As you've probably heard from every college student you've had any interaction with over the last few days, it's finals weeks. Which means, as you've probably heard from all the freshman college students you've had any interaction with over the past few days, our first semester of college is almost vanquished. It' doesn't feel like the semester is over, because I still have a fairly significant amount of work to do, but I'm seeing, if not the end of the tunnel, at least the top of the hill.
But classes are over. The semester is, essentially, over. Last year a wise, bearded mandolin player (seriously though) enlightened me to the
fact that college courses end after one semester. Maybe this is common
knowledge, but if he hadn't told me, I probably wouldn't have found out
until this moment. This shocking realization lead me to one even more alarming. I'm going to miss my classes.
I walked, giddily, out of my exam today. I walked out of an oral exam giddy. Granted, getting out of an exam early is one of life's more exhilarating experiences, but
Those who know me know that I'm not an academic over-achiever. I'm not saying I'm stupid, but there are people who love the very experience of learning and I, until this point, have never been one of them. I have turned in papers five or six words over the minimum, and I will never do optional reading. I don't generally have many positive feelings toward any class after its final exam (Journalism being the exception out of the 28 that I took in high school). Even though my AP Lit teacher was fantastic, and the class did indeed prepare me to college in a beat-into-submission kind of way, I would never take it again. But if you sat me down and told me I had to listen to Borgman rant about Abraham for another four months, I'd be pretty okay with it.
Maybe I got lucky with my class choice this year-- I know, with my earliest class at 11:25, I did with their timing. I had Intro to Creative Writing, which stereotypically had the strangest conglomeration of students, as well as a very personable, very hipster professor. I took the Examined Life, the required philosophy class that I not only didn't hate, but enjoyed so much I'm considering a minor in philosophy. There was Bible as Literature, with it's meager six students and very eccentric, charismatic, yet somewhat...kooky professor. And then we have Old Testament. For that one, it's not the class I will miss as much as the company of the person to the right of me. All my professors were really nice, all the homework was reasonable, and I frequently slept in until 11:00 am. I promise, I'm not being paid by Gordon for this.
So, after thinking about this for a while, I came to another The internet would make an inception joke here. Looking back at the posts from this semester, realization, learning, is the motif, the common thread running through it all. I learned how good Sam is at creating weaponry from paper, I learned the
difference between tuna and chicken salad (and forgot it again), I
learned--to an extent-- how much more Africa affected me than I thought. And heck, I've enjoyed it.
I never imagined considering graduate school, and I know it's ridiculous to consider it at this point, but seven and a half years of school don't sound as bad as they once did. There are so many things to learn! I'm majoring in English, but I'm auditioning for a music minor next year, plus there's drama, philosophy, biblical studies...all incredibly interesting subjects worth pursuing.
Even ignoring all classes this semester, I learned that fishercat calls are horrifying, what swag is, that the library steps are best place on campus to see the sky, all seven verses of "O Come All Ye Faithful," that my facial hair is still patchy, that it's really hard to be spontaneous without a car, and that girls don't appreciate incredibly abrasive Bostonian waiters.
There is still plenty I have yet to learn of course. I still don't know why there are hooks on our door if we can't hook anything on them and the proper response for "what's good?", but hey. That's what the next seven semesters are for. Also the rest of my life.
-Will
"Things that come easy are not usually good. Good things take effort."
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Dry Season
Recently I've realized that I've been affected by my time in Africa much more than I was aware of.
In early October, as I possessed zero water-resistant outer garments, my dad took me to get an umbrella and a raincoat at various Wenham-area retailers. I appreciated the thought and the generosity, but I quite frankly thought it was kind of silly. I never considered why I thought this silly. If I had thought through my logic, however, I would have come to the idea that "it rained really hard this last week, so it must be about dry season now." But because I didn't ever get that far, and tell that to myself, I didn't realize that that is of course not a thing here.
I was fantastic to see so many people in this past week. I saw my bros from Charter, people at church, most of my extended family, a couple of friends from DA, and even my friend in Texas (which if I haven't ranted about to you yet, was a fantastic trip). It was a great time, but it kind of took me off guard, for the same reason as the rain has. In my head, when I said bye to them at the end of the summer, I didn't really expect to see them for another year. I told them, in a-- I promise-- non-manufactured surprised manner, that "I'll see you at Thanksgiving!" But again, if I had thought it through, I would have seen that I didn't believe what I was saying.
You could say it's the effect of two summers and no winters back in America had. Some might call it a rare, psychological phenomenon. But if I were being honest with myself, you know what I'd call it? Culture shock.
-Will
"Look there's a statue!"
In early October, as I possessed zero water-resistant outer garments, my dad took me to get an umbrella and a raincoat at various Wenham-area retailers. I appreciated the thought and the generosity, but I quite frankly thought it was kind of silly. I never considered why I thought this silly. If I had thought through my logic, however, I would have come to the idea that "it rained really hard this last week, so it must be about dry season now." But because I didn't ever get that far, and tell that to myself, I didn't realize that that is of course not a thing here.
I was fantastic to see so many people in this past week. I saw my bros from Charter, people at church, most of my extended family, a couple of friends from DA, and even my friend in Texas (which if I haven't ranted about to you yet, was a fantastic trip). It was a great time, but it kind of took me off guard, for the same reason as the rain has. In my head, when I said bye to them at the end of the summer, I didn't really expect to see them for another year. I told them, in a-- I promise-- non-manufactured surprised manner, that "I'll see you at Thanksgiving!" But again, if I had thought it through, I would have seen that I didn't believe what I was saying.
You could say it's the effect of two summers and no winters back in America had. Some might call it a rare, psychological phenomenon. But if I were being honest with myself, you know what I'd call it? Culture shock.
-Will
"Look there's a statue!"
Monday, October 17, 2011
"Did You Partake in the Miracle of Human Flight, You Noncontributing Zero?!"
I've had a lot of technological topics on my mind these past few months, what with returning to the land of consumerism, buying my first TV and laptop, and the death of and subsequent honor and worship bestowed upon Steve Jobs. But someone showed me this video the other week and I realized that Louie CK had already said, more succinctly and hilariously than I ever could, what I wanted to.
I embed to you "Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy."
-Will
"Like, how quickly the world owes him something he knew existed only ten seconds ago."
I embed to you "Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy."
-Will
"Like, how quickly the world owes him something he knew existed only ten seconds ago."
Sunday, October 9, 2011
And For my First Job...
I got the most cliched possibility: a dishwasher. However, since most of the stories from the dishroom involve long hours with steamy old food and spraying bits of ambiguous foodstuffs out of the machine with a hose (somehow there is always macaroni cheese in the grates, yet we rarely serve macaroni), I will tell the tale of the deli line.
I've been gradually learning the ins and outs of the various positions at Lane, our beloved cafeteria, and today I ended up placed in the sandwich line. Seems pretty straightforward, right? For a normal person, it would be.
I suddenly remembered that from Kindergarten to 8th grade there wasn't a school day I can remember that I didn't have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Since then, if I'm having something else, I pretty religiously stick to American cheese with some kind of basic meat. I've never had lettuce and tomatoes on them in my life. I am not known for my exotic sandwiching.
