So off I flew, and had great visits at both places. I sat in on fascinating classes at both schools. I liked both Oberlin's funky, colorful Mudd Library and Vassar's stately, gothic one. People were friendly at both places, but certainly funnier at Oberlin. I saw awesome student bands play at both colleges. When I returned home, I was at a loss.

I stressed out about it, tossing and turning at night. Where did I want to be? Where was my 'match'? Where would I be happy for the next four years? The answer--I'm not even joking--came to me in a dream.

In the dream, I was wandering through a beautiful winter landscape. I came to a frozen river. On the other side was a sign reading Vassar. I began to walk towards it, but the ice cracked under me and I plunged into the freezing water. I woke up, gasping, and the next day I filled out my acceptance forms for Oberlin.

My subconscious was right. Now I can't imagine myself anywhere else. I'd say something corny about literally "following your dreams" but I can't bear to. Let's just say, when all those pro and con lists aren't doing you any good, sleep on it.

Okay, I'm jumping the gun by about a month. Seriously, however, the sooner you get things out the better. You never know when a freak snowstorm might strike and separate you from the people writing your letters of rec right before the deadline (this happened to me, no joke). If you haven't even thought about applications yet, I suggest you begin drafting essays over Thanksgiving and scouting out teachers from various disciplines who see your genuine talent and sparkle to write your letters of recommendation.

You've probably read all the books and College Board tips and trolled College Confidential for tips--if not, well, try it! College Confidential is a great source. So is the Oberlin Hopefuls Facebook Group. Both places have current Oberlin students answering questions and let you meet other applicants. College Confidential has an advantage in that you can talk to parents on the forums too and compare with previous years' applicants, as well as get into cross-college comparisons. We don't do that so much on the Facebook group, because it's Oberlin-specific, but that means that you can get more focused information if you're sure about Oberlin.

Anyway, you probably know most of the tricks of applying already, so I'm not going to repeat them here (unless, of course, you want me to; leave a comment down at the bottom and I'll get to it next week). I am here to give you the benefit of my own application experiences.

First off, don't apply to eleven different colleges. Please. Just don't. (Even if two of them have no application fees if you apply online.) It isn't worth your time unless it's a pretty dang serious contender. Similarly, limit yourself to ONE Midwestern-writing-friendly college. (I shouldn't have bothered with Kenyon and Grinnell.)

Second, don't be afraid to have fun. This is one place where applying all over the place helped me, I think. I love writing, and I got to the point where I could bang out a decent essay on why I would be a great student for X and X would be a good school for me ("while being insightful, amusing, and genuine, spill your guts in 250 words or less--on your mark, get set, GO!"), but it got boring and disingenuous after a while.

So when one school gave me a 14-line limit, I wrote them a sonnet.

That was the first acceptance I got back.

Third, the "What else should we know about you?" box on the Common App is your friend. I wrote several short paragraphs about myself in a Word document which I imported (in general, don't use the Common App's boxes--you can be much longer on your own paper. The Common App cuts you off with "Character Limit Exceeded" and it's very frustrating). It wasn't an essay and the little paragraphs didn't flow together: they were just windows into who I am. I firmly believe in being honest in applications. It may have been a bit of an information overload for the poor application readers, but I tried to keep it funny. It can't have bugged them too much, either--they let me in, didn't they?

Fourth: While I cannot guarantee that it will be helpful, I can give you an example of the essays of one admitted student (me). I hope these help to inspire you in your own application-writing adventures!

This was my main Common App essay (prompt #6: "Whatever the heck else you want to write about, kid"). It went through a few tiny revisions between colleges as they had different application dates, so this may not be the exact version Oberlin got, but any changes would be very, very minor.

Common Application Essay, Prompt #6

Many people claim their lives have been molded by their religious beliefs or spirituality. My own claim is slightly more complex: I developed my own form of spirituality, inspired by my deep admiration of the themes and values of fantasy literature.

My family is not connected with any organized church. Besides going to Sunday school with my cousins a handful of times (we have a very religious extended family), I have no exposure to formal religion--but a lot of exposure to books. Perhaps it's true, then, that humans have an innate, irrepressible desire to believe in something more, because as early as kindergarten I began to experiment with beliefs garnered from stories.

I think I knew that C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia were based on Christian theology, which made them a perfect foundation for my fledgling spirituality. The themes of loyalty, sacrifice, and redemption, which I partly understood on their own merits, gained power from the magical setting. (Besides, I loved the big lion. He was nice.)

A few years later, my parents introduced me to what they expected to be a fun, gripping adventure story and what turned into, for me, the framework of my childhood spirituality--a wild ride of love, loyalty, fate, duty, and soul-stakes swordplay. I am referring, of course, to George Lucas's original Star Wars trilogy. Fascinated by the notion of an all-encompassing, life-generated Force, and the idea that one could, if properly trained, tap into it, I promptly began a regime of self-education. I was incredibly serious in my endeavors and spent long recesses perched atop the monkey bars with my friends, half-laughing, half-earnest, trying to levitate pebbles. One day, when one of these friends casually said, "It's just a movie," I banished him from our Jedi Club for two recesses. Nine-year-old justice is swift and harsh--even when tempered by Jedi wisdom!

With Jedi mind tricks and lightsabers came the dictates of the Jedi Order: to use power only for good, never to strike in anger, to maintain peace and justice. These movies, and the ideas they presented, informed not only my spiritual but also my political beliefs--my passion for justice and identification with underdogs can be traced back to the Rebel Alliance. For three years, my burgeoning consciousness focused around these ideals.

In fifth grade, I discovered The Book of Night with Moon by Diane Duane, set in a world in which magic functions through written and spoken words--a powerful attraction for a budding writer. The notion of word-powered magic struck a deep, resonant chord within me, for here was a way I knew I could affect the Universe. Like the wizards in the story, I was nerdy, a bit of a loner, and already skilled with words. Their examples gave me both the affirmation I needed to navigate my world with quiet optimism and the empowerment I needed to feel I could contribute to the Universe. Other elements of Duane's tale attracted me as well, especially the idea that evil is not necessarily absolute. The creator of evil in her books manifests in different forms, fighting on both sides in the battle between light and dark.

Now, though I still utilize the symbols and motifs of fantasy in my spiritual thinking, I have broadened my explorations to include real religions, at least through Joseph Campbell's writings. I am sometimes unsure if there is any personified Good or Evil in the universe, if such things are externally imposed or arise from human actions and a sort of collective karma. If there are gods, I generally conclude, they're creators, not babysitters--life has to deal with itself on its own.

But there's something incredibly compelling about the image of a young warrior fending off darkness with a shining sword, a well-chosen word.

The pen is not mightier than the sword; the pen is the sword, the sword of thought, and thought is the sword of life.

The obligatory "Why Oberlin?" question. Confession: this is one of the ones where I just banged out an essay after looking through pamphlets and Wikipedia.

From what you have learned about Oberlin College, why have you chosen to apply? What do you believe you will contribute to the Oberlin community, academically and personally?

I'm a creative, witty, liberal geek with a deep love for literature, free speech, and individualism. As such, I'm deeply interested in Oberlin College, which seems to welcome and encourage both dedication and experimentation in its student population. The Experimental College, for instance, sounds like a lot of fun; perhaps I could run a class on social themes in Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels or learn Klingon. Furthermore, a college that has co-ops instead of fraternities and sororities seems like a place where I'd fit in quite nicely. The social involvement and responsibility of Oberlin's students impresses me, as does its dedication to sustainability.

As an aspiring fantasy writer, I hope to work on "Spiral," the sci-fi and fantasy literary magazine on campus. Beyond that, however, I want to get experience with social activism (beyond working for an underground school newspaper), meet and learn from interesting people, and hone my understanding of different cultures and my writing skills. In short, I seek an educational experience that not only enhances my factual knowledge but also broadens my view of the world.

--Taking an ExCo? Check! Published in Spiral? Check! Living in a co-op? Mmm...no. (But Barnard is AWESOME!)

