Story time:

A few weeks ago, my roommate Ella and I were up late studying as usual, when I decided it was high time for meal number four. I stuck a bag of popcorn in the microwave and waited for a three second Legally Blonde in Downtown Greenvillepause between pops, then, after pulling out the bag, I ripped open with an Emeril-like “Bam,” expecting buttery perfection as usual. Much to my dismay, however, I found a smoking black clump of burnt kernels on top of my otherwise golden-delicious popcorn. So, with the intent of avoiding setting off the fire alarm, I ran out into the hall, waving the smoking bag in the air like a one of those mini 4^th of July flags. Alas, my attempt was futile, and a FUPO (Furman police) officer was in my room in a matter of minutes, shortly followed by the Duncan Chapel Fire Department (which I must commend for their speedy reaction time).

Lucky for me, the only punishment I’ve received is an official FUPO warning, along with several unnecessary snide comments from my peers concerning my cooking abilities. Unlike the fire alarm that went off at 4 AM the morning before the start of our first semester exams, our alarm only sounded in our room, so the only people we woke up were our neighbors across the hall.

A couple weekends ago, I went hiking up to Table Rock with my good friends Katie, Alexander, and Johnny. Katie, who’s an admissions ambassador, had to give a tour that morning, so we didn’t embark The One Mile Markon our journey until around 2 in the afternoon. By the time we got there, it was already 3:30, and the lady handing out the trail maps told us that the trail had closed at 1 to keep hikers from getting lost in the darkness. Well, we had driven an hour to make it all the way out there and we were not about to take the easy way out on one of those wimpy short trails, so we walked around the register without signing our names and took off practically running up the 3.25 mile, seemingly vertical climb. Katie led the way. I quickly found out that Katie has an incredible endurance for a former pageant girl half my size, and I almost stopped after the first half mile as a “safety precaution in case someone got lost or injured” (in other words, I was already past exhaustion and wanted to bail out).

Anyway, after a long couple hours, a few glorious water breaks, and several Embracing Deathfalse comments from hikers headed in the other direction that we were “almost there” (YEAH RIGHT), we finally reached the top. Now, I had been here before with the outdoors club, but the second time around didn’t make the view any less magnificent. It was beautiful, and I immediately wished I’d thought to bring a tent so that I could camp there forever. We ate the picnic we had packed and then hurried to make it down the mountain before the sun set. It wasn’t until we were back at Furman watching The Little Mermaid in Katie’s room that it grew dark outside (HA, grumpy trail-guide lady).

Katelyn, one of my other Furman best friends, is really involved with Habitat for Humanity. Specifically, she’s in charge of helping the lady receiving the new home to transition into a more stable life and to feel comfortable with the program itself. A couple weeks ago I went with her to help build. Although a lot of the people there were Furman students, there were also several community members, one of which who showed me how to put siding on the exterior walls. All in all, it was a really great experience, and I’m disappointed that I didn’t get involved earlier.

DJsThe Greeks aren’t prejudice.

I’m not Greek, but I seem to end up at almost as many Greek functions as the full-out purebloods.

Awhile back, one of my best Furman friends Katelyn invited me to go to the Tri-Delt function. The theme was something that starts with the letter D. We went as DJs, but I also saw detergent, donuts, DH workers, and a bunch of other D-lightful costumes (HA. A knee-slapper). We got an awful lot of weird looks when we made an appearance at Fuddruckers fully clad and in our D-themed apparel, and I had a blast dancing until the early hours of the morning.

Then, a couple weekends ago, I went with my friend Lauren to the Chi-O function at a club downtown which Chi-O had rented out for the occasion. The theme for this party was “what used to be cool,” so Lauren and I dressed up as our parents. Since I was the dad, I tucked a button-down Hawaiian shirt into hiked-up cargo shorts, borrowed a mismatched tie from a boy upstairs, and wore black socks with Chacos. I have to admit that we were looking particularly snazzy for the special occasion.

To all you parents out there, I’m happy to inform you that the Furman sorority functions do not seem to me with my roomie Ella, AKA Ashley Olsenlive up to their stereotype implying that the alcohol at said activities flows like water over the High Aswan Dam. Although I was at the time slightly disgruntled by the forms which had to be signed stating that I wouldn’t drink, not to mention the stringent regulations forbidding anyone but a sorority member driving to and from the function, I appreciate the fact that the girls are careful about those sorts of things.

