, dash off to yoga for an hour or two, maybe go to a few classes, then be off to the Flat Irons for an evening climb. Clearly, life had different plans.

I wish that I could offer up an insight from my experience, summarize in five hundred words or less the greater truth I have learned. But, I can’t. Like my situation right now, my emotions and insights are complicated. I enjoyed my time at CU; I will miss the school and my friends. But I know logically that returning to the University of Oklahoma is the best thing for me right now. I have no clear idea what I want to do with my life, or even what continent I will be on in six months. I do not even know where I will be living in January.

All I can really do is try to avoid poking my tender and confused emotions too much, and let them sort themselves out. I can bake Christmas cookies, enroll in classes, and try to find some way to build a new life in Oklahoma. Looking back, it was the times when I was goofing off with my friends, or doing what I loved that I was happiest. So, maybe it doesn’t matter what state I am in (and maybe Oklahoma is not as god-forsaken as I once thought), but what I do with the time that is given me.

For now, the only insight I can offer you in my last post is this; life never fits in a plan. There is rarely a clear answer, and it is nearly impossible to pick a course and stick with it till the end. But despite my terribly confused life and my equally confused emotions, the monkey wrenches I have been thrown have made my life richer than I could have imagined when I first wrote my list on that abandoned white board.

Living In A Closet-Sized Room With A Complete Stranger....

I never thought I would enjoy living in a teeny-tiny, off-white dorm room with a complete stranger, and I will admit, there were parts of living in the dorms that I absolutely loathed. The food is terrible (and bad for me to boot), the gentlemen who live above my room have terrible taste in techno music, and I cannot have a dog. But, overall, I am glad that I chose to live in the dorms.

As the woman in the study abroad talk commented, “Living in a closet-sized room with a total stranger, no kitchen, and a public bathroom for a year is a uniquely American thing.” Most of my parent’s friends, who have long left their college days behind, simply shake their head and grimace when I describe the manner in which I live. It is amazing how the look they give me perfectly matches the looks I get while discussing my miserable, two month long mystery illness—as if they were equivalent levels of suffering. But honestly, though I play up the sympathy card with colorful descriptions of strange, gelatinous substances in the sinks and comparisons to high-class refugee camps, it is not that miserable.

I have never been in a place that is so silly and carefree. We prance around and two o’clock in the morning, stealing people’s chairs and hiding them in the public showers. Doors are never locked here, and I constantly have girls walking into my room heralding the usual opening phrase, “I have the best gossip.” We watch the gag reel of “Star Trek 2009” seven times in a row, and my roommate reads me bedtime stories about all the chemicals in refined sugar that will make me grow a third arm twenty years down the road.

I spent all of last night camped out in on my friend’s obnoxiously pink shag rug (honestly, it looks like Barbie vomited on it) playing “Star Wars Trivial Pursuit” with my roommate and friend Chelsea (whose depths of nerd knowledge never fail to amaze me). We pig out on Cosmos Pizza and chocolate-chip cookies, paint our toenails, and mercilessly judge the hot (or not hot) men on TV. Nights like those are the ones that have made my college experience worthwhile.

I love that company is only a few steps and a knock on the door away. I have gotten to know the girls in my hall like I have never known anyone before. How many people get to see that Miss Southern Bell Emma is a trekkie? Or that Caroline (a biology major) has always dreamed of being a D.J.? Or that Diana has a completely irrational fear of fish? But, these are the silly things you learn about someone’s private life that you cannot learn without hanging out on a Tuesday night, and a Wednesday night, and Thursday, and well you catch my drift.

My roommate, Diana, has been the most worthwhile thing about the dorms. She is a quirky, considerate, bundle of chaos. She is always up for anything, she is a modern twist on her old-school hippie mother and father, she has these disturbingly bohemian moments, she shops for shoes in Prague, and she one of the most down-to-earth people I know.

As shocked as I am to hear myself saying this, living in a closet sized room with a complete stranger was the best thing I have done for myself in college. I don’t know what I would do without Diana’s wise/bohemian/amazingly down to earth/off the wall advice. The funny thing is that we are not best friends (we would probably slit each other’s throats if we saw much more of each other); she is more like my favorite cousin. She knows all of the minute details of my existence: from my worst hair days, to my strange compulsion to make my bed (which only developed after I moved out of my parent’s house—sorry mom), to my unhealthy obsession with “The West Wing.” It is amazing to have someone who knows me that well to seek opinions from, and who gives those opinions without an opinion about who I should become.