Next, the Common App "short answer" prompt (no way of getting around the length limit on this one, which bothered me to no end!). Determined to get started on applications early, I wrote it at the end of the summer, hence its focus on, well, summer.

This past summer, a small group of teenagers, myself included, collaboratively created a non-school-affiliated newspaper. We sought an outlet for muckraking, creative writing, and free speech. The Viking Underground's first two issues have been well-received by parents, students and even school district officials. My inaugural article, a spotlight on Banned Books Week and Curtis' [my high school] own brush with banning, ran on the front page.

Previous attempts to revive the official school paper had failed, largely due to funding issues, and a group of geeky, quietly rebellious intellectuals attended the preliminary Underground interest meeting. The more devoted of us met regularly over the summer or communicated on an online forum, posting and editing articles. We are a diverse and interesting group: topics of discussion at our meetings and publication parties range from politics to Star Trek to guacamole, and our numbers include two atheists, a Mormon, a songwriter, and a Ron Paul supporter.

Finally, the "Additional Info" paragraph-stream. I've taken out some paragraphs because this post is getting pretty long:

With all my activities (swimming, the newspaper, Knowledge Bowl, Youth Council, numerous A.P. classes), it would be easy to neglect my family and live in my own private world of to-do lists and homework. However, I have managed to strike a balance between my peer-group commitments and my duty to, and huge affection for, my family. We eat supper together 99% of the time and talk about more than just scheduling; I recently took my mom out for dinner and we had a wonderful conversation. I also try to spend time with my little brother every day; he is fun and interesting, and he possesses a surprisingly sharp wit. We talk, play catch, engage in forty-minute-long Uno duels, or play spies, using walkie-talkies and codes to thwart the evil plans of the family cat to take over the world.

I tend to lead a quiet life, walking, reading, and writing in my (currently, quite limited) downtime. I hope it's evident from my writing samples, but I am a gifted writer--I attended the Kenyon Review Young Writers' Program this summer, and I have begun a novel that takes a Jane-Austen-style plot into a Star-Trek-style setting. I'm creative and humorous, and I enjoy--and seem to have a knack for writing--humor and satire, especially when it gives me a chance to poke fun at myself. I'm a very strange person, and I'm the first to admit it.

Until fairly recently, my volunteering experience was limited to many one-time events rather than ongoing projects; having no church affiliation made finding a community-service network difficult. I pitched in willingly whenever I found an opportunity, however: helping run an Alex's Lemonade Stand for children with cancer, assisting with food drives through Honors Society, and selling fireworks with the local Lion's Club. In the December of my junior year I discovered the University Place Youth Council and joined it. Consisting of civic-minded teenagers, it provides me with structured, regular opportunities for community service and planning.

In my sophomore year, after swim season ended, I decided to try expanding my horizons: I took on a job tutoring at a nearby intermediate school two days a week, joined Knowledge Bowl, and tried the track team. Though it was at a very inconvenient time, the job was my first commitment, and as such I honored it above the others. This made me miss nearly every Knowledge Bowl match and track meet. I attended all the practices of each, however, because I didn't tutor on the practice days. I discovered a lot about myself through this period of experimentation: I like working with children, I can handle a job, I love the atmosphere of Knowledge Bowl, and track isn't for me. Accordingly, the next year I threw myself whole-heartedly into Knowledge Bowl, and if tutoring had been at a more convenient time, I would have done that again as well.

In addition to swimming well for the Curtis High School team (qualifying for the district meet in the 100 yards breaststroke!), I also scream well. Over the years, I have perfected what my mother calls a "train yell": a long, low, loud note that my teammates swear they can hear underwater. Though it's been known to cause my brother headaches, my teammates laugh and request that I cheer for them, so I keep blaring away. I won the Most Inspirational award this year--elected almost unanimously, out of a team of sixty girls!--in part because of the yell; I also received the Viking Woman Award, given to someone who is involved on the team, in the classroom, and in the community.

I've played violin since halfway through fourth grade. Right now, I'm in the Chamber Orchestra at my school and I take private lessons. While I'm fairly good--I got a rating of "Excellent" on my solo at the regional Solo/Ensemble contest my sophomore year--I play mainly for my own gratification. Being able to evoke, with a few strokes of the bow, the thrills and wonders of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings gives me a huge sense of power and satisfaction.

I occasionally get caught up in a crazy enthusiasm for one thing, often of a geeky bent, that I daydream, study, and breathe for several months: Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Discworld . . . very nearly to the point of irritation, but not quite! I am, therefore, very understanding about the passions of others.

Phew! I hope that is helpful to someone!

I've got more--different colleges had different prompts--and if you want a look at 'em, just comment and tell me so! Also, please feel free to tell me if my posts are getting too long or too self-centered. I'm here for you guys, not to show off my writing skillz.

I just read Eli's delightful anthropological study of the co-op and CDS experiences and couldn't stop grinning at the shoutout at the bottom of the post. Why not? I haven't written a blog post in ages. Let's make your stomachs growl at my Thai special meal blog post.

I worked in a Thai cafe a few summers ago when I was home on another Oberlin-lacking, family-fulfilling break. The work atmosphere wasn't the most pleasant, I did learn a bunch about Thai flavors and picked up a few recipes along the way (see below for tasty tasty chai recipe). Since then, I've collaborated with a group of amazing Harkies twice for Thai special meals, and this weekend was the third, and everyone knows that's always the charm.

November was having unseasonably warm weather for the past week (sadly, the warm stint has ended and I have to wear a coat again) and Saturday was no exception. Friday, too, was gorgeous, and I was already loathing the fact that I would be inside all of the following day cooking. Food is worth it, but I do love sunshine.

Friday evening, while rocking out to 90s pop Youtube videos, Now 4 (I have no idea why Daniel has this in his iTunes), and Regina Spektor for four hours, the fabulous first-year Dan, Daniel, and I had plowed through pounds of onions, carrots, cucumbers and cabbage as well as processing five pounds of tamarind and baking tofu in preparation for our cooking on Saturday afternoon. Friday ends at about 3am for us, always a good start to a weekend special meal.

Around 2pm the next day, as crew is finishing polishing up the kitchen, we begin. Cooking team roll call!

ø Ma'ayan "Tamarind Wrangler" Plaut
ø Daniel "Must Be Summer Cause We're On A Roll" Dudley
ø Dan "This Ain't No 'Wok' In The Park" Redwood
ø Sophie "Four Hands and Using Them All" Kern
ø Harris "Coco For Coconut" Lapiroff
ø Mary "Summer Rockin' and Rollin' " Slattery

(special guest appearances and special thanks go to Paia Dalke, Jamie Albrecht and Jamie Flynn for aiding in some last minute prep)

This was a most rocking special meal team. I love all of you.

Since this is a blog, you can't stop me from telling you guys the menu. Hold onto your stomachs, I'm nowhere near done.

The menu:

¥ Pad Thai (vegan and non-vegan, as well as a soy-free/gluten-free tamarind noodle stirfry)

Pad Thai is a personal favorite in my family, and there's always an argument over who gets to order it when we go out to eat Thai food. Since my family prides itself on not being boring, we very rarely repeat dishes at restaurants, and I know the obvious solution to this... learn how to make it at home. After years of experimentation, my mom had gotten to the point of a passable recipe (or maybe it was just my brother and dad telling her "it was close but not perfect" just to have her make it more often). Over the summer, I started researching the foods I love to eat but don't necessarily have available to me in Ohio, and pad Thai was the first on my list. I did perfect it this summer, and encourage you to try this recipe yourself.