I was absolutely thrilled to find out that I’ll be living in the Spanish House next year with three close friends, Jessica, Melissa, and Katie. The language houses are open mostly to juniors and seniors, but apparently they accept sophomores too. We’re particularly excited because they’re located in North Village A, which is the apartment complex closest to classes, meaning that we’ll have our own kitchen, ginormous bathrooms, and of course a permanent fiesta (I’m buying a bunch of Sam’s-sized salsa containers, and we’re labeling every item in Spanish, ie “el horno” y “la computadora”). I’m even more excited because if everything goes as planned, I’ll be speaking fluent Spanish by this time next year. We’re required to speak to each other in nothing but Spanish, we’re taking two Spanish culture classes, and we have a bunch of speakers and activities planned for us. Ay, ay, ay!

Last Saturday, I piled into the car with four of my closest friends, heading out Furman’s back gate toward Asheville, except we never went to Asheville. For the first time in my life, I had absolutely no intention of iceskating!going anywhere; nowhere specific, anyway. Heading toward the mountains, we stopped at roadside fruit stands, a Dixie supply company, and several wildlife overlooks that most people hurry past. In the car, we’d sing along with the music for awhile; then, when we saw something really beautiful – a quiet, empty field, or the sun setting over the mountains – we’d pull off the road and just sit there in silence until someone finally suggested that we move on.

The Sunday before last, I woke up to someone pounding on my door. I looked outside the window, and there it was, a thin blanket of snow barely skimming the entire campus. My friends and I bundled up as fast as we could and ran outside to the practice football field, where we hurled grassy snowballs at each other and threw ourselves penguin-like down a hill. By 11:00 the snow was completely gone, although I still have a teeny snowman named Frostiqua living in my freezer as proof to those who woke up too late that it actually snowed at Furman.

Rush happened over the past three weekends. The Furman statistics say that less than 50% of students go Greek, but that’s a little misleading, as 70% of girls are in sororities. I, for one, don’t consider myself katie and I dyed our hair pink: bad idea.the sorority type, but a lot of my friends are really happy with their bids. The process in itself seemed mostly chill but very time intensive. It’s cool that even though my friends have their new “sisters,” I still spend time with them and they haven’t given up their former activities or social life to be gung-hoe Greek. I actually started my own sorority called EKKD (my roommate and my initials), and we decorated other Independents’ doors, congratulating them on their acceptance.

I love my new classes. I’m taking Spanish 215, Interpretive Strategies, Inventing Christianity, and Finite Math with Dr. Shell. I’m also overloading my course schedule to take drawing II, and, to do that, I had to meet with Dean Bartlett, who I swear is by far the coolest person I’ve met so far on campus. I’d expected a severe, Professor McGonagall-looking lady and was very surprised when I stepped into the office of a well-dressed younger woman who has grade school kids of her own. Needless to say, the meeting went well, and I picked up my drawing class, no problem.

My birthday was the Tuesday before we came back to Furman, so I had two parties- a lumberjack party at home, and an 80s dance party at school. The 80s party turned out to be a blast. I had a rockin dance we went here to watch the sunriseplaylist, along with cookie dough (unbaked), Razzles, Fundip, Pizza Bites, and chips, cheese, and salsa. (I love food, if you haven’t noticed). We stayed up late watching Ferris Bueler’s (spelling?) Day Off and eating candy. As soon as pictures go up on facebook, I’ll post them for you to see. Everyone went all out with their 80s clothes... it’s pretty funny.

Well, it’s time to head off to Spanish class.

¡Buena suerte en el final semestre!

Ella decorated the dorm Circus-style for my bday... I even have Britney quotes on my ceiling!

I’ve never had a more relaxing break. In college, when you’re done with the semester, you’re DONE. No essays to write, no projects to do, no books to read (unless, of course, they’re on your own personal booklist). Such magnificent freedom, however, comes at high a cost:

... cue Jaws music...

EXAMS.

Well, the good thing is that if you start studying over Thanksgiving, the workload is manageable, and everything will probably run smoothly given you keep a steady study pace up until exam time. On the flip side, what psycho college student willingly puts himself through six weeks of self-inflicted hell? Sadly, I’m one of those obsessive freaks who spent Thanksgiving dinner thinking about myelin sheaths and Plato, although I’m terribly inefficient and spend most of my study time in a daydream. Even though I was up studying for my psych exam until 4 AM before my 8:30 test, the work paid off and my grades were just fine.