I hadn't glanced at the two ambiguously diced and mayo-ed bins of meat, varying slightly in hue, which I now know were tuna and chicken salad. When the second girl in line asked for chicken salad, I came to the terrifying realization that I didn't know which was which. I had to ask her, which was which.
She told me I was "kind of scaring her," and I understood.
One girl, an acquaintance whom I relayed the episode to, said that since I could not distinguish the two she had "lost faith in me as a human being." It got pretty intense. When I said I didn't like mayo she just walked off.
Then a few sandwiches, a bit of nervous sweat, and one get-into-the-groove later, a girl ordered a pita. This is a bread option difficult to stuff in any situation. It would have been okay if she had ordered hummus and a slice of lettuce, but she ordered half a farm! Lettuce, tomato, salami, ham, pickles, onions, the works. There's like a quarter of an inch of space in these things!
I handed her a plate with her sandwich spilling out from the pita like taun-taun guts, and she gave me this look like it was physically possible to fit such an assortment of sandwich items into this quasi-bread. Not my fault.
Some say that everyone should work food service at least once, which I now heartily agree to. I've always liked the sandwich ladies at lunch--they're friendly, and they make a mean ham-and-cheese-- but I have never had more respect for them.
Tan-colored, Gordon-branded uniform hats off to you, workers of Lane.
-Will
"Whoa! There's a shirt with like, the whole Justice League on it."
I've been gradually learning the ins and outs of the various positions at Lane, our beloved cafeteria, and today I ended up placed in the sandwich line. Seems pretty straightforward, right? For a normal person, it would be.
I suddenly remembered that from Kindergarten to 8th grade there wasn't a school day I can remember that I didn't have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Since then, if I'm having something else, I pretty religiously stick to American cheese with some kind of basic meat. I've never had lettuce and tomatoes on them in my life. I am not known for my exotic sandwiching.
I hadn't glanced at the two ambiguously diced and mayo-ed bins of meat, varying slightly in hue, which I now know were tuna and chicken salad. When the second girl in line asked for chicken salad, I came to the terrifying realization that I didn't know which was which. I had to ask her, which was which.
She told me I was "kind of scaring her," and I understood.
One girl, an acquaintance whom I relayed the episode to, said that since I could not distinguish the two she had "lost faith in me as a human being." It got pretty intense. When I said I didn't like mayo she just walked off.
Then a few sandwiches, a bit of nervous sweat, and one get-into-the-groove later, a girl ordered a pita. This is a bread option difficult to stuff in any situation. It would have been okay if she had ordered hummus and a slice of lettuce, but she ordered half a farm! Lettuce, tomato, salami, ham, pickles, onions, the works. There's like a quarter of an inch of space in these things!
I handed her a plate with her sandwich spilling out from the pita like taun-taun guts, and she gave me this look like it was physically possible to fit such an assortment of sandwich items into this quasi-bread. Not my fault.
Some say that everyone should work food service at least once, which I now heartily agree to. I've always liked the sandwich ladies at lunch--they're friendly, and they make a mean ham-and-cheese-- but I have never had more respect for them.
Tan-colored, Gordon-branded uniform hats off to you, workers of Lane.
-Will
"Whoa! There's a shirt with like, the whole Justice League on it."
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Weathered
Walking out of the dining hall tonight was a more energizing experience than I would have possibly guessed. I could smell the ocean as if I were standing on its shore, although I was miles from it. One side of the sky was tinted orange and the other a strange green, yet the whole of it was glowing as if it were holding back day from us. Early-fallen red leaves kicked up high into the air from a strong wind, driven by the pressure before a storm. It's the sort of night that seems almost supernatural, the kind of weather that makes one expect something incredible to happen.
As I've told most of the people who would listen, I'm incredibly excited for the only two things I couldn't re-experience during my summer America trips; fall and winter-- and I forgot, even, how quickly the former can arrive.
Although I don't consider fall in full swing (as excited as I am to wear my tucs, new and old, they are still optional headgear), the weather has been fantastic from the day I arrived. Instead of this time of year being marked by a constant,"stagnant, blistering heat," I've worn a t-shirt and been hot, a heavy coat and been cold, a raincoat and been wet. Mostly though, a jacket is enough, but that is thrilling to me.
Pumpkins mysteriously and festively appeared on our dorm steps last week, and they were my favorite things. It has been three years since I've seen a pumpkin. Three years! What would Linus say?
Cider is now readily available at the coffee house on campus. Football is flowing like wine, even though both my teams decided to play poorly this week. The Office started up again last week. The weather's getting crisp again, for good. I am a seriously happy person right now.
Because it's October here, and that means something.
-Will
"Because I do want to know what Will's up to and he's not granting me that ability."
As I've told most of the people who would listen, I'm incredibly excited for the only two things I couldn't re-experience during my summer America trips; fall and winter-- and I forgot, even, how quickly the former can arrive.
Although I don't consider fall in full swing (as excited as I am to wear my tucs, new and old, they are still optional headgear), the weather has been fantastic from the day I arrived. Instead of this time of year being marked by a constant,"stagnant, blistering heat," I've worn a t-shirt and been hot, a heavy coat and been cold, a raincoat and been wet. Mostly though, a jacket is enough, but that is thrilling to me.
Pumpkins mysteriously and festively appeared on our dorm steps last week, and they were my favorite things. It has been three years since I've seen a pumpkin. Three years! What would Linus say?
Cider is now readily available at the coffee house on campus. Football is flowing like wine, even though both my teams decided to play poorly this week. The Office started up again last week. The weather's getting crisp again, for good. I am a seriously happy person right now.
Because it's October here, and that means something.
-Will
"Because I do want to know what Will's up to and he's not granting me that ability."
Saturday, September 10, 2011
My Brother the Chief
About an hour ago, I was speechless about the sunset at Good Harbor beach.
To imagine that this is a normal sight to people with beach houses was and is beyond my comprehension.
I am now speechless in a very different way, over a very different type of picture.
I cannot even describe what just came over me. It was a sort of mix of nostalgia, utter pride, brotherly love
He's been working on them for a while now, and I've of course been asking for some pictures of the finished product. He and they exceeded my expectations about as far as is legal to exceed them.
And it's not just the poses anyone could think about. There are 35 pictures in the album, showing Master Chief not just posing like a boss, but playing ping-pong,
chess,
and my personal favorite, wearing a sombrero and twirling a mustache that tragically couldn't exist.
Knowing that my little brother is spending his time doing this evokes such pride that my heart cliche-dly swells up. It's like when Anna started playing Pokemon Yellow. I miss my family, I think, a lot more than I'm conscious of. I miss you, Sam. Love you dude.
-Will
"Why shouldn't I look at the sun?"
To imagine that this is a normal sight to people with beach houses was and is beyond my comprehension.
I am now speechless in a very different way, over a very different type of picture.
I cannot even describe what just came over me. It was a sort of mix of nostalgia, utter pride, brotherly loveHe's been working on them for a while now, and I've of course been asking for some pictures of the finished product. He and they exceeded my expectations about as far as is legal to exceed them.