For Harkness, however, a vegetarian alternative to fish sauce was needed (Bragg's Liquid Aminos is surprisingly similar in taste and viscosity, even if it lacks that little animal kick), and the amount of tamarind needed for the recipe was ridiculous. I wrestled five pounds of tamarind for an hour, shrouded in rubber gloves and an apron, shoving this food equivalent to krazy glue through a fryer basket sieve, and finally managed to get several fabulous pounds of ready-to-use tamarind. The only other change in the recipe was the dire lack of rice stick (we managed to get a very thin rice noodle for the summer rolls and the soy-free/gluten-free stirfry, but they were too thin for a good pad Thai), and we substituted in buckwheat soba noodles. Less authentic, but it was a decent alternative.

¥ Thai Fried Rice (vegan and non-vegan)

Dan's piece de resistance was two steaming woks full of Thai fried rice, studded with green beans, roasted garlic, eggs for the non-vegan option, cilantro, green onions, bean sprouts, and lime. This was no ordinary fried rice, it was incredibly refreshing and not heavy at all. Smear a little bit of chili sauce on it and it was irresistible.

¥ Summer Rolls (with special cilantro-free, cucumber-free, and soy-free/gluten-free options)

Over the summer, Daniel, too, began experimenting and learning more about food, and became a master at summer rolls (read about his Thai adventures here). It was only natural for him to churn out an epic amount of summer rolls for this meal, filled with rice noodles, baked tofu, cilantro, basil, carrots, and cucumbers.

¥ Khanom Krok/Coconut-Rice Pancakes

Harris and I have very similar taste in desserts: not too sweet, small so you can eat a lot, awesome texture, and a hint of something savory. These coconut pancakes hit all those things, and with some experimentation in substituting a muffin tin over a specialized dimpled cast-iron pan, a bike ride to IGA to buy rice flour, and this recipe, Harris whipped out about a hundred little cakes topped with chopped green onions.

¥ Peanut Sauce

Absolutely necessary for summer rolls. I love peanut butter, I love peanut sauce. This meal begs for it. Moving on.

¥ Sweet Chili Sauce

This sauce is an absolute staple for me, at home in Hawaii, at my Oberlin home, at Decafe, and on pretty much every thing I eat. It's my ketchup. Every year I've made a chili sauce for the Thai meal, using different ingredients, but always ending up pretty much the same: sweet, hella spicy, and with wayyyyy too much cornstarch (I know how cornstarch works, but it goes from thin to pudding so quickly. I blame it on multitasking). Think chili pudding rather than sauce, and you have a good idea of what this looked like. This is not to say it wasn't delicious, and complementary to everything in our meal.

¥ Thai Chai (topped with your choice of milk, soy milk, or coconut milk)

This is the crowning recipe from my summer in Thainaturalfoodcafeland. Commercial Thai tea is black tea with some chemically spices and then topped with cream. The cafe had an alternative, and a far tastier one at that. Their tea was lemongrass, ginger, whole cloves, and whole cinnamon, boiled for several hours then mixed with palm sugar. The Harkness version contained brown sugar instead, and an obscene amount of it. The result is a thick and delicious chai that is good served warm or cold, with various dairy-like add-ins or straight.

What a delightful meal, both in the kitchen and in the dining room. Each major dish (excluding the sauces and chai, which I made) had a head chef of sorts, and whenever that person needed help, Mary and Sophie would come to the rescue with additional hands. Serving was still Harkness's trademark mob, but with enough food, people are calmer. We also brought out the food in stages, announcing ingredients and alternatives that would be available.

Sadly, there are no pictures of the Thai extravaganza. Cooking was a full-time job on Saturday, and sitting down to eat was a pleasure... until I realized I was too tired and full to get up again. This kind of stomach pain is good.

We cooked LOADS, far exceeding the amount of people present for the meal (Harkness dining ran out of chairs), which is something I love doing when cooking. I love leftovers, especially if it's leftover Thai food. The coconut cakes and chili sauce disappeared, but I luckily got a cup of chai the next morning to accompany the second tasty meal in 24 hours, the crepe special meal. It was a painfully delicious weekend, and I ate far too much. But it was so worth it. Nomnomnom.

November 20-22 was Parents Weekend at Oberlin. Herds of grinning parents roamed the streets with their kids, gawking at buildings, munching on free snacks and enjoying the incredible weather.

I had two major highlights: being with my mom and observing other parents.

It was a lot of fun hanging out with my mom. It felt a lot like when relatives came to visit my family in the Bay Area, except instead of showing the Golden Gate Bridge, Haight-Ashbury, and the seals in the harbor I showed her A. J. Lewis Center, Harkness and our albino squirrels in Tappan. And just like when we gave relatives a tour of the area back home, I took my mom to do things that I would never visit on my own time--instead of Alcatraz prison, we toured the Frank Lloyd Wright house.

My mom's impressions of Oberlin:

• "Everyone is so nice!"


• "It's so bizarre how this is out here in the middle of Ohio." (strong emphasis on "this" and "Ohio")


• "We were socialists in college too--we had a bike-sharing program." (after touring Keep Co-op)

In addition to hanging out with my mom, it was fun to observe families. Around their parents, everyone suddenly seemed to regress to a younger age--it felt almost like that day at summer camp when all the parents come to pick their kids up. It was fascinating, and often hilarious, to see the similarities between kid and parents--where that red hair, that giggle, that large chin or that quirky personality came from.

Between being pampered with free cappuccinos, new socks, and shipments from California (Avocados! Peet's Coffee!), and learning a little more about the hereditary origins of my peers, I had a great time over Parents Weekend.

I went to the first meeting of CSA my freshman year. I arrived early, because I still went early to things back then, and loitered around outside the door of the room in Wilder until I felt it was a proper time to enter. There were three or four other freshmen there as well, along with the rest of CSA. I had never seen that many Chinese people in one room before. (This is not true at all, but it sounds more dramatic.)

Being a shy person, I was very, very intimidated. Everyone was nice, of course, but all the old members knew each other (of course), which was a little scary. I smiled and sat through the introductions and watched a slideshow of photographs from the past year and then I left. And then I didn't go back to another meeting.

As you know, I did later rejoin CSA, and now I'm holding an elected position and writing about it every other week. The point of this post is not how I finally made my way back to CSA, but rather my regret that I didn't do so sooner. I'd have gotten over the intimidation factor after a few weeks, and right now I might even be co-chair! (Or not. I do not want to be co-chair, ever.)

And this point leads to my greater point: freshmen really should join student organizations. Case in point: one of the freshmen in CSA this year got to go with us to Cleveland while we were grocery shopping and therefore got to eat dim sum. Frankly, this is a great reason to join.

But beyond food, now she has a whole support group of upperclassmen, which is pretty cool. Upperclassmen can give freshmen a break from the optimistic freshman way of life by giving good advice like, "Trust me. It just gets worse from here. You need to take these classes in this order so you don't go crazy like I did." They can also invite freshmen to the better parties.

...Okay, so those were both (maybe) bad examples. Nevertheless, my advice still stands. Speaking as an upperclassman, I'm very happy to see freshmen join things that I'm a part of. It means more people to help out, and they're usually very excited about things. At CSA meetings, we make it a point to bring up things for brainstorming early on. We know none of the older members will think about CSA things over the course of the week, but the freshmen have yet to become jaded and definitely will. It's really refreshing to see that kind of thing.

Reading back over this post that I wrote last night at 1:00 AM, it seems a bit too sarcastic. However, I'm not going to change it, because the underlying meaning is actually (sickly) sweet and needs to be hidden beneath some sarcasm. But to end on a happy note:

I spent Friday night at a CSA movie night, eating pizza and making fun of the movie along with my favorite CSA freshman. (There were other people there, too, but they weren't as into making fun of the movie.)

Before you ask, I don't know what the name of the movie was. I do know, though, that it was a kung fu drama and there was a guy in it who looked and acted exactly like Jack Sparrow, except that he was Asian. Unfortunately, he died very early on in the movie and was actually a very minor character. This sadness was sweetened by the fact that I got to eat a homemade smoothie.

You have to stand in line. In the dining halls, you can spot a visiting Harkie from a mile away. We're the ones standing bewildered in the middle of the food court, clutching empty plates and wondering how we're supposed to get food. "Excuse me," we murmur, tugging at the sleeves of passers-by, "but why is all the food behind Plexiglass, and why are all those people standing and waiting?"