Furman, however, (whose unofficial motto is “where your best is not good enough since 1826) is surprisingly sympathetic toward the mental health of its students, particularly during exam time. FUSAB, the Furman student body, hired professional massage therapists, and students who signed up early enough got free messages, along with coffee and muffins. Unfortunately, my friend Jessica and I didn’t get there in time, so we grabbed some junk food and gave each other massages. Overall, I didn’t think exam time turned out to be nearly as horrible as it’s cracked up to be.

Although I’ve heard frightening stories about college professors from the Black Lagoon, I was extremely lucky this semester on getting into some great classes. I couldn’t tell you which class was my favorite, but I was particularly impressed with my Spanish professor, Dr. Bost. I came into his class a little nervous about Spanish, since I hadn’t taken AP Spanish since my junior year but had scored well on the placement test. After the first class, he assured me that I was in the right course level, and he made it clear that I was to let him know if I had any problems or needed extra help, a policy which of which I took advantage. In class, he made Spanish interesting by constantly making us laugh (I laugh twice as loudly as anyone else, mainly because I’m so proud of myself for understanding the joke), and I also gained confidence in my speaking skills. I’m even thinking about trying to get into one of the Spanish houses next year, even though I’d only planned to take a year of language just to get the requirement out of the way.

Well, I’m going to get back to reading the sixth Harry Potter book for the fourth time... hope everybody’s having as fabulous a break as I am.

Okay, At the top...been awhile. Sorry I haven’t posted anything since, well, Halloween, but I’m going to put up a bunch of shorter entries over the break, especially since so much has happened between then and now.

First and foremost:

CAMPING.

A couple months ago, I found out about this really great organization called FUOC, or Furman University Outdoors Club. Basically you pay $10 for your t-shirt, and all other activities are free, more or less. You can even rent out tents, sleeping bags, kayaks, whatever you want, whenever you want. So anyway, FUOC scheduled a camping trip the first week of November to Table Rock, which is located a on a mountain about 45 minutes north of Furman. I decided to go even though I couldn’t convince my very un-hardcore friends to go with me. As much as I love them, I’m a little glad I did this by myself, because I met some really amazing people, one of which has backpacked through China and wandered aimlessly around Europe, and another rafted down the Savannah River... on an air mattress. (And I thought I was brave for camping with a bunch of strangers.)

The hike up to Table Rock was gorgeous. We ate peanut butter and banana sandwiches and fruit snacks at the top, looking down at this amazing view that, to be cheezy and cliché, took my breath away and made me feel really small. After stumbling back down the mountain a couple hours later, we exhaustedly set up tents, collected fire wood, and started the spaghetti over the Coleman stove. That spaghetti was by far the best pasta I’ve ever eaten, and I’ve had a lot of pasta in my life.

Eventually it started to get dark and cold. Really cold. We huddled around the campfire and made smores Survivors of the Wildernessand talked for awhile, and eventually I found a smoky spot that made me feel cozy. Even though we were cold and filthy and sitting on the hard ground, there was no place I would have rather been. For that one night, nothing else mattered but the stars and the wind and the crackle of the fire, and I wanted to set up my own personal tent and stay in the woods forever.

Awhile later, we had moved on from smores to roasted bananas, roasted apples, roasted fruit snacks, and a combination of all three. It was about that time when we were all getting really sleepy, and I had dozed off a couple times. I didn’t want to crawl into the tent and miss anything, so I had the bright idea that maybe the girls should sleep outside, too, since the boys were already doing the same thing.

Um. Bad idea.

I “woke up” the next morning (the quotation marks because I don’t know for sure that I ever went to sleep in the first place) with frost and ice on the end of my sleeping bag. I was FREEZING. If you ever go camping, might I suggest that you take something better than a 30 degree bag for below 30 degree weather. Of course one of the boys THEN goes on to say that there had been five or six extra sleeping bags I could have curled up in. Somehow, I still didn’t want to leave. After some oatmeal and fruit snacks for breakfast, we packed up the car and headed off to Furman, where I took the best and longest shower of my life.

To all of you new Furman students, congratulations! I can’t wait to meet you!