And it's not just the poses anyone could think about. There are 35 pictures in the album, showing Master Chief not just posing like a boss, but playing ping-pong,
chess,
and my personal favorite, wearing a sombrero and twirling a mustache that tragically couldn't exist.
Knowing that my little brother is spending his time doing this evokes such pride that my heart cliche-dly swells up. It's like when Anna started playing Pokemon Yellow. I miss my family, I think, a lot more than I'm conscious of. I miss you, Sam. Love you dude.
-Will
"Why shouldn't I look at the sun?"
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Come On Irene
Tomorrow, as most of you may know, is the day hurricane Irene is hitting Massachusetts. Since our dorm is what some would call a piece of crap, we're actually being evacuated to somewhere...newer. Also where there aren't several, giant trees around. I thought I'd give a regularly updated account of the events over here at Gordon-- like twitter, really, but less completely useless.
So this is either going to be a gripping, Cloverfield-like first person perspective on the worst natural disaster Gordon has ever seen, or a chronicling of 20 dudes who stocked up on junk food, being in a basement, and eating the junk food.
Saturday
5:30-- (T-minus 16.5 hours until lockdown) Target run to pick up some food for tomorrow. Luckily they hadn't raised Easy Mac prices tenfold in anticipation of the storm. Also purchased a scooter. As in, a razor scooter. Apparently those are socially acceptable here, and since there's real pavement here, they work.
7:30-- (T-minus 14.5) Test out scooter on way to dining hall. It is awesome. My seven minute trip from the dorm to the dining hall is now a meager 180 seconds.
8:20-- Packing time. To take, or not to take my entire nerf selection. Better safe than sorry.
9:42-- Still packing. Things are getting somewhat serious, actually-- the RA is planning to bump the evacuation time from tomorrow at 9 am to tonight at midnight.
9:56-- Now avoiding the news. Pictures and "deadly storm" headlines really can do no good for me at this point. It'll probably be fine..but still.
9:57-- I really would have been fine if I went, say, a month or so without packing, but here we are.
Sunday
1:54-- There are eleven laptops set up on the table in the basement of Ferrin Hall, our new spot. Rain's comin' down pretty hard again. Played through a few games of League of Legends after some rousing CatchPhrase, and still goin' strong. Off to retrieve the PizzaRolls in our freezer across the way.
2:21-- Tom drank "Sprite" from a bottle with a red cap originally on it. I don't know what black magic spawned such a substance, but I'm predicting some sort of ailment.
12:19-- Windy, dark, rainy, and League of Legends-y. We're going to start a 5v5 Ferrin v Rider game pretty soon.
12:20-- Quote of the morning so far:
Mike: "Can we turn the lights on so it's not so gloomy?"
Max: "But then it's less like a gamer cave."
So this is either going to be a gripping, Cloverfield-like first person perspective on the worst natural disaster Gordon has ever seen, or a chronicling of 20 dudes who stocked up on junk food, being in a basement, and eating the junk food.
Saturday
5:30-- (T-minus 16.5 hours until lockdown) Target run to pick up some food for tomorrow. Luckily they hadn't raised Easy Mac prices tenfold in anticipation of the storm. Also purchased a scooter. As in, a razor scooter. Apparently those are socially acceptable here, and since there's real pavement here, they work.
7:30-- (T-minus 14.5) Test out scooter on way to dining hall. It is awesome. My seven minute trip from the dorm to the dining hall is now a meager 180 seconds.
8:20-- Packing time. To take, or not to take my entire nerf selection. Better safe than sorry.
9:42-- Still packing. Things are getting somewhat serious, actually-- the RA is planning to bump the evacuation time from tomorrow at 9 am to tonight at midnight.
9:56-- Now avoiding the news. Pictures and "deadly storm" headlines really can do no good for me at this point. It'll probably be fine..but still.
9:57-- I really would have been fine if I went, say, a month or so without packing, but here we are.
Sunday
1:54-- There are eleven laptops set up on the table in the basement of Ferrin Hall, our new spot. Rain's comin' down pretty hard again. Played through a few games of League of Legends after some rousing CatchPhrase, and still goin' strong. Off to retrieve the PizzaRolls in our freezer across the way.
2:21-- Tom drank "Sprite" from a bottle with a red cap originally on it. I don't know what black magic spawned such a substance, but I'm predicting some sort of ailment.
12:19-- Windy, dark, rainy, and League of Legends-y. We're going to start a 5v5 Ferrin v Rider game pretty soon.
12:20-- Quote of the morning so far:
Mike: "Can we turn the lights on so it's not so gloomy?"
Max: "But then it's less like a gamer cave."
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
I Love College
I never thought I could possibly be this excited about school. Orientation at Gordon was, how you say, freaking awesome. I tried to organize the intensity and incredible experiences, but I'm really tired and classes start tomorrow so I'm just gonna spitball it a bit. Bear with me.
Academic day was one of the best. That's the one about classes. My schedule is spectacular. I never have any classes until 10:25, my Friday class ends at noon, and I have a three-hour creative writing block ever Monday night. My advisor, an English professor, did voice work for the Tribes and Thief video game series.
Yesterday, I walked outside and was almost overcome by the beauty of the weather. I actually just stood there for something like three minutes, beaming.
The Dean brought a live lobster on stage with him.
There's a band, and the director seems like the nicest guy ever. I got into the men's choir, as well as a band everyone gets into.
Heck, even my textbooks were a joy to purchase; Dad was expecting 400 bucks and it came in at about half that. And they were playing Iron Man on a TV for the line. Not Fireproof, Iron Man.
At DA, I eventually got numb to the reaction that no one knows any references I make or shows I watch. Here, people have quoted teen girl squad, shouted internet memes, and when I called dibs on a Scott Pilgrim poster everyone got jealous because they know what that is.
Although the dorm building I'm living in is not the best, and a hike from the center of campus, the guys in it are fantastic. Half the place plays League of Legends, the RA has a SNES and Atari, and it took about two hours for someone to take out a DS and show us a mighty impressive Pokedex. One senior reminisced about Nerf battles and Brawl tournaments of yesteryear. I've found my people.
That's the real kicker. I told someone I knew running the orientation over facebook that they've been some of my favorite days ever, and that was not hyperbole. I love my class so far. I know that will change eventually, of course; people are still in the "everyone's my best friend stage." But knowing that I've already met a vast number of incredibly interesting, diverse people-- more than I have in years combined-- and still have several hundred options for friends has been exhilarating.
And not to sound like "that guy," but there is a high number of very attractive girls in our class. One wore a transformers shirt yesterday. To sound like that guy-- booyah.
-Will
"God gives you grace, we give you visitation hours."
Academic day was one of the best. That's the one about classes. My schedule is spectacular. I never have any classes until 10:25, my Friday class ends at noon, and I have a three-hour creative writing block ever Monday night. My advisor, an English professor, did voice work for the Tribes and Thief video game series.
Yesterday, I walked outside and was almost overcome by the beauty of the weather. I actually just stood there for something like three minutes, beaming.
The Dean brought a live lobster on stage with him.
There's a band, and the director seems like the nicest guy ever. I got into the men's choir, as well as a band everyone gets into.