Some co-ops do have lines, of course, but in Harkness their absence is a matter of pride. Instead, we have an efficient and meritocratic tradition of mobbing: the clock strikes 12:20, a vat of steaming mashed potatoes is swept through the kitchen door, and to the victor go the spoils. It seems animalistic, but there's actually an elaborate code of chivalry. If you know someone's been waiting particularly long, or needs to rush to get to class, you let them go ahead. (Just because we're savage doesn't mean we're not co-operative!) And there is nothing more exciting than being the first to grab the spoon and fill your plate. Food just tastes better when it's been won instead of served.

The last few loaves of a batch of Hark's famous bread.

Forks and spoons are not endangered resources. The dining halls are dotted with cheery little forests of silverware. Okay, so Harkness does actually have enough forks for all of our members - more than enough. But people rush off to class with fresh granola or take some stir-fry up to their room, and somehow it takes a while for the silverware to make it back to the kitchen. So it's always a good idea to show up to meals a little early. Otherwise you may find yourself eating noodles off a knife or siphoning up soup with a turkey baster*, which always makes lunch interesting.

* We're a vegetarian co-op, so I have no clue where the turkey baster came from...

You're not supposed to go in the kitchen. It doesn't matter if you bring an apron, a hair net, and a framed copy of your culinary school diploma - CDS just won't let you in unless you work there. In a co-op, of course, everyone works in the kitchen - and everyone owns all the food inside. I love wandering through the kitchen to see what's cooking, or stealing a (fresh local organic!) apple from our giant walk-in fridge. I love knowing that my friends made our bread, granola, yogurt, and tofu. I love coming home late at night and finding that someone is making vegan doughnuts, or soaking beans for tomorrow's lunch. And I love knowing that if I don't like what's for dinner and want to make something else, hey, it's my kitchen!

The dry foods room: we own it!

You don't have to wash your own dishes. Right next to the door in Stevie there's a magical conveyor belt, and your dishes disappear into a tiny room and come out squeaky clean! Yeah, most people probably consider this a good thing... but I've grown to love my weekly crew. It's pretty cathartic to abandon a particularly frustrating problem set and scrub the living daylights out of some poor pots. There's always good music; Harkness has a wonderfully eclectic CD collection, and the DJs on WOBC like to give shout-outs to all the co-opers doing crew. Last semester, the folks on my shift became obsessed with A Night at the Hip-Hopera and listened to it pretty much every week. I've been to a lot of Friday night crews that ended in dance parties.

Most importantly, when you know that you or your friends have to take care of every mess or get shut down, there's a pretty strong incentive to keep things clean. And after maintaining an industrial kitchen according to state health code, tidying up your kitchen at home is a cinch.

Ryn with the Hobart, our beloved industrial dishwasher. Note the stylish hairnet.

People don't clap for meals. We love food! It's tasty, it's life-sustaining, and it's a lot of work to make. So about five minutes into every co-op meal, when everyone is served and settled and has taken a bite, someone will start to clap. If it's a particularly good meal, people will whoop and holler, pound on the tables, bang plates and forks together. (For Ma'ayan's Thai special meal last weekend, we clapped twice - it was that tasty!) Clapping isn't just for the cooks - it's for the people who grew the food, the foodbuyers who picked it out, the crews that keep the kitchen clean, and everyone else who works so hard so we can eat our meal. It is so awesome to see everything stop for a minute so we can celebrate the work we've all done for our food.

Last week I walked through the Shau Kei Wan market in Hong Kong looking for something tasty for lunch before my visit to Hong Kong Island School. I love street markets and try to visit them pretty much everywhere I travel in the world. As I walked past stall after stall of fresh fish, I was struck by the similarities. At least to an outsider, the stalls all seemed pretty much the same. Whenever I see markets with so many similar stalls I can't help but wonder how and why individual customers choose one rather than another. Obviously there must be no one "best" fish stall for, if there were, the others would soon be forced out of business.

I suppose if I lived in Shau Kei Wan and shopped the market day after day, I'd discover some small differences that might make me prefer one stall to the others. Perhaps the fish monger in this stall is a little better at removing scales. Perhaps that stall is known to keep some extra special pieces behind the counter for regular customers. Maybe that vendor uses just a little more ice. Maybe this vendor charges slightly less for my favorite variety of fish. That vendor's brother is a crab fisherman and always has the very best crabs. Maybe the gossip is a bit more detailed at the stall next to the diner, etc., etc. Eventually I'd probably decide which one or two special traits were most important to me and I'd become a regular there. Of course, if you lived there and experienced exactly the same set of variations you might have a different favorite - perhaps money isn't as tight in your home, or you don't like crab anyway, or you prefer to clean the fish yourselves. But the simple fact is there is no single best fish vendor for everyone.

Colleges and universities are a lot like fish stalls. In lots of ways they are all the same - especially if you consider just a single type of institution - say selective liberal arts colleges. One may have stronger science offerings. Another has a more varied meal plan. This one has a better baseball team. That one has a higher law school acceptance rate. College A has a bigger library. College B has more buildings with WiFi access. College C is in a major city. Your favorite teacher attended College D and raves about the philosophical discussions. College E offers need-based financial aid to international students. The residence halls have air conditioning at good old College F. Fraternities are an integral part of the social life at still another school. H College has an open curriculum. International Winter Term programs are famous at College I, etc., etc. But in the end, they are all great academic institutions with a lot more similarities than differences.

There are a few differences between the liberal arts colleges and fish markets, though. Liberal arts colleges generally smell better, for instance. More important, you have the luxury of returning to the fish market day after day until you find just the vendor who best meets your needs. Most people will ultimately end up at one or maybe two liberal arts colleges in their lives, so the "trial and error" method of searching for the "best" liberal arts college isn't too practical. Campus visits can help a lot, but VERY few international students are really in a position to visit many (or any) campuses before making their decisions. So in the end you have to try to weigh the myriad of information that you can learn from various sources and try to determine what the best liberal arts college for you is.

So what is the "best" liberal arts college for you? Who knows? That depends upon which of the almost limitless number of possible dimensions are most important to you. If you happen to value exactly the same things as the editors of the US News and World Report, then, congratulations!, the choice of the best college for you is really easy. But, unless your goal in life is to sell the most magazines, there isn't really all that much chance that you have exactly the same preferences as the good folks at the US News. Of course, there are lots of other rankings out there, but they, too, are based on some set of criteria that are extremely unlikely to be the ones that matter most to you. The College Board website has an interesting program where you can indicate how important a number of criteria that they have listed are to you and it will rank colleges based on that. This is an improvement as it allows at least some of your preferences to come into play. But even this is only a modest step in the right direction as the list of criteria is pretty limited and your ability to weight them is fairly minimal. (Note: if you pick just the right set of conditions you can make Oberlin rise to the very top of the list!)

Before you finalize that list of schools to which you send applications, take a minute and think about what matters most to you. Some things may be absolutely essential and non-negotiable. If you want to learn Japanese, you'd better choose a school that offers it. If you are an international student who needs financial aid, you'd better look only at schools that have some. Other items are less black and white. Do you really need the very best history program at the undergraduate level or would a merely strong program be good enough? If a school is good at getting its graduates into MBA programs, does it matter to you if they don't have an undergraduate business major? Is an institution that values community service paramount for you? Are you looking for a program that is geared primarily toward students planning to enter the labor market immediately or one that focuses more on preparation for graduate or professional schools? What sort of clubs are important to you? Do you want to participate in intercollegiate sports? Does it matter to you if your fellow students are interested in environmental issues? Which is more acceptable to you, higher tuition or higher average class sizes? Is geographic location important?