I think I will come to miss our daily floor-wide exercise-video workouts (ordered off an infomercial—as the best kinds always are), our lazy nights spent flipping through Cosmo and discussing the latest scandals, and most of all, the companionship that is inevitably born from living in such close proximity to one another. But let’s be honest, despite all the good, I won’t be signing up for another year in the dorms.

Gone Home Sick

My mother looked at me across the kitchen counter in her home in Oklahoma. “You are flying home tomorrow, don’t forget,” she said in mock serious tones.

“Oh right, I can’t wait to see you,” I replied with similar gravity. “There is one hitch,” I continued with our ruse, “how am I supposed to fly home when I am already here?”

I was supposed to be packing my bags right now to leave for Thanksgiving Break tomorrow afternoon. However, life had different plans. About a month ago, I got sick…very sick. I have somehow royally angered the sickness gods, because I have still not recovered, or shown many signs of progress. To top it all off, we have no idea what is wrong with me, and no clue as to when I will get better. So, I returned home a week ago to recover (hence the delay in posts; sorry about that).

This is one of those situations that my “how to survive college” books and orientations meetings (yes, I actually paid attention to those—I know I am a nerd) did not guide me through. Like all real-life situations, I have been forced to learn a few things.

1) Email your professors—incessantly. From the moment you first wake up feeling like you have been hit by a train to the time when the last traces of the sniffles are a distant memory, give them updates on your status and limitations. I am not exaggerating when I say that you should tell them about every cough, doctor’s appointment, and missed lecture. They need you to document your condition so they can help you recover your semester when you recover your health. If you mysteriously disappear in the middle of semester without any communications, they will either assume that you have become a practitioner of “skis and c’s” or will file a missing person’s report on you. Either will leave a large, persistent headache waiting to welcome you back with open arms.

2) Get doctors to sign off on everything. It is hard to argue with a doctor’s note saying you are too sick to go to class. And this could come in handy if you are forced to withdraw for a semester, or if you are sick for long enough to need extra help catching up in your classes.

3) Don’t be a hermit. For the first two-and-a-half weeks, I tried to tough out my illness on my own. This was probably the single stupidest thing I have ever done. Once my parent’s found out that I had told no one of my condition and berated me for my foolishness, I decided that instead spending the next seventeen days spent locked in my closet sized dorm room eating only canned soup and toast, I would start to ask for help. On the bright side, eating only canned soup nipped that freshman fifteen problem right in the butt. But, losing fifteen pounds because you are too weak to get out of bed and feed yourself and are too stubborn to ask for help is not what I would call ideal. Once I told people that I was ill, I have received a rather overwhelming number of offers of help and concern. The day when my friend Bianca charged into my room, breaking a three day streak of almost complete isolation, and announced that she was going to hang out with me for a few hours and would not be catching what I have (The only explanation of that assurance was her bark of “mind over matter.”) may well have been the happiest moment of my life.

After I saw sense and started communicating with others about my situation, my standard of living has dramatically improved. My professors have all assured me that they are more than willing to help me in any way they can to recover my semester. Both of my bosses pardoned any work or deadline I had to meet. My mom came and took care of me for a few days, then took me home to my nice big bed, kitchen, and puppy dog! Even my doctor at Wardenburg has been wonderfully helpful, writing notes to my teachers, copying my lab results for me, and even calling every day to check in on how I am doing.

I don't know when I will get better (I admit I was a very disappointed that I did not recover immediately upon returning home; I had secretly hoped it was just an acute case of homesickness). For now, all I can do is try my best to enjoy my forced vacation, and try not to stress about the semesters to come. As all of my teacher and friends have told me, right now I need to “focus on getting better.”

Please Save Me From My Dad's Tofurky!

As you know, Thanksgiving is just around the corner. I am lucky enough to be celebrating the holiday with my family this year. But, like all time spent with family, this comes with a catch. This will be my first Thanksgiving as a vegetarian and my dad has some peculiar attachment to feeding me meat substitutes. Now, I have nothing against tofu or tempe, but really there is only so much fake meat a person can take. I am to the point where I would very much like to beat him senseless with one of his soy sausages. But, I know that he is well intentioned, so do you have any suggestions for a protein-rich Thanksgiving dish (with no soy-based meaty mystery substances) that I can tactfully recommend instead? Please?

Naked Pumpkin Run Divides Boulder!

(Due to adult content, there will be no picture accompanying this post. Viewer discretion advised.)