Heck, even my textbooks were a joy to purchase; Dad was expecting 400 bucks and it came in at about half that. And they were playing Iron Man on a TV for the line. Not Fireproof, Iron Man.
At DA, I eventually got numb to the reaction that no one knows any references I make or shows I watch. Here, people have quoted teen girl squad, shouted internet memes, and when I called dibs on a Scott Pilgrim poster everyone got jealous because they know what that is.
Although the dorm building I'm living in is not the best, and a hike from the center of campus, the guys in it are fantastic. Half the place plays League of Legends, the RA has a SNES and Atari, and it took about two hours for someone to take out a DS and show us a mighty impressive Pokedex. One senior reminisced about Nerf battles and Brawl tournaments of yesteryear. I've found my people.
That's the real kicker. I told someone I knew running the orientation over facebook that they've been some of my favorite days ever, and that was not hyperbole. I love my class so far. I know that will change eventually, of course; people are still in the "everyone's my best friend stage." But knowing that I've already met a vast number of incredibly interesting, diverse people-- more than I have in years combined-- and still have several hundred options for friends has been exhilarating.
And not to sound like "that guy," but there is a high number of very attractive girls in our class. One wore a transformers shirt yesterday. To sound like that guy-- booyah.
-Will
"God gives you grace, we give you visitation hours."
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Reelin' in the Months
They say first impressions are of the utmost importance, but I would argue that last impressions are even more vital to an opinion.
If I were to sum up my last few months in Africa in a sentence, as I often have done in my head, it would be this: My final encounters soured the vast majority of the few things I enjoyed about Dakar, making me increasingly contented to leave.
I looked forward to this summer. And summer I have.Even though it felt shorter than any I can remember, the highlight reel is a long one.
I went to the midnight release of Harry Potter 7:2 and... Cowboys and Aliens. I met Canadian friends from Africa at the Wrentham Outlets. I watched a minivan run a race course in Maine. I went to Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast in Chicago. I went on a grueling, freezing three-day hike with my brother and dad in New Hampshire. Saw an incredible yo-yoer in Boston. Saw a Red Sox game. Started six books, and finished two. Went to my middle school's graduation. Watched the worst movie of all time, Troll 2. Was immensely surprised by the excellent quality of Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Had a burger at a Mexican restaurant for the 4th year in a row with Pastor Mike. Played 36 holes of mini-golf. Played innumerable hours of Halo. Ordered three bacon pizzas at midnight, and tried to pay with Monopoly money. Had only pizza for food on two separate days. Spent an entire day recording two songs with my new band, The Purple Drankers (http://www.youtube.com/user/ThePurpleDrankers?feature=mhee). Drove 3200 miles, or, the distance from our house to the Pacific Ocean, in one road trip of several, which largely explains the amount of State names in this paragraph.
I had a busy summer.
And tomorrow (today) I'm going to college. I have no concept of this. I'm psyched to move in, get my posters up, meet my roommate, etc. but in my head that's months, not hours, away. My gosh I love commas. It's bizarre to think that I'm going to move out of the house in about seven hours. Isn't that what adults do?
Well, I guess I'm going to college now.
See you on the other side.
-Will
"And if I don't see you again; good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight."
If I were to sum up my last few months in Africa in a sentence, as I often have done in my head, it would be this: My final encounters soured the vast majority of the few things I enjoyed about Dakar, making me increasingly contented to leave.
I looked forward to this summer. And summer I have.Even though it felt shorter than any I can remember, the highlight reel is a long one.
I went to the midnight release of Harry Potter 7:2 and... Cowboys and Aliens. I met Canadian friends from Africa at the Wrentham Outlets. I watched a minivan run a race course in Maine. I went to Broadway production of Beauty and the Beast in Chicago. I went on a grueling, freezing three-day hike with my brother and dad in New Hampshire. Saw an incredible yo-yoer in Boston. Saw a Red Sox game. Started six books, and finished two. Went to my middle school's graduation. Watched the worst movie of all time, Troll 2. Was immensely surprised by the excellent quality of Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Had a burger at a Mexican restaurant for the 4th year in a row with Pastor Mike. Played 36 holes of mini-golf. Played innumerable hours of Halo. Ordered three bacon pizzas at midnight, and tried to pay with Monopoly money. Had only pizza for food on two separate days. Spent an entire day recording two songs with my new band, The Purple Drankers (http://www.youtube.com/user/ThePurpleDrankers?feature=mhee). Drove 3200 miles, or, the distance from our house to the Pacific Ocean, in one road trip of several, which largely explains the amount of State names in this paragraph.
I had a busy summer.
And tomorrow (today) I'm going to college. I have no concept of this. I'm psyched to move in, get my posters up, meet my roommate, etc. but in my head that's months, not hours, away. My gosh I love commas. It's bizarre to think that I'm going to move out of the house in about seven hours. Isn't that what adults do?
Well, I guess I'm going to college now.
See you on the other side.
-Will
"And if I don't see you again; good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight."
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Frikin' Lazers
I suppose that at this point, some would consider me too old for lazer tag, that as I'm going to college, I should move past novelty shooting games. But that's what they said when I trick or treated at 15, too, and I had a really good haul that year. Also I plan to start a Nerf club at college.
Luckily for me, many of my good friends are with me on this, which is how I found myself at a midnight to 7 a.m. lazer tag session last night in Fall River, Massachusetts.
Fall River is widely known as one of the sketchiest towns in MA; as my friend Jonny suggested, second only to Dorchester. Some of it's city planning was bizarre enough to remind me of Africa. It's the kind of place where, hypothetically, if a group of buddies went and one of them went to Walgreens to pick up a disposable camera unnanounced, the others would be significantly upset with him. They thought I was killed or something.
The lazer tag facility is in an old mill, behind a McDonald's, marked by absolutely zero signage. Neither the parking lot or the building show any indication of housing a lazer tag arena. You can only find out about it if you know the right people. It's kind of a thrill, actually knowing that you've stumbled upon and now have connections with the lazer tag underground. But despite its meager exterior, and to a lesser extent its interior, it's know as the lazer tag place, enough so to make us trek an hour, passing three other options, to get to.
With the group deal, I was pretty thrilled that 35 bucks would get me unlimited lazer tag and arcade games for seven hours, but when I found out that also included pizza, three drinks and Dunkin Donuts donuts, I actually felt bad. At that point it seemed like theft.
It was a pretty fantastic time. It was suggested that the head employee may have been under some influences, as they say, but he seemed like a really nice guy. It's an involved arena, too, with two stories of ample space (although only the n00bs use the first floor), and it kept us going for a good seven hours of early mornin' lazerin'.
Major props to Mack and Dave for overcoming insane heat, transportation for 30 people, and a couple of ditching jerks to throw a wicked awesome party.
And for the record, I'm not being paid for each time I say lazer tag.
-Will
"Why is my thumb shaking?" --Bond, at 5 a.m.
Luckily for me, many of my good friends are with me on this, which is how I found myself at a midnight to 7 a.m. lazer tag session last night in Fall River, Massachusetts.
Fall River is widely known as one of the sketchiest towns in MA; as my friend Jonny suggested, second only to Dorchester. Some of it's city planning was bizarre enough to remind me of Africa. It's the kind of place where, hypothetically, if a group of buddies went and one of them went to Walgreens to pick up a disposable camera unnanounced, the others would be significantly upset with him. They thought I was killed or something.