Once you've thought through which items are absolutely essential, which are important to you, and which are just somewhere on your wish list of characteristics, it's time to start gathering information. Most of the factual stuff you can get from college web sites. But if what a campus community feels like, if who the students are and what they value is important to you, you need to find a way to assess that. Student blogs can be useful tools. Blogs like mine can be helpful, but remember I get paid to paint Oberlin in as positive a light as I can. College Confidential and similar sites can also be helpful as long as you don't take every word as the literal truth.

After you've gathered your data, see how various schools stack up against that list of criteria that matter to you. Don't worry if it doesn't look the same as your friend's list. After all, does he shop at the same fishmonger as you do? And definitely don't worry about whether or not it looks like the US News list. The people who made up that ranking graduated from college a long time ago!

There is one other critical difference between liberal arts colleges and fishmongers. Very few fishmongers will refuse to sell you a mackerel if you are willing to pay for it. Liberal arts college don't have enough mackerel to satisfy everyone who wants one and so have a nasty practice of refusing to sell their services to more than a small fraction of the people who are interested in buying. This may mean that you have to temper your ideal list to factor in your own unique academic, extra-curricular, and financial circumstances.

But in the end, if you've been realistic about your own strengths as an applicant and created a college list that is based on the things that are most important to you, you will probably end up at a place that is a good match for you. And then comes the most important part of all. Fall in love with your college as soon as you can. There is often a pretty good reason that we end up in the place that we are in. As long as you end up at a solid academic institution, you will be attending an institution that has the resources to enable you to go wherever you want in life. The real trick is for you to do your best work. In the end that is a LOT more important than which school has a few thousand more books or a lower student-to-faculty ratio. And if you learn anything from this long lecture that started with a simple observation in a fish market it should be this: You will get the best education for you at the place that feels right for you. Good luck finding it. If it is Oberlin, hurray for us. If it isn't, please don't feel bad; we don't mind. We want you to have the best education that you can.

First let me start with the basics for those of you completely new to all this. Oberlin is a Common Application school, and we only take the Common App. Therefore, the recommendation guidelines are the same as those for the Common App: we require two recs from teachers who have taught you in an academic subject (i.e. Math, English, Social Science, Science, or Foreign Language), and we ask students to include with those the Common App's teacher rec form. This is just a two-page form that includes some evaluative info as well as class information for the student. There is a small space on the second page of that form asking for a written recommendation. Feel free to attach a separate letter to the form in place of this; teachers don't have to squeeze their rec into the small space on the form.

Let me expound upon requiring that the recs be from academic subjects. We know that many of you may have had more meaningful experiences with an art, music, business teacher/mentor etc., but we still require at least two recs from someone who has taught you in English, Math, Social Science, Science, or Foreign Language. If you'd like, you may send in supplemental recs from an art teacher or the like, but you still need the basic two. Every year we have a surprising number of applicants who don't follow this rule, and it only slows down the review process.

As stated above, we do accept supplemental recs. If a student feels that there is someone who knows them very well and can give supportive and unique information about them to the admissions committee, then they can add the rec to the application and it will be reviewed as supplemental material. This is not necessary, and you are not set back if you only have the required two recs. Every year we admit plenty of applicants who had no supplemental material with their files. Supplemental material will never be the deciding factor; it will only serve to help us get a better picture of you as a person and student. The standard application materials are quite often more than enough for us to get such a picture of the applicant.

I think that covers what I wanted to say. Just a quick tip in parting: if you haven't already, figure out who you want to write your recs, and give them plenty of time (usually at LEAST two weeks) to write them. Hope this helps!

The fact is, silkscreening is hard. It's messy. It also gives you a pretty good forearm workout when you're frantically printing 40+ posters. Other than the actual printing process, silkscreening requires a good deal of waiting for things to dry and for chemicals to cure. But above all else, silkscreening can be really fun and incredibly rewarding.

Before I continue, I should probably give an explanation on what silkscreening is. Sadly, that's easier said than done... Well, no. I didn't actually mean that. What I meant is that it's harder to say what silkscreening is with words than for me to do an explanation of what silkscreening is through pictures and diagrams, and when I said "Sadly, that's easier said than done," I was referring to the fact that it's easier to say that I should give you an explanation on what silkscreening is as opposed to actually explaining what silkscreening is due to the aforementioned reason that it is harder to say what silkscreening is with words than for me to do an explanation of what silkscreening is through pictures and diagrams... Yes. That made sense.

I hope that wasn't too confusing. Onto that explanation of what silkscreening is. I have decided to consult the brilliant thing-explainers of Wikipedia, since they are much better than I am at explaining things:

Silkscreening is a printing technique that uses a woven mesh to support an ink-blocking stencil. The attached stencil forms open areas of mesh that transfer ink as a sharp-edged image onto a substrate. A roller or squeegee is moved across the screen stencil, forcing or pumping ink past the threads of the woven mesh in the open areas.

"Huh?" Yeah. I understand. Like I said earlier, explaining it is easier said than done...er, done than said. To fix this problem, here are some pictures. I know that people like pictures. I like them too:

By some crazy process involving photo emulsions and light exposure, you end up with a screen that looks like this. The yellow areas are places where ink can be passed through while the green areas are sections that are blocked off to prevent ink from passing through. There are tons of other techniques that one can use to block off particular areas, such as using paper cutouts, drawing fluids, and cut-film. Once your screen is coated properly, the next step would be to...

By squeegee-ing ink across your screen, the ink is forced through the areas of the screen that are not covered or emulsed. If all goes well, a print is made. If something goes horribly wrong, a mess is made.

Lots of things are silkscreened that you might not know about. Those posters advertising upcoming events around Oberlin? Silkscreened. Those cool shirts that one buys on Threadless? Silkscreened. That poster you bought at the Spoon concert a couple summers ago? Silkscreened. That Hollister t-shirt your jerk of an ex-boyfriend used to wear? Probably silkscreened. The Statue of Liberty? That's made out of copper.

This past weekend, I spent close to 14 hours in the silkscreening studio working on a poster for the Taiko Drumming ExCo's final performance. My Saturday night included 7 hours of printing, helping friends print, and eating Agavé burritos.

My poster printing experience was far from smooth. I ran into tons of complications with creating a proper blend, accurately registering colors, and keeping my cool. Consequently, I have had a pretty stressful weekend. I ended up with about 15 legible, decent to good-looking posters while the other 25 were an utter mess. Luckily, a few of them came out pretty well and I was overall pleased with the handful of successes.

Ta-daaaaaa!

Bad critiques can single-handedly ruin my mood, but a good critique is enough to make my week. After our last critique, I think everyone in the class was pretty worried about this project. John Pearson can be scary at times, but it's because he is serious about the work and truly cares about his students. Like many professors here at Oberlin, Pearson is fantastic. If anything, his intimidation factor is a heavy motivator.

The happy ending to the story: My critique went very well. Otherwise, I wouldn't be writing an entry about it, right? Right. Despite the troubles that I encountered, the experience left me encouraged and motivated for future endeavors.

As a matter of fact, there were tons of fantastic posters produced by my classmates. Here's a sample of some of them. I wish I could have taken pictures of all of them, but I did not get the chance to snag pictures of them after the critique.

Look to see these awesome prints around campus sometime within the next month!

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/learning/college_courses/silkscreening_i.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/learning/college_courses/silkscreening_i.shtml College: Majors, Minors, & Courses Tue, 17 Nov 2009 00:21:11 -0500 Chris Gollmar '10 Peel back the new sofa cover and the bright sheets covering the arm chairs, and the living room furniture in my apartment is absolutely hideous. Beneath the decorative bowls full of colorful fruits and vegetables sits an uneven, roughed-up dining room table. The paint is peeling off the walls in a couple places, but a housemate’s colorful paintings catch the eye instead. The best touch, though, is the large tree limb we have installed in the corner of the living room. It adds a cozy, arboreal feel to the space.

My apartment isn’t glamorous, it isn’t in mint condition, but I have to say, my housemates and I are certainly making something nice out of it.

