Fault!

The Horizons elections over and done with, the last bit of any sort of responsibility has finally lifted from my weary shoulders. It's a sense of liberation that reminds me mildly of the youthful innocence of freshman year, when 100 level classes and humid evenings outside Welch cafeteria were really the only worries one had. The only problem is that this new liberation has morphed, quite unexpectedly, into good old fashion bordem. Dear reader, between now and finals, I don't have a whole to do. Dr. Gitter provides my only real engagment with schoolwork with his book discussions on immigration (which, I'll have you know, as an immigrant, I'm all for). My other classes are stumbling along, seemingly sharing my sense of academic limbo, lulling me into a false sense of security before the finals.

In the interim, however, there's not a whole lot to do. Actually, that’s not quite true. Just this Sunday, there was a barbeque in the Thomson lawn, taking advantage of the perfect whether Ohio has recently had to offer. The same evening, the India Literacy Project organized a traditional Indian dance performance in Philips. Today, as I was walking back from editing class, a band of what seemed like nomadic puppeteers were performing outside Bashford. Then of course, there are the class representative elections tomorrow.

So I suppose it’s not really that there's nothing to do, it's just that junior year coming to an end, my legs just refuse taking me much further than my house's kitchen downstairs. I've been spending endless hours in front of my computer screen, shirtless, smelly and chocolate-toothed (refer to first blog entry) engaging in the great global dialect (i.e. reading the most inane, obsucre articles the New York Times has to offer) from the orange confines of my room.

The one time I did manage to make it past my house's front steps was when I went to go watch Taimour, my compatriot and fraternity brother, play for our varsity tennis team. It was a peach of a Saturday, cloudless and bright blue. The pervasive smell of blossoms was in the air, which was of course accompanied by the pervasive sight of sun bathing Ohio Wesleyan females, some of the Mid-West's finest. Anyway, along with Julian, another fraternity brother, I decided to rekindle my fledgling tennis career on the practice courts. Needless to say, the lethal forearm hasn't lost its bite, but the serve, which landed slightly out of the service square (to be more precise, it landed on the court on which the final of the varsity tournament against Wabash was being played) left something to be desired. Maybe that's why I haven't left the house in a while.

Ciao for now.

Anyway you slice you it

It snowed today. And also yesterday. In fact, even the day before yesterday, it snowed. No, dear reader, you are not reading an outdated post. This is April 9, 2007. Spring time. And it snowed today, yesterday and the day before. That's about all I have to say about that.

Last week I was stood up by my prospective student. Every year, the OWU admissions office, who you can thank for my useless banter, organizes Ohio Wesleyan's 'Slice of College Life,' a weekend in which prospective students come to campus, stay the night with a student host, and experience, first hand, college life. I'd like to take this opportunity to applaud the admissions office for the rollickingly successful program they have put together.

Anyway, my prospi (as they're referred to in OWU lingo), never showed up. It wasn't a big deal though because Matt, a lanky fellow from Vermont, also my fraternity pledge brother, had to work at the library, pawning his propsi off to me. We toured the library, we toured Bashford hall, and toured my arrestingly orange room. We watched TV, ate Welch food and talked about Social Security's impending disaster while I did finance homework. OWU in a nutshell.

"Yeah, I think I'm coming here, bro," he avers the next morning. I think the excitement of my life, unbearable to most, appealed, with immediate effect, to his party going ways. Bro-ing out is all it takes, it seems, to sell a product these days. Of course, my polished salesmanship will reel in even the most skeptical of buyers. Don't you, dear reader, agree?

In other, more pressing news, Horizons International elections, originally scheduled for today, have been pushed back, by yours truly, to Wednesday because of a dearth of nominations. That's right, my term as Horizons president, by most measures a successful one, has reached its denouement, ending what was a challenging, interesting and down right fun leadership position. The international student community here at OWU is a dynamic one that has managed to pervade every aspect of student life. It was an honor and privilege to represent that vibrancy and talent, and I wish all the best to the new board. That is, if there ever is one. If any international OWU students are reading this, please submit nominations. Please? I'll buy you a soda?

Here's a complete non-sequitur for you, dear reader: in the mid-west, carbonated colas are referred to as 'pop' and, on the coasts, are referred to as 'soda.' What's even more bizarre is that at any social gathering here at OWU, should the subject be brought up, a disturbingly raucous debate will inevitably ensue, polarizing social milieu, and alienating neutral parties. Tempers flair, feelings are hurt. Luckily, there is often enough of the age old social lubricant around to dowse the fires. An uneasy peace keeps the two sides at bay, and all is well again. Or so it seems...


Ciao for now.