The lazer tag facility is in an old mill, behind a McDonald's, marked by absolutely zero signage. Neither the parking lot or the building show any indication of housing a lazer tag arena. You can only find out about it if you know the right people. It's kind of a thrill, actually knowing that you've stumbled upon and now have connections with the lazer tag underground. But despite its meager exterior, and to a lesser extent its interior, it's know as the lazer tag place, enough so to make us trek an hour, passing three other options, to get to.
With the group deal, I was pretty thrilled that 35 bucks would get me unlimited lazer tag and arcade games for seven hours, but when I found out that also included pizza, three drinks and Dunkin Donuts donuts, I actually felt bad. At that point it seemed like theft.
It was a pretty fantastic time. It was suggested that the head employee may have been under some influences, as they say, but he seemed like a really nice guy. It's an involved arena, too, with two stories of ample space (although only the n00bs use the first floor), and it kept us going for a good seven hours of early mornin' lazerin'.
Major props to Mack and Dave for overcoming insane heat, transportation for 30 people, and a couple of ditching jerks to throw a wicked awesome party.
And for the record, I'm not being paid for each time I say lazer tag.
-Will
"Why is my thumb shaking?" --Bond, at 5 a.m.
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Boy Who Stayed Awake
I'm sitting right now in a sea of fandom, at the last midnight launch of a Harry Potter movie in the foreseeable future, 15 minutes before "it all ends." Going to the midnight launch of anything has to be one of the most unique experiences in life. No where else do I know can you find such a raw, unadulterated sea of obssession as the earliest possible moment to watch a movie.
Someone just screamed "Harry Potter! Woo!" and got a significant response from the crowd. There's a 40-year old man with a fake beard and a cloak sitting across from me. There were two girls dressed up as snitches outside, complete with "I open at the close" shirts. Even the workers have orange-red and silver-green scarves. I had no idea this many Hogwarts house ties were even in existence. The people without wands are the losers.
And although I somewhat disdain this movie for starting the trend of splitting a movie into two 10+ dollar tickets, I'm sad it's the last, really. Even the fact that this is the last time to get Potter merch without having to back-order it has me feeling a little nostalgic. It's the end of an era, or at least the beginning of the end of it. The movies have been decent, but man those books are gold. Since others have written much better and more meaningful tributes than I, I'll keep it short and leave you with my favorite quote of the movie, bar "NOT MY DAUGHTER...!" In the wise words of Albus Dumbledore:
"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." --Albus Dumbledore
-Will
Someone just screamed "Harry Potter! Woo!" and got a significant response from the crowd. There's a 40-year old man with a fake beard and a cloak sitting across from me. There were two girls dressed up as snitches outside, complete with "I open at the close" shirts. Even the workers have orange-red and silver-green scarves. I had no idea this many Hogwarts house ties were even in existence. The people without wands are the losers.
And although I somewhat disdain this movie for starting the trend of splitting a movie into two 10+ dollar tickets, I'm sad it's the last, really. Even the fact that this is the last time to get Potter merch without having to back-order it has me feeling a little nostalgic. It's the end of an era, or at least the beginning of the end of it. The movies have been decent, but man those books are gold. Since others have written much better and more meaningful tributes than I, I'll keep it short and leave you with my favorite quote of the movie, bar "NOT MY DAUGHTER...!" In the wise words of Albus Dumbledore:
"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." --Albus Dumbledore
-Will
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Land of the Free
Well, it's technically July 5th, but I'm still feeling very patriotic. America rocks. Since we got here a few weeks ago, I've been able to catch up with friends, I've eaten a ridiculous amount of fast food, and the feeling that I've probably met every white person I see is finally wearing off. I thought that, since I've been blessed enough to be here for the past few summers and I'm used to being blown away by Walmart and having power again, that I'd share some of the less obvious impressions of the motherland.
#1
Milk
I drink milk as if it's the active antidote to some sort of poison a malicious, pet-stroking super-villain shot me up with a few days ago. I have a theory that that's the reason I have never broken a bone. Also because I am not active.
#2
Smells
Let me put it this way-- In America, everything smells good to a certain extent, all the time, and occasionally there's a skunk or something and it smells terrible. In Africa, the good smell is the abnormal smell.
#3
Netflix
I know I'm several years late to this party, but Netflix is officially the best thing since sliced bread. It has made my laptop and Xbox 360 into LOST machines, and I'm enjoying every second of it. Also, I'm only in Season 2, so no spoilers.
#4
Postal Service
Things ship fast. Crazy fast. When we ordered Halo: Reach, it arrived in Mass. on September 14th, a few weeks after we pre-ordered it, and we finally got it on October 1st, half a month later. That was a record turn-around-- mostly it's a much longer process. I ordered a few games a couple weeks ago and they were on the doorstep (in the mailbox) within 5 days.
#5
Cops
I enjoy seeing cop cars here, knowing that they almost definitely do not contain a corrupt Senegalese jerk. I hate Senegalese cops.
#7
Stress
There's no overarching sense of danger in every moment of life. That sounds several tads over-dramatic, I know, but it's one of the biggest differences in the two countries. Senegal's not a dangerous country (or wasn't when I left), but the whole feel is different. A trip to downtown Dakar is a seek, strike and destroy mission at best, but there are whole parks in Boston just waiting to be napped in. People go there for fun, not because they have to.
-Will
"How could I possible be expected to tolerate school on a day like today?"
#1
Milk
I drink milk as if it's the active antidote to some sort of poison a malicious, pet-stroking super-villain shot me up with a few days ago. I have a theory that that's the reason I have never broken a bone. Also because I am not active.
#2
Smells
Let me put it this way-- In America, everything smells good to a certain extent, all the time, and occasionally there's a skunk or something and it smells terrible. In Africa, the good smell is the abnormal smell.
#3
Netflix
I know I'm several years late to this party, but Netflix is officially the best thing since sliced bread. It has made my laptop and Xbox 360 into LOST machines, and I'm enjoying every second of it. Also, I'm only in Season 2, so no spoilers.
#4
Postal Service
Things ship fast. Crazy fast. When we ordered Halo: Reach, it arrived in Mass. on September 14th, a few weeks after we pre-ordered it, and we finally got it on October 1st, half a month later. That was a record turn-around-- mostly it's a much longer process. I ordered a few games a couple weeks ago and they were on the doorstep (in the mailbox) within 5 days.
#5
Cops
I enjoy seeing cop cars here, knowing that they almost definitely do not contain a corrupt Senegalese jerk. I hate Senegalese cops.
#7
Stress
There's no overarching sense of danger in every moment of life. That sounds several tads over-dramatic, I know, but it's one of the biggest differences in the two countries. Senegal's not a dangerous country (or wasn't when I left), but the whole feel is different. A trip to downtown Dakar is a seek, strike and destroy mission at best, but there are whole parks in Boston just waiting to be napped in. People go there for fun, not because they have to.
-Will
"How could I possible be expected to tolerate school on a day like today?"
Sunday, May 22, 2011
I Get By...