There comes a point in any undergraduate’s life when living in a dorm room is no longer such a welcome thought. You graduate to an apartment or a house. Oberlin students usually start out down this path by living in a College-owned Village Housing apartment. The lucky ones get the chance to live off campus during their senior or fifth years. I suppose I cheated a bit by studying abroad starting my junior year, thus getting to live off campus—quite far off campus, in fact—before my class standing would normally permit me the privilege.

With this, of course, comes a whole host of new responsibilities. Living on campus, you generally don’t have to worry about paying monthly rent or utilities. And you stand a greater chance of having neighbors from “the real world” (i.e., non-students) if you live off campus. And just plain finding an apartment, getting in touch with the landlord, and signing a lease is an experience in and of itself.

In the end, the chance to live off campus in your very own apartment is a great learning experience. Maybe my apartment isn’t the nicest place, but it has been an exciting process trying to make this place feel like our own.

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/living/housing/making_ourselve.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/living/housing/making_ourselve.shtml Dorms, Co-ops, & Other Housing Mon, 16 Nov 2009 20:39:00 -0500 Harris Lapiroff '10 Some people come to Oberlin eyes open and confident, knowing exactly what they want from college and prepared to take it. Most of us, in my experience, don’t. Many of us are unsure: we know some things we like, we know some things we want to try, but we’re not really sure what we’re looking for. Some of us agonize over it. College is a mental struggle, not just on the most obvious level of challenging classes—analyzing stories and histories, memorizing formulae, creating meaningful art and writing, & cetera—but on a deeper harder level of grappling with oneself. For many of us college is the time when we come to terms with what it means to be an adult and decide how we want to react to our changing lives. I’ve changed a lot during my years here. Most people do. Even the difference in attitude between a student beginning their first year and that same student finishing their first year can be striking. That’s why so many of us find it harder and harder to go home with each passing break—we used to be the right shape to fit in that place we come from, but Oberlin’s been working on us like clay and now there’s a little bulge that feels a little awkward and uncomfortable in our old house. We have to squeeze a little to fit.

But that’s not exactly what I meant to talk about.

For some people, a large part of this philosophical battle of our brain—trying to determine who we are and what we will be—a major¹ aspect is that well-known dilemma of deciding what to study. It’s hard to say whether choosing a major has been the cause of so much of my introspection or just the most obvious representation of it.

Some of you no doubt will come to Oberlin all planned out—you know what you want to study. You’re certain. Others among you don’t know yet. Maybe you won’t know for a long time. A few of you might struggle with it, as I have. To you, I offer my story. It’s long—encompassing pretty much the entirety of my time at Oberlin—and it’s going to take me a few posts to get it out.

What I am. What I was.

I’m a mathematics major. Math is a wonderful discipline—an exploration of the laws that govern and/or approximate our universe as well as some stuff that people just invented in the name of fun and fascination. Math is great.

Source: xkcd

But I didn’t always love math. I was always good at it—so good, in fact, that I had taken four years of high school math by the end of my third year in high school. But just being good at something is not enough to make you love it. What math class did I take for my senior year? Nothing. I said to myself, Thank god that’s over! I’ll never have to take another math class again, and spent my senior year of high school free of that subject I loathed, mathematics.

Sometimes, you’ll think that you hate something, only to realize that you only hated the simple rigid way it was taught to you all your life prior to college. In college you realize that things are a lot more complex than your high school teachers ever led you to believe and, as a result, are a lot more beautiful. That goes for every discipline I’ve had the pleasure to study at Oberlin.

So when I came to Oberlin, I definitely wasn’t a math major. What was I?

I was tentative. Not socially—I was outgoing and friendly and made a lot of friends that first year, but that’s another story—but academically. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to study, so I dabbled.

I knew that I liked writing. I liked graphic design so I thought maybe I’d like art. They’re similar, right? I thought I’d experiment in politics and cinema and theater. I even thought I’d dip my toes into a physics class just for good measure.

In short, I had no idea what I wanted to be. So I did what I think everyone should do when they’re not sure where to find the path. I experimented. A lot.

Next: Two years of everything.

---

1. No pun intended. &uarr

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/learning/college_courses/how_i_chose_my.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/learning/college_courses/how_i_chose_my.shtml College: Majors, Minors, & Courses Mon, 16 Nov 2009 09:43:16 -0500 Alicia Smith '10 On the first day of class in September, the 15(ish) of us sat nervously in Journalism Basics as we awaited the arrival of our professor. After sitting in wait for about 5 minutes, our teacher rushed in and sat down.

"You have exactly 30 minutes to go out, find a news story, and write the beginning of your article," Professor Protzman said.

So, we all set out on an adventure in journalism. I have written sports stories for the Review for a few years, but I've never had to do anything like this. As I wandered into Wilder Bowl, my mind started racing. How much news can there really be at 2:37pm on a Monday? So I had what I thought was a great idea--I approached two random first-years and asked them how their first days of classes as a college student were going. I envisioned a brilliant piece on nervous first-years' adventures in Obieland, complete with anecdotes and humorous quotes.

I learned quickly that 30 minutes does not allow for such a thing, and that my idea was anything but unique, and certainly not brilliant. Each of us had to read what we had written when the 30 minutes were up, and apparently at least 2 other people had my same "brilliant" idea. And I say "brilliant" because it is actually not a news story. The main lesson we took away from that day was the difference between a news story and a feature story--the difference being that with a news story, something has to actually happen. Unfortunately for me (and most of my classmates), who wrote about concepts rather than an actual event, we did not write news stories. Seeing as I want to go to journalism school next year, I felt like I had failed. But fortunately for me, we got another shot.

(Side note: My favorite story of the day was by one of my classmates who ran all the way to Beethoven's Bagels [a new bagel place downtown] and interviewed the owners. He came back to the classroom sweating and out of breath, with ice cream in hand to give to our professor. Talk about a man on a mission.)

Last Wednesday, about two months after our initial news hunt, our professor gave us the exact same assignment--find news and write about it in 30 minutes. This time, I was determined to find news, no matter what.

As I walked past Mudd, I secretly hoped I'd see someone fall and break their arm, or Dascomb going up in flames--that would surely help me write a killer news story (no pun intended). Unfortunately for me, I just saw the usual barefoot hipsters lying in the grass, being completely uneventful. So what did I do? I went to the mail room. Surely there must be something exhilarating going on there.

When I am determined to do something, I just do it (like Nike). So basically, I was going to find news in the mail room if it was the last thing I did, even if it meant instigating a fight or planting something in the walkway that would cause someone to trip. Luckily I didn't have to do any of that.

At the mail room desk, I witnessed a girl getting a package. What better story could there be than one about a girl getting a package? So, I quickly ran up to the girl (trying to be as least stalker-esque as possible) and asked her if I could interview her. She was surprisingly undisturbed by my creepiness and answered my questions without hesitation. Turns out she is currently in a research methods course and thought she could sneak away with an A without purchasing the textbook, but recently realized that was out of the question. So she swiftly ordered the book and it had arrived on this blessed occasion. However, as she opened the package in front of me, she realized that it might be the wrong edition. Sounds like a front page story if I ever heard one--New York Times, here I come! I can see it now: GIRL ORDERS WRONG EDITION OF TEXTBOOK, by Alicia Smith. Can you say Pulitzer Prize? I can. (Pull-it-ser Prize.)

So I returned to the classroom, organized all of my information, and wrote the article. It may not be earth-shattering news, but technically something did happen. This time, I received my teacher's approval of my news story. I felt like a real journalist.

I probably won't use my mail room story as a writing sample for my graduate school applications, but I will always remember it as one of my (hopefully) first of many adventures in investigative journalism.

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/learning/college_courses/no_news_is_good.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/learning/college_courses/no_news_is_good.shtml College: Majors, Minors, & Courses Sun, 15 Nov 2009 23:14:30 -0500 Alice Ollstein '10 1. Sometimes, when you're up to your elbows in work and stress, it's best to force yourself to do at least one non-academic activity every day.