Boulder’s latest scandal has made national news, or at least the top stories in the Wall Street Journal http://online.wsj.com/article/SB125693458626119361.html

(I read it sometimes because they give it to me for free in the Business School—see mom, having things “just handed to you” can teach me important things). Every year the residents of Boulder, including many CU students, partake in a very Boulder-like tradition called the Naked Pumpkin Run. I am sure you will be shocked to find out that this run is exactly what it sounds like; runners strip down to their skins, place hollowed out pumpkins on their heads, and run down Pearl Street at an undisclosed hour on Halloween night (normally around midnight). For years, hordes of adoring fans have gathered in the city’s center street to cheer them on, while the police stand by a bit helplessly (this may be due to the fact that it is not actually illegal to run naked through the streets in Boulder, or maybe just a natural shyness about tackling and arresting naked people).

This year, that has changed…

It seems that the chief of police is trying to crack down on these nudist runners—much to the shock and dismay of Boulder citizens. As the Wall Street Journal put it, “the city has had a long, proud history of nudity.” Yet, this Halloween, the police deployed forty officers and two SWAT teams to patrol the three-block area, under orders to arrest any naked runners as sex offenders (Aren’t SWAT teams normally used in emergencies like hostage situations and terrorist attacks? I somehow doubt that a throng of naked runners qualifies as a national emergency.) Residents fear that the police action will tarnish Boulder’s reputation as a city over-run with crazy, upper-class hippies. Even the mayor is against the police’s crack down.

It now seems like Boulder is splitting at the seams. With public officials picking sides I would like to know what you all think. Have the police gone too far? Or is this Boulder rite of passage a little too strange for civilized society? I personally am a fan of the run, but my word is not law (sadly) and the debate rages on in Boulder. Hapa Restaurant found the silver lining to this situation and are raking in the publicity for their brilliant ad campaign—giving out free orange underwear with “Run Responsibly” printed on the back (http://www.dailycamera.com/archivesearch/ci_13661322). But many runners refused the free gift, bearing it all to let Boulder be, well, Boulder.

Snow!

It is snowing today. The sky has that peculiar texture that it obtains only when it snows—composed of dense, light grey clouds, without a single break for the entire skyline—so that it looks like the normally blue sky has been blocked out by a warm, old blanket that all of CU is snuggling up under. I am curled up underneath the biggest window in my dorm, drinking a mug of hot chocolate as big as my head, and watching the fat flakes fall from the sky.

Back in Oklahoma, snow was a special occasion. During the one or two snowfalls a year, everyone would cluster by the window and watch the flakes come down. When it snowed, schools would shut down, parents would brew hot chocolate, and kids would hurl themselves out to play at the lightest dusting of white on the ground. Snow cemented its special place in my heart one morning when I was eight or nine. My sister and mother and I had made a Jello cake the night before. But, it was not ready before bed, so I was condemned to leave it for dessert the night after. When I woke the next morning and bounced to breakfast, what to my wondering eyes did appear? My mother, holding a large slice of Jello cake and a steaming mug of hot coco to hype me up for a day in the snow. We never, ever ate desserts at my house; so naturally, I could not believe my eyes. I kept glancing up at my mom, waiting for her to change her mind, and snatch the plate away. But she never did. After I finished what was probably the happiest meal of my life, my big sister and I ran outside and played all day in a sugared-up frenzy. My mom even took time off of work to help us build the biggest snow fort in history!

But, I have found that in Colorado, snow does not hold the same magic. Most of the natives I know simply sigh, pull on their snow boots, and resign themselves to a day of slogging through the mud to get to class. At the beginning of summer, when I was waiting out the ninety-degree heat, I would chatter on to my new friends about how I could not wait for it to snow. Most of them looked at me baffled. “Why? Snow is so annoying,” they would reply. So naturally, today as I bundled up in my snow gear, ready to play in the snow, my roommate looks at me, shakes her head, and just says, “No. I am going to fall over. My boots are going to get wet.”

I have begun to react to college in a similar manner to Coloradoans and the snow. Many mornings I sigh, pull up a stack of books, and begin to tackle that day’s to-do list. I have found that college is surprisingly monotonous. Granted, there are great opportunities, but most of my days are spent hacking away at endless homework, keeping up with my paid work, or going to class. Maybe it is just the truth of anything that you live everyday, but the shiny has rubbed off of college, and it can just be tedious.

Today, the snow reminded me to look for the magic in my life. Despite the mud on my academic boots, college is still this fairy-tale place where we can hang out with other intellectuals, sample almost every type of subject imaginable in search of our passion, and when we finally do find a passion, study under leaders in the field.

In the midst of midterm season, I too often focus on the work and the stress, and I lose sight of just how good my life is right now. But, when I am feeling most worn down, I pass in front of a window and watch the flakes come down.