Since I came to DA, one of its many touts was that you could make good friends easily there. Students and alumni alike told horror stories along the lines of "it took me six months to even talk long with anybody" or "I connected with someone and then they blew me off the next day," begrudging the States (can you recognize a theme here?) for its shallow relationships. Yet three years into and 99% done with my stay in Dakar, I can honestly say that this, DA's proudest pander, was not at all the case for me.
I have friends, sure, but no one I'd call a best friend. I am completely different from the guy I hang out with the most, and we frequently wonder how we're friends at all, and then remember that we get on each other's nerves all the time. But even more so in the past few months, I've been kind of upset upon realizing how few meaningful friendships I've made since coming here.
Maybe it's just the After AP/Before Grad personas that many in my class have developed. One of my friends has pretty much gone insane, and he will be the first to tell you that. He has gone from a very responsible Student Body President and Sound Guy to a complete goofball, no longer applying himself academically and being crazy all the time. His math teacher actually asked his dorm parents about his well-being. It's not inherently a bad thing-- the guy had a busy year and needs a break, and I've already stated my opinion on Academic Senioritis-- but it definitely shows one end of the spectrum that my class now lays all over.
I was even further enlightened to this point last night when I caught up with a very good friend over Facebook and eventually Skype. While we used to be super close, I'll admit we haven't really talked in about a year-- even last summer, I only got to see her for a meager few minutes. So I was both thrilled and alarmed to discover how easy it was to talk again. In a lot of ways, it's as if we left 8th grade yesterday. It was an absolute pleasure reconnecting with her.
We had similar feelings towards several of our classmates, she actually answered the question "How's it going?" with more than one syllable, and I didn't have to draw out meaningful conversation like poison from a wound. And it was great to talk to someone who doesn't hate cats. It was amazing, but I wasn't used to it.
I think it's just for the same reason that DA alumni have trouble making friends in the States. I can't connect with people here because they aren't really American just like they can't connect with people in America because they aren't really African. I really didn't think the whole MK thing would be that schismatic of a trait, but here we are, three years later, and I still connect way better with my middle school friends than with the people I've been around for most of high school.
I guess the safest conclusion that can be drawn from this is that my middle school friends are freaking amazing. Cheers, Charter.
-Will
"What do I do when my love is away?
-Does it worry you to be alone?
How do I feel by the end of the day?
-Are you sad because you're on your own?"
I have friends, sure, but no one I'd call a best friend. I am completely different from the guy I hang out with the most, and we frequently wonder how we're friends at all, and then remember that we get on each other's nerves all the time. But even more so in the past few months, I've been kind of upset upon realizing how few meaningful friendships I've made since coming here.
Maybe it's just the After AP/Before Grad personas that many in my class have developed. One of my friends has pretty much gone insane, and he will be the first to tell you that. He has gone from a very responsible Student Body President and Sound Guy to a complete goofball, no longer applying himself academically and being crazy all the time. His math teacher actually asked his dorm parents about his well-being. It's not inherently a bad thing-- the guy had a busy year and needs a break, and I've already stated my opinion on Academic Senioritis-- but it definitely shows one end of the spectrum that my class now lays all over.
I was even further enlightened to this point last night when I caught up with a very good friend over Facebook and eventually Skype. While we used to be super close, I'll admit we haven't really talked in about a year-- even last summer, I only got to see her for a meager few minutes. So I was both thrilled and alarmed to discover how easy it was to talk again. In a lot of ways, it's as if we left 8th grade yesterday. It was an absolute pleasure reconnecting with her.
We had similar feelings towards several of our classmates, she actually answered the question "How's it going?" with more than one syllable, and I didn't have to draw out meaningful conversation like poison from a wound. And it was great to talk to someone who doesn't hate cats. It was amazing, but I wasn't used to it.
I think it's just for the same reason that DA alumni have trouble making friends in the States. I can't connect with people here because they aren't really American just like they can't connect with people in America because they aren't really African. I really didn't think the whole MK thing would be that schismatic of a trait, but here we are, three years later, and I still connect way better with my middle school friends than with the people I've been around for most of high school.
I guess the safest conclusion that can be drawn from this is that my middle school friends are freaking amazing. Cheers, Charter.
-Will
"What do I do when my love is away?
-Does it worry you to be alone?
How do I feel by the end of the day?
-Are you sad because you're on your own?"
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Beginning of the End of the Beginning of the Rest of our Lives
In the past few weeks, academically at least, I have felt a significant onset of Senioritis.
Never during the year was school the worst part of my day-- even AP Lit, where I got by far the most homework, has run the gamut between entertaining to downright uproarious. Some times my day was only half over when school finished, and as the bell rang I dreaded the homework that would keep me up until the fairly wee hours of the morning. Now, though, it's becoming a lazy, homework-less blast.
Today's gallivant took place in Physics class. Since our teacher is the man, he gave us time to work on homework due at the end of class-- which I had all but completed. The last question was difficult, and I knew I had the others right. So I could choose one of two options: either finish Physics and perhaps diligently get ahead on AP World reading, or goof off the entire class. I resolved to let Senioritis wash over me.
I have rarely felt more like Jim Halpert.
One of the students, comically frustrated at the order in which our teacher, who we call The Bard Force, was dressing questions, wrote a priority list of students on the board. I was sauntering about the room when I was asked to write my friend Matt's name on the list. I decided to write "Matthew III." It was at this point in time the appointment schedule became much more than the appointment schedule it was intended to be.
Pretty soon, "Matthew III" became "Matthew III, son of Stephen, slayer of Ithgul, terror the north." My bizarrely-named artist friend Annieo became "Annieo, grand-daughter of the great Gertudyo, second cousin of the mighty Santa Claus, painter of triumphant landscapes and wielder of the Brush of Glory. My sign-language fluent, fencing acting buddy Leticia became "Leticia, lady of many faces, speaker of the hands, descendant of the famous Empress Wu, wielder of Glamdel, once held by Inigo the Avenger." This is what I did during Physics class.
The right half of the white board (With Leticia, lady of many faces writing down the histories)
Now, several hours removed from the situation, it's it's a small deal. It's hardly even a deal of any size. It was just so entertaining at the time. I don't know why I listened to anyone saying Senioritis is a bad thing.
You know that feeling of the last few days before summer, where there's not much homework because of exams and no one really cares anymore? It's like that except for a month. Hopefully there are no repercussions.
-Will
"You're a reject of society." -Tanner
"I'm a reject of a Utopian society." -Taylor
Never during the year was school the worst part of my day-- even AP Lit, where I got by far the most homework, has run the gamut between entertaining to downright uproarious. Some times my day was only half over when school finished, and as the bell rang I dreaded the homework that would keep me up until the fairly wee hours of the morning. Now, though, it's becoming a lazy, homework-less blast.
Today's gallivant took place in Physics class. Since our teacher is the man, he gave us time to work on homework due at the end of class-- which I had all but completed. The last question was difficult, and I knew I had the others right. So I could choose one of two options: either finish Physics and perhaps diligently get ahead on AP World reading, or goof off the entire class. I resolved to let Senioritis wash over me.
I have rarely felt more like Jim Halpert.