I'm going nuts writing a 25-page paper for my senior English seminar and planning the Nicaragua delegation, and though I was planning to hole up in the library from dawn to dusk yesterday, a few key moments saved my sanity. It was unseasonably warm yesterday--t-shirt weather! My housemate and I woke up around 11 and had a little time to kill before attending our other housemate's meal at Old B co-op, where she's a head cook. I lamely suggested that we do some reading. Thankfully, she convinced me to bike around the Arboretum (or Arb for short) and take fall photos instead.

The Arb is the southernmost point on campus, past Old B and J-House (a stately, Jewish-themed dorm). It's a beautiful little bit of nature with trails, little creeks, and gorgeous trees. It's lovely to visit in every season, even in the dead of winter when it's covered in snow. Ohio is flat as hell, but there's a modest slope in the Arb perfect for sledding.
Anyways, the ride, followed by delicious food (including lemon poppyseed cake!) cleared my head and got me geared up to write my paper.

2. It's okay not to go out every weekend night.

Yes, there may be a hot new student band playing at a party down the street. There may be a crazy experimental play being put on. But there's definitely something to be said for staying in on a chilly fall evening with a few good friends. I stayed in pretty much all weekend (part me being a homebody and part this monster of a paper I have to write) and will reward myself tonight by going to a tango dance in Cleveland with my favorite professor and some good friends.

3. Ask and ye shall receive.

A lot of Obies complain about a lot of things. Food, housing options, their homework loads, various injustices practiced by the powers that be... Yet not as many do something about it. I've found that the school administration has been exceedingly responsive to student input.

For example, I was poking around on the recently re-designed Oberlin website and I noticed something that bothered me. To get to any information about OSCA (the beloved co-ops), you have to either hunt in "student organizations" under "co-ops" where it's listed as equal to much smaller and less influential organizations like the photo co-op, or really dig in the housing and dining sections, where it's listed last even though it's by far the cheapest option. I wrote an e-mail to my bloggerboss Ben Jones, and after listening my concerns he made arrangements to put a more visible link to OSCA's website on the homepage. Badda bing, badda boom. Another co-op-related example came a few weeks ago, when students who had to practice their Spanish for class complained that there was an official "Spanish table" in the dining hall, but not in co-ops. Kim Faber, who teaches beginning Spanish among other things, listened and is currently setting up an OSCA Spanish conversation
table that yours truly might lead.

I'm not saying the school bends over backwards for every student whim, but more often than not, airing grievances can be highly productive.

More unsolicited lessons to come! Any other Obies want to chime in on the discussion?

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/misc/miscellaneous/fall_musings.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/misc/miscellaneous/fall_musings.shtml Miscellaneous Sun, 15 Nov 2009 09:42:18 -0500 Tess Yanisch '13 Last weekend, I got up early, ate some of my oatmeal (very handy stuff!), packed clothes and homework into my backpack, and ran over to a house a block over from Barnard. This was the home of Avital, (co)leader of the Sunshine Scouts, and nine of us (the tenth couldn't get out of work) were meeting there. After a few minutes of tracking down stray people, we divided into two cars and hit the road.

Where were we going? What were we up to? How long were we going to be in the cars on such a strangely gorgeous day? And what kind of music were we going to listen to en route?

Well, the answers, in a nutshell, are: Chicago, going to an invitational improv tournament, roughly five hours, and lots of pop and hip-hop, respectively.

Correlative questions: (1) Wait, what? and (2) How does a soundtrack/folk/rock/protest-music fan, such as our protagonist, handle that?

Answers, in reverse order: (2) Reasonably well--she receives her dose of pop for the next six months all at once, that's all; (1) The Chicago Improv Festival has invited college improv groups to compete for a short period of time--this was the third year and its first year of being a national thing. There were seventy teams total across the country, so this was a pretty big deal. It was also the first year the Scouts had been invited. We were going to be competing in the Midwestern region. There were twelve teams total, which would perform in three groups of four in the afternoon. The winner of each group of four would go on to the finals at 10:00 pm. The winner of the finals would go on to nationals sometime in February.

The trip out was full of silly car games--how many words can we think of that begin with "sp"? Spoon, sphinx, sphere, sphincter, spiral, splay, spoor, spore, sponge, splash, splat, spy, spatula . . . How many uses for a ball? Soccer, football, volleyball, foozball, ping-pong, polo, water polo, no they are not the same thing, polo is on horses and water polo is in the water, yes horses, no I'm serious, rugby, juggling, tennis, those ball-with-a-handle thing kids bounce on . . . Who am I? Are you male? -yes; fictional? -yes; written by an American? -no; written by a Brit? -yes; written by a woman? -yes; within last 100 years? -doubt it, but maybe . . . [much later] written by Charlotte? -no; written by Emily? -yes; are you emo and violent? -yes; are you Heathcliff? -yes!

Then there was a traffic jam coming into the city, which was a bit of a pain, but it let the second car catch up with us because it took a different route. We found a pretty reasonably-priced public parking garage about fifty feet away from StudioBE, the venue. It wasn't difficult to find; the large crowds of college students hanging out in front of it being improv people--silly, loud, engaging, joking, extroverted, off-beat--was pretty distinctive. (Plus we had an address, but, well, you know.)

We had decided to all dress in black and brought Halloween face paint so we could have "war paint." We mostly went for small things around our eyes--curvy lines or dots. Jonah, the piano player, had a bass clef curving around his face. We looked pretty imposing, or as much as nine Obies can...

In this account, I'm skipping over most of our warm-up exercises (carried out in an alley across the street from StudioBE in high-energy low voices so as not to scare the people living in the apartments around us) and the waiting around until we went.

Our performance was decent--not great by our standards, but good. They taped it, and if you want, you can watch it here.

Then we watched the group after us--The Unusual Suspects from the University of Minnesota-Morris, who did a truly great job of cranking out 25 minutes of short skits about potatoes. With that kind of thing, the true humor is in the fact that they just keep coming! My favorite section was when they got into pronunciation. A and B are arguing over "po-TAY-to" versus "po-TAH-to." Then C comes on, selling "POT-a-toes! Fresh POT-uh-toes!"

At the end of the round, they announced the winners: us! We were obviously very excited, but we also had about four hours to kill before the finals began. This is where some of the awkward stay-keyed-up-but-not-too-much waiting came in.

We met up with an ex-Scout, a graduate who lives in Chicago. He was actually the one I'd prank-called at my induction. (New Scouts get to improvise on the phone to old ones. I told him the 5,000 piglets he'd ordered were ready for shipment but we'd lost the address, a scheme pulled more or less directly from reading The Saddle Club when I was ten. I told my parents they weren't totally junk-books.) We all went to a pizza place and talked. Most of us were getting sleepy so we made a Starbucks run afterward. I got a grande mocha--sugar, warmth, chocolate, and caffeine is usually a winning combination for pumping me up if there is no adrenaline readily available in the form of a new Terry Pratchett book or Firefly.

We walked back to the garage and, while some people rested or took a nap, I called my parents to tell them I'd gotten to Chicago safely and fill them in on what was happening. They were very encouraging.

We went in to warm up at around 9:30. The three final teams had very different styles of improv, we'd been told, and the judges were looking forward to it: it would mean seeing how well each group did in their own field rather than "X understood their long-form better than Y did." We were going against the Improv Mafia from Illinois State University, who won last year, and a group called The Founders from (I think) the University of Wisconsin-Madison. The Improv Mafia was going first, then us, then the Founders.

What can I say? The Improv Mafia was amazing. Watching them at the beginning, I could only think, "This is the kind of stuff that, this time last year, I'd be thinking, 'I'd love to be in on this.' Except that now--I am." We, the Sunshine Scouts, had been trying very hard to get ourselves energized, woken up, psyched. The Mafia was so high-energy and there was so much sheer fun in what they were doing--and they were so good at it--it was the best thing that could have happened to us. (You can watch them here.

