Mar
26
I wrote this over Spring Break, so excuse the time-lapse.
My family moved into our house six months before I was born, and I’m sitting in my bedroom with a huge and odd-proportioned east-facing window right now feeling Spring Break decrescendo. I snuggle into my Grandpa’s old chair I’ve covered with a woven blanket I bought when I went to a pow-wow with my best friend, Lacy (she’s Delaware/Potawatomie), last year. My burgeoning library is taking over my room in stacks, shelves, and piles (not to mention what has trickled to Norman over time). My sweet Sheltie, Sable, sleeps on her back outside my door and my Dad is snoring over some movie. I made vegetable stew for dinner with potatoes, mushrooms, carrots, peas, cannellini beans, lots of garlic, and a rich herby tomato broth. (Cooking is the one nonperson thing I miss while at school!) I love home.
Feb
23
Second finger, second fret. First, third, fourth finger, third fret. Sixth and fourth strings open, strum. Down, down, up, up, down, up. Repeat. First and second finger move back one string. C chord. D chord. E minor, D, C. Back to G. Down, down, up, up, down, up.
That’s me, trying to play “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” by Green Day on the guitar. I’m horrible. Or at least painfully slow. I’m about ready to say good riddance to this crap. Yet I can’t help but feel accomplished when I notice the calluses developing on my left fingers.
I took Beginning Guitar for a few reasons: one, I had a seventy-five minute gap in my afternoon schedule and I never do anything productive during between-class breaks. Two, my Dad has been playing guitar since 1966 and those beautiful, complex sounds remind me of sitting at his feet while he tunes. Three, I have this idea that I should do things that don’t come naturally.
Feb
4
“In a very real sense, people who have read good literature have lived more than people who cannot or will not read . . . it is not true that we have only one life to live; if we can read, we can live as many more lives and as many kinds of lives as we wish.” S. I. Hayakawa
I was one of those kids, especially when I was younger. I swear I was paying attention, that book in my lap just happened to be open while you were talking, Teacher. I love to read – and I don’t mean I love to plough through textbooks with abandon; I mean real reading.
Read more
Dec
4
I think my fever broke. That – or I’m just so generally warmed up from drinking tea that I can’t tell at the moment.
I never get sick. Like, I might get the sniffles for a couple days then it will bounce off my jolly green vegan immune system and back into the sparkling November air. Don’t worry, this isn’t even comparable to last semester’s finals week throat infection that knocked me out cold for a week.
Anyway, as a student activist born of hippie parents – I drink tea when I’m sick. Lots of it. And I love Yogi tea, not just because the tea itself is delicious (doesn’t really need sweetener at all), but because each tea bag has a little tag printed with a reassuring truism. Tonight’s second cup read “Uplift everybody and uplift yourself.”
Nov
16
This blog is dedicated to all my vegan, vegetarian, and ethics-conscious brethren out there. As you start planning your trip to OU or anticipate Sooner Saturday, keep this guide handy so you can stay well-fuelled for all the fun!
This is an uncensored, unapproved look at vegan options at OU – let’s begin.
Oct
22
I need, I need to sleep. It’s one o’clock in the morning and twenty four hours after I had bustled back into my cosy little dorm room, my mind is still on U2.
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- basking in it all
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- I wish I could’ve been in the loops!
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- Begins with Breathe
Oct
15
It was one of those April mornings where exhaust billowed around my day care’s outdated vans like semi-solid smoke that I got my first impression of what college would be like. An older boy, Jake, exploited my 3rdgrade naiveté and said, “You know, when you get college – if you make a C – they eat you in the cafeteria for lunch!”
With this revelation, a nine year old scholar was shaken to her size two boots (I was quite gullible, I admit). And from then on, the message that college professors would be cruel, merciless, and inexorable was propounded by nearly every teacher I encountered. This grim figure served as a foil to my middle and high school’s en loco parentis benevolence, guidance, and leniency.
Yeah, they were wrong.
Sep
14
I’m nearly speechless. It’s 6 PM on Sunday and I am two days ahead on my homework. Usually about this time I am frantically chugging down some enlightened individual’s voluminous chapters for Monday’s classes. You see, for two of my first classes of the week I have ten books to read over the course of the semester. This tends to decrease the time I spend doing really important things, like playing Restaurant City on facebook and snooping around the blogosphere.
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