One of the students, comically frustrated at the order in which our teacher, who we call The Bard Force, was dressing questions, wrote a priority list of students on the board. I was sauntering about the room when I was asked to write my friend Matt's name on the list. I decided to write "Matthew III." It was at this point in time the appointment schedule became much more than the appointment schedule it was intended to be.
Pretty soon, "Matthew III" became "Matthew III, son of Stephen, slayer of Ithgul, terror the north." My bizarrely-named artist friend Annieo became "Annieo, grand-daughter of the great Gertudyo, second cousin of the mighty Santa Claus, painter of triumphant landscapes and wielder of the Brush of Glory. My sign-language fluent, fencing acting buddy Leticia became "Leticia, lady of many faces, speaker of the hands, descendant of the famous Empress Wu, wielder of Glamdel, once held by Inigo the Avenger." This is what I did during Physics class.
The right half of the white board (With Leticia, lady of many faces writing down the histories)
And rhe left half
Now, several hours removed from the situation, it's it's a small deal. It's hardly even a deal of any size. It was just so entertaining at the time. I don't know why I listened to anyone saying Senioritis is a bad thing.
You know that feeling of the last few days before summer, where there's not much homework because of exams and no one really cares anymore? It's like that except for a month. Hopefully there are no repercussions.
-Will
"You're a reject of society." -Tanner
"I'm a reject of a Utopian society." -Taylor
Monday, March 7, 2011
Fear the Manbag
A long time ago, in a little mom and pop store called Walmart, I bought an unassuming, black and red messenger bag from the on sale school supply aisle in preparation to go to Quebec High School (I had deemed my L.L. Bean backpack's wheels and carting handle a bit too unsightly for high school). I was under the impression that messenger bags were the bees knees.
I was correct. I now know from experience that man bags are, in fact, the bees knees.
Over times, this majestic murse not only earned a spot slung over my shoulder, but metamorphosed in both appearance and practicality. I soon added Jack Skellington, Quebec Rugby, 1up, and Watchmen patches to the outer flap and a few pins to the strap. And almost immediately, Mr. Manbag went from a school supply carrier to an all-around awesome satchel, carrying on a regular basis most of my life and occasionally moonlighting as a much-too-large "personal item" on flights to America.
The bag, at optimum capacity and full usefulness, carries my planner, two notebooks, and a script, with various loose pieces of paper. Just ask anyone who spoke to me from mid-December to January 12th how important to me my planner is-- those were the dark days that it was lost. Any major event and homework assignment is inscribed in those pages-- with a planner and I might be described as slightly forgetful, without one I become a younger but just as frayed man-bag toting version of the abhorrent Uncle Billy from "It's a Wonderful Life."
Above, left: Uncle Billy, or: The guy who ruins everythingLast but not least are my notebooks. On is for work, stuffed with menus, to-do lists, and journalism articles, the other is for everything else, from quotes to blogs to ramblings to letters to whatever else. I'm not going to mince words. It's a journal. It is not, however, a diary. Those are for girls.
But like any good item of sentimental value, the sideways backpack is more than just the sum of its parts. This bag has been with me in Quebec, Africa, the States-- there and back and there and back again. I love it like I would a pair of good old shoes that have traveled with me forever , except no one's forcing me to throw it away, and I certainly hope I never grow too wide for that giant strap. Few material items have that kind of longevity coupled with such thorough use. You just have to respect it.
Anyway, I don't know what will become of my manly purse next year, other than it's definitely coming with me to college. My hope is that develops a blanky-to-Linus-esque connection to me. I just don't know what kind of sport-coat a messenger bag would make.
-Will
"Plus, it's not a man-purse, it's called a satchel. Indiana Jones wears one."
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Senior Cafe: Two Parts Stress, Three parts Awesome
One again, the days start getting longer, the power cuts continue, and the weak-sauce winter comes to a close. Actually, the power cuts were supposed to quit in November, but the calendar also clued me into the event this weekend.
Senior Cafe.
For those who have understandably forgotten my description last year, it's a big talent show fundraiser the Seniors put on. Previous Hall of Fame acts include lip synching to "Numa Numa," laying down some phat beats with the McDonalds rap, and of course air banding "More Than a Feeling." The lead air guitarist was kickin'.
This year, though, "the Seniors" is us. More specifically, the President is me. So things were a little more complicated than last year's single costume change from air bander to awkward Swedish singer.
It was a crazy week for sure, making tiki torches from scratch, moving couches for coffeehouse seating, collecting cakes, etc, but it actually went pretty well. And the night was a blast-- I figure if the people running it have fun something must be going right.
My Vice President also accidentally swallowed some gas when siphoning from one generator to another (the power cut). Good thing MKs know to drink milk immediately because I still have a very loose grasp on the concept of acids and bases. I have a feeling it's really simple. So Tanner, VP, gets the night's MVP award. I won't go into how much he and my English teacher helped out, but they did. A ton. Thanks guys.
Of course, Past Will though it was a great idea to also be in three acts, because just running it is too simple. I have to give him some credit, though-- that number was originally six. My favorite though, beating out a barbershop quartet singing "That's What Friends Are For" from The Jungle Book and Chamber Choir singing "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel, was my friend Jear Bear and I's cover of "Tribute" by Tenacious D.
In a lot of ways, it was a culmination of my very short and trivial musical career. Who knows? Someday it may blossom into a full-fledged, international Jack Black cover band. I can only dream.
This was, not most but very importantly, our last fundraiser as a class. A lot has changed from the "dis-unified" sophomore class from two years ago. I, honestly, love our class, even though we have a human excuse and a few slackers in it. It's gonna be weird not having them all in one place.
Getting everyone together for reunions is hard.
-Will
"This is the greatest and best song in the world."
Senior Cafe.
For those who have understandably forgotten my description last year, it's a big talent show fundraiser the Seniors put on. Previous Hall of Fame acts include lip synching to "Numa Numa," laying down some phat beats with the McDonalds rap, and of course air banding "More Than a Feeling." The lead air guitarist was kickin'.
This year, though, "the Seniors" is us. More specifically, the President is me. So things were a little more complicated than last year's single costume change from air bander to awkward Swedish singer.
It was a crazy week for sure, making tiki torches from scratch, moving couches for coffeehouse seating, collecting cakes, etc, but it actually went pretty well. And the night was a blast-- I figure if the people running it have fun something must be going right.
My Vice President also accidentally swallowed some gas when siphoning from one generator to another (the power cut). Good thing MKs know to drink milk immediately because I still have a very loose grasp on the concept of acids and bases. I have a feeling it's really simple. So Tanner, VP, gets the night's MVP award. I won't go into how much he and my English teacher helped out, but they did. A ton. Thanks guys.
Of course, Past Will though it was a great idea to also be in three acts, because just running it is too simple. I have to give him some credit, though-- that number was originally six. My favorite though, beating out a barbershop quartet singing "That's What Friends Are For" from The Jungle Book and Chamber Choir singing "The Longest Time" by Billy Joel, was my friend Jear Bear and I's cover of "Tribute" by Tenacious D.
In a lot of ways, it was a culmination of my very short and trivial musical career. Who knows? Someday it may blossom into a full-fledged, international Jack Black cover band. I can only dream.