Rather than be overwhelmed, we were all pumped, impressed, delighted. We had to duck backstage partway through their act to get ready, and we were all thrilled. I realized in retrospect that this is a pretty impressive thing: I genuinely don't think any of us felt threatened or scared. We appreciated what they were doing, admired them, and we finally felt awake and ready to go out and play. Because playing, in the end, is what we do. It's about fun, and it is fun. I remember people grinning, excited, nervous, and I remember saying something along the lines of, "We're just gonna go out there and do our best and see if we can do half as well as that!"

Finally, we were all lined up inside the curtain, ready to jump out and scream and then act. We got our cue and did so. Then Avital asked the audience for a suggestion (which we would use to kick-start our opening monologue). Someone said "Galaxy," Avital and Tim left the stage, and there was a moment's pause. I reflected on what the word "galaxy" had triggered in me.

Please remember that I'm jumped up on mocha (coffee/sugar/chocolate), adrenaline, and laughter right now . . .

Anyway, the video is right here if you want to see our final performance.

After we left the stage and recovered our bearing somewhat--feeling confident in our performance, that we did well and gave a good showing--we slipped out into the audience to watch the Founders. They were good, but we found them, well, a bit coarse, I guess; their jokes came back to a lot of stereotypes and frankly could be offensive. (They did have some pretty funny Yukon gold-miner characters in there, though.)

So we had the Improv Mafia, which had done several short sections of different forms; us, with our very narrative, artistic long-form (we really like our improv as performance art, apparently); and the Founders, who had perhaps a more traditional/old-fashioned take on improv. I thought we'd done better than the Founders--content aside, their form was a little sloppy--but better than the Mafia? Not sure....

In all the earlier rounds, the judges had come out with their ratings pretty much instantaneously. In this one, we were asked to have a dance party while they deliberated. So, nervously excited, we all flooded the stage and danced for one song...

Then the announcers came back onstage and we went back to our seats. They told everyone--performers and audience--that each judge could give out 16 points, for a total of 48 points per group (three judges). There had been a spread of exactly 1.5 points between all three groups. (Dropped jaws, nervous glances. The tension mounts.)

Furthermore, the second and third place teams had been tied and had to be resolved by some other method I could not remember. This was necessary because all the second-place teams--one from each region of the country--have a chance of going to nationals as a wild card, while third-place teams don't. The videos, they told us, will be placed online and whichever second-place team gets the most votes will get to go on.

More glances, slight squeals, intent stares.

"In third place--the Founders!" (So my guess was right. Respectful clapping and some unbridled cheers. We're like a shaken soda in here, just waiting to burst out.)

"In second place . . . and remember, the second place troupe still has a chance of going on to nationals . . ."

(Yesyesyes, we know, we know!!)

"In second place . . . The Improv Mafia!"

Screams.

That was all that was necessary, really. Telling us that we'd won--which they did, a minute later--was icing on the cake. We knew. If the Improv Mafia was in second, the process of elimination was pretty damn easy. And we were pretty damn excited about it. I distinctly remember being part of a group hug in which I experimentally took both feet off the ground. No problem. The other three or four people held me up without even noticing. I did feel a bit surprised--I really had had no idea whether it would be the Mafia or us--but I was so excited! And sportsmanship is different in improv--I think they understood we weren't gloating. We were happy! And expressive!

We trouped out onto the stage to receive the plaque telling us we were Chicago Improv Tournament Midwest Regional Champions and they took a photo of us. We were all cheering when they took it, so we look possessed or in pain, but we were glorying in our moment of triumph.

After that, we went backstage again. I am an introvert and not usually prone to jumping around screaming and hugging people, but this--this was almost like triumph in Knowledge Bowl! Except with acting and more funniness! It was a wonderful feeling. It gave me the lift to become very extroverted, to be frank. I hugged a number of the Improv Mafia folks and told them, honestly, that I thought they'd win and I really loved their performance. Around me, many of the other Scouts were doing the same. They were great; told us all we were amazing and we deserved it, yadda yadda yadda. Nice people. So if any of you, dear readers, can figure out how to vote on that video site, I urge you to vote for them.

We spent the night in a youth hostel in Chicago and drove back on Sunday. I won't go into detail about that, partly because it wasn't very eventful, but mostly because this entry is really long enough!

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/community/music_theater_arts/sunshine_scouts.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/community/music_theater_arts/sunshine_scouts.shtml Music, Theater, & The Arts Student Organizations Sat, 14 Nov 2009 22:30:25 -0500 Karl Orozco '13 Sundays are lame. You know what's not lame?

"MindFuck Monday."

(In order to minimize profanity, I must censor from this point on.)

Now, what exactly is MindF--- Monday?

After a long week of Orientation, Sir David Fegley concocted the seemingly simple yet undoubtedly brilliant idea of screening Fight Club in the Barrows lobby. What started out as 8 or so Barrows residents watching a wholesome, feel-good family movie (not) turned into more than 40 (I kid you not!) Barrows residents watching a gritty, hard-nosed movie with a twist ending. Thus, the tradition known as MindF--- Monday was born.

From that day forth, David began screening movies with twist-endings every Sunday night at 10:15 PM.

But... er...Why is MindF--- Monday on a Sunday?

One would assume that MindF--- Monday would take place on a Monday. However, since MindF--- is a social phenomenon based on the intrigue of movies with twist-endings, having it on a Sunday is in itself a TWIST! Get it? Yeah? I know... corny.

Suggestions for other movies were taken and MindF--- Monday came into fruition. MindF--- Monday gained publicity, and people came to the lobby ready for their minds to be f-ed.

I never considered myself much of a movie person before Oberlin, but MindF Monday has fostered a greater appreciation for movies. Here's a list of what has been played up until today. In sequential order, might I add!:

Fight Club
American Beauty
Memento
The Crying Game
Donnie Darko
Requiem for a Dream
The Usual Suspects
Tell No One
Pulp Fiction

-----

It's safe to assume that jaws have been dropped every week. When watching American Beauty, a certain point in the movie evokes a bunch of "WHAT!?"'s and "HUH?!"'s. In cases like Requiem for a Dream, everyone is left in a total state of shock after the movie, with eyes wide open and mouths agape. I myself went through the whole night wanting to call my grandma to tell her to stay away from infomercials and drugs. (Yes, I am aware that this possibly is not good for my "rugged" campaign.) After Donnie Darko, a Q&A session follows the viewing to clarify what just happened. And in odd cases like The Crying Game, everyone is just too weirded out to talk about it.

By far, the best person to watch for crowd reactions is Melanie "The Emotional Narcoleptic" Berk. In her case, emotional is an understatement. A small, 30-second scene of two children kissing in Tell No One was enough to have Melanie bawling her eyes out and gasping for breath. Further, a 15-second commercial for Jim and Pam's wedding on The Office brought Melanie to tears.

Unfortunately, there is a recurring theme of death, drug usage and mental disorders in most of these movies. Because of this, MindF--- Monday often leaves you feeling a bit melancholy. Are twist-ending movies obligated to have a somber ending? Not totally sure.

Sundays are almost always a downer. The fact that Monday is right around the bend is enough to dampen anyone's mood. If you're looking for an outlet for stress, MindF--- Monday is way better than doing homework.

On a related note, much to the delight of Sarah and my mom, American Beauty is now my favorite movie.

-----

On an unrelated note, CHELSEA DIED. A couple weeks before fall break, she stopped shifting gears. It was stuck on gear 2, which wasn't that big of a deal since Ohio is so flat. Alas, that was not the end of her suffering. The front wheel brakes stopped working the week after break and the back wheel brakes broke a few days later. I took her to the bike co-op, but the person working there told me that Chelsea was very old and poorly made. Thus, fixing might be a little impractical.

You were a wonderful bike! R.I.P.

]]> http://blogs.oberlin.edu/community/life_culture/plot_twists_or.shtml http://blogs.oberlin.edu/community/life_culture/plot_twists_or.shtml Student Life & Culture Fri, 13 Nov 2009 22:36:00 -0500