This was, not most but very importantly, our last fundraiser as a class. A lot has changed from the "dis-unified" sophomore class from two years ago. I, honestly, love our class, even though we have a human excuse and a few slackers in it. It's gonna be weird not having them all in one place.
Getting everyone together for reunions is hard.
-Will
"This is the greatest and best song in the world."
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Insert Random Acronym Here
Time for another DA culture lesson.
WAIST (West African Invitational Softball Tournament) is an annual, 3-day-long event so thoroughly American that they actually have a giant red white and blue tent. I bet you'd be hard pressed to find a massive flag-tent in most states.
I've had very varying experiences in the past few years. When I first got here, I wasn't on a team, and the weekend was a big breath of fresh, American, country music, swearing air. For the record, I hate country music, but come on, it's softball. Peace corps teams make up the majority of the social bracket. These are people who live out in the boonies don't have to worry about power cuts because they don't have any to begin with. They're the ones who are for real in mud huts. So, understandably, the one weekend in six months that they get not only free, but to spend with other Americans serving all over this side of the continent, gets a little crazy.
Long story short, it's hard to lose to them after about 11:00 am, because by that time most of them are pretty hammered. They're what made and make WAIST for me, though-- not only are they hilarious, but speaking to American strangers in English is a splendid experience if you're used to stumbling through basic greetings in French. The fact that the concession stands had copious amounts of American candy didn't hurt either.
The last year, softball ruined it for me. The way it used to go is that if two DA teams did well enough to play on Monday, no one had school this year our awesome director just said no school automatically-- he's the man). Since I was on a team, and most other DA teams were clearly not going to be able to hold up the "do well" end of the bargain, our team had a lot of pressure to win. Which is really not the point of the weekend at all. Also Dad told me I was in trouble on Saturday morning and didn't tell me what it was about until Monday night. And then it wasn't actually a huge deal. It just hung over my head for a few days.
2011 lacked the wow factor of the first time but was overall more fun. Even though we didn't play any peace corps teams until Monday (I heard they asked to not play us 'cause we weren't fun to play--see above paragraph) I played on a thrown together nonsense team that played for the heck of it. This is WAIST at its finest. And we actually won the social league, so we got to take home an awkwardly proportioned African trophy as well.
And with that taste of America, we're in the home stretch for the real deal.
-Will
"A place where the beer flows like wine, and beautiful women flock like the salmon of Capistrano."
WAIST (West African Invitational Softball Tournament) is an annual, 3-day-long event so thoroughly American that they actually have a giant red white and blue tent. I bet you'd be hard pressed to find a massive flag-tent in most states.
I've had very varying experiences in the past few years. When I first got here, I wasn't on a team, and the weekend was a big breath of fresh, American, country music, swearing air. For the record, I hate country music, but come on, it's softball. Peace corps teams make up the majority of the social bracket. These are people who live out in the boonies don't have to worry about power cuts because they don't have any to begin with. They're the ones who are for real in mud huts. So, understandably, the one weekend in six months that they get not only free, but to spend with other Americans serving all over this side of the continent, gets a little crazy.
Long story short, it's hard to lose to them after about 11:00 am, because by that time most of them are pretty hammered. They're what made and make WAIST for me, though-- not only are they hilarious, but speaking to American strangers in English is a splendid experience if you're used to stumbling through basic greetings in French. The fact that the concession stands had copious amounts of American candy didn't hurt either.
The last year, softball ruined it for me. The way it used to go is that if two DA teams did well enough to play on Monday, no one had school this year our awesome director just said no school automatically-- he's the man). Since I was on a team, and most other DA teams were clearly not going to be able to hold up the "do well" end of the bargain, our team had a lot of pressure to win. Which is really not the point of the weekend at all. Also Dad told me I was in trouble on Saturday morning and didn't tell me what it was about until Monday night. And then it wasn't actually a huge deal. It just hung over my head for a few days.
2011 lacked the wow factor of the first time but was overall more fun. Even though we didn't play any peace corps teams until Monday (I heard they asked to not play us 'cause we weren't fun to play--see above paragraph) I played on a thrown together nonsense team that played for the heck of it. This is WAIST at its finest. And we actually won the social league, so we got to take home an awkwardly proportioned African trophy as well.
And with that taste of America, we're in the home stretch for the real deal.
-Will
"A place where the beer flows like wine, and beautiful women flock like the salmon of Capistrano."
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
I Like to Move It- Part 2
I posted part one about two years ago. And you thought I forgot about part two.
So today I started packing for college. That's a weird thing to think about, isn't it?
And, though moving day is still a good six months away, since senior year so far has been very lacking in the free time department and the last month of it is a storm of grad parties, receptions, and banquets, I figured I might get some work done now.
Two things struck me as I've started to sort and pack. The first was how much complete junk I managed to sneak over to Africa with me. The idea was that we all purge a bit but that really didn't happen with me. I don't really know what I thought I was going to do with a bag full of scrap booking supplies, a chunk of welcome mat from my old band director's platform, or an empty box for a plastic guitar, but they all made the trip and none of 'em are baking it back.
The second realization was that it was difficult. I'm not going to try and start the "home" argument/discussion/pontification just yet, but there's no denying that ripping my beloved posters off the walls for the nth time felt more meaningful than I expected. I do love our house, and my room is pretty awesome even after JD made it smell like cat, but a small part of me still does and maybe always will consider it a pit stop between two American checkpoints. That part was silent when I stood in yet another room that has had my posters put up and taken down in.
I guess I'm not really sure what I expected was going to happen at the end of this year. I suppose I've thought of it as just another summer trip back to the States in some ways-- pack up some clothes and leave most of my stuff behind. But it doesn't really work like that.
This may be harder than I expected.
-Will
"Echoes and silence, patience and grace. All of these moments I'll never replace."
So today I started packing for college. That's a weird thing to think about, isn't it?
And, though moving day is still a good six months away, since senior year so far has been very lacking in the free time department and the last month of it is a storm of grad parties, receptions, and banquets, I figured I might get some work done now.
Two things struck me as I've started to sort and pack. The first was how much complete junk I managed to sneak over to Africa with me. The idea was that we all purge a bit but that really didn't happen with me. I don't really know what I thought I was going to do with a bag full of scrap booking supplies, a chunk of welcome mat from my old band director's platform, or an empty box for a plastic guitar, but they all made the trip and none of 'em are baking it back.
The second realization was that it was difficult. I'm not going to try and start the "home" argument/discussion/pontification just yet, but there's no denying that ripping my beloved posters off the walls for the nth time felt more meaningful than I expected. I do love our house, and my room is pretty awesome even after JD made it smell like cat, but a small part of me still does and maybe always will consider it a pit stop between two American checkpoints. That part was silent when I stood in yet another room that has had my posters put up and taken down in.
I guess I'm not really sure what I expected was going to happen at the end of this year. I suppose I've thought of it as just another summer trip back to the States in some ways-- pack up some clothes and leave most of my stuff behind. But it doesn't really work like that.
This may be harder than I expected.
-Will
"Echoes and silence, patience and grace. All of these moments I'll never replace."
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