perspicacious?

Here is a phrase I say to myself at least once a month: 
“It is not okay to go a whole month without writing a blog.”

Here is a phrase I have said to myself lately: ”CRAP! February’s too short!”

And so, here I am. Trying to be committed to the craft of keeping the things that matter together in paragraph form, and trying to not imagine the upcoming midterms that are straddling the path between myself and my scribe-like duties. I have paid them what I owe for today. Now, on the brink of sleep, I push the grimy hands of every task I could be completing away from my mind; there can sometimes be more important things to write than papers.

At this moment, I am listening to “Latika’s Theme” from the Slumdog Millionaire soundtrack. For those that, like me, were unable to catch the Oscars on Sunday night, I would just like to make it known that Slumdog apparently took away a handful of awards, including the category of Best Picture. I would also like to make it known that the title, in my opinion, is absolutely well deserved. I saw this film twice in less than two days, and loved it with my whole heart both times. Although I will confess that it is long, and that somewhere at about an hour and 36 minutes in you start to wonder when the happy ending is going to land in your lap, by the final scenes (both times) I was completely convinced that every second of the last two hours of my life was perfectly well-spent. Please believe me when I say that you definitely, positively, unquestionably must see this film.

I don’t want to give a plot summary or a formal review, but I will say that there is something precious in the story of the film that left me, in the end, wordless. Some things are just that way, I guess. It met my heart perfectly in the middle of everything  that makes up my days and startled me with the freshness of redemption and love. And while the beauty somehow made me ache, it was still exactly what I needed to remind me of things bigger and more wonderful than myself.

Like rescues. And dancing. And love.

Anyway, all of this to say that I sort of involuntarily threw my arms up touchdown-style when my teacher mentioned this movie in class on Monday. It’s just that good.

The world is covered in clouds and puddles today. Here at Oglethorpe, this makes for most interesting class-to-class walking experiences. When it rains, our sidewalks bury themselves under sometimes ankle- and knee-deep bodies of water that extend far above and beyond what is called for in the traditional “puddle.” These fall more into the category of “lagoon,” and they result in an experience familiar only to OU students that could be called “extemporaneous full-body immersion,” or “I should have worn my bathing-suit today.” These impromptu swimming lessons are just another element of Ogle life that we freshmen were not warned of in all of our pre-college training, but that we are quickly learning how to survive. The rain, I would venture to say, we have even learned to love.

Exhibit A: Tarp sliding.

I wish there were pictures to explain this, but I will have to try my hardest with only my memory and my words.

Last Wednesday night, upon returning to school from various activities abroad, I sauntered three doors down the hall to room 220 to check on the events for the evening. The plan was that we would all pile into vehicles and carpool to Steak n’ Shake for 75 cent steakburgers, because our goal most of the time is to obtain as much free/cheap food as possible. So. Those of you readers who are located in the north Georgia area like myself may recall the uncharacteristic 14 hour tornado-inducing storm we all experienced on that particular day. What you probably do not know is that, for some reason yet unexplained, nearly all of our male friends here at OU are baseball players. Thus, we sometimes have access as a group to secret, covert baseball operations that other students may or may not ever even be aware of at all; one such item is the covering and uncovering of the entire infield with an enormous silver tarp on rainy days. When I arrived in room 220 to discuss food-related goals, I was met instead with a conversation that went something like this,

“Okay, we can go get food now, but we have to be back by 9 so we can take the tarp off of the field.”
“Alright well, let’s-”
“HEY, we could go tarp sliding.”

And after they had clarified to me exactly what this activity entails (it is exactly what it sounds like: running and intentionally diving into puddles on this gigantic slippery surface), the plan was set in motion. We rallied the troops and armored ourselves in throwaway t-shirts and set off to conquer our most daringly outlandish exploit to date.

It went swimmingly well, pun quite intended. We found an enormous lake of a puddle somewhere between second and third base and slid until we were all soaked, tired, and injured in some way or another. In additions to obtaining mild concussions resulting from too-ambitious headfirst dives, I’m pretty sure we may have experienced varying levels frostbite and/or hypothermia due to the vicious cold that clung to our muddy toes and shivering shoulders. There isn’t a worse feeling than being chilled to the bone, completely drenched, and inadequately clothed in the middle of a February night. But perhaps there isn’t a better one than doing all of these things on purpose with the people who make your life better on a regular basis.

Which brings me to my next thought. I’d like to introduce The Crew. I will preface the introduction, however by saying this:

With the arrival of college came many new things, but a basketful of friends on my doorstep was perhaps not one of them. School basically began with just me, Beth, Bianca, and the early morning cross country practices that ruled our sleeping schedules with a tight reign. In talking to my roommate about these things, I said, “First semester was you and me against the world.” This statement was then quickly followed by, “It is so different now.”

Since the return from Christmas Break, a new dynamic has been at play among us. Suddenly the friends we had been fond of before we went home for the holidays became less transient fixtures in our affections, as if the long time spent away made us all realize what was so good about being back at the Fort. The daily routines of 2009 began to develop and we found that these beautiful people were consistently present in every plan we made and every  scheme we hatched. As of today, scarcely a meal has passed that I haven’t been in the good company of 220 boys and/or Dempsey girls, along with the ever present roommate  and the wonderful Bianca. Thus, because I love them and because I love to write, let me break this down for you.

Clair the Clever.

I met Clair at an Oglethorpe scholarship weekend in January 2008, and we were perfect for each other. This was made clear by our unintentionally matching outfits, like a secret handshake we didn’t know we had. I then proceeded to decide that she probably wouldn’t want to be friends with the likes of me, and have since been proven wrong in a million ways. Clair’s skin is always tan, due to the various ethnicities coursing through her veins, and always dehydrated, due to her inability to cope with any climate that isn’t Louisiana. She is a skilled letter-writer, story-teller, and salsa dancer. I aspire to be as clever as Clair someday.

Bianca the Babe.

 Bianca came into my life as the “cute Jamaican girl who doesn’t seem very happy to be here” during the very beginning of cross country season last semester. Somehow and for some reason Bianca quickly became a part of our daily routine: wake up too early, Bianca comes over, go running. Those were our days from August to November, and by the third week in she had already won our hearts. B’s most defining characteristic is probably either her inherent Jamaican laidback demeanor, or the incredible hotness that she possesses. She talks quietly but laughs loudly, and says “watuh” instead of “water.” She, too, does not know the meaning of “pale.”

Ethan and Mickey. Two of The Boys.

One fateful night in October, by means of a stolen pumpkin and a game of Apples to Apples, Ethan and Mickey showed up on our radar for the first time. Since then, many board games and unplanned adventures later, so much has changed. Nearly every time we walk out of the room with some project in mind, we are heading down the hall to room 220 to “get the boys.” This, of course, includes the honorary member of Club 220, Jake Spear, affectionately dubbed “Stringbean.” Many cold and windy hours have been spent cheering these boys on from the stands of Hermance Stadium since baseball season began. Imagine: a vast horde of attractive college girls yelling your name at all your sporting events. You don’t get much luckier than they are, I’d have to say. 

The Fearsome Foursome.

And of course, The Fearsome Foursome. Hilary, Eli, Hannah, and Pudge are only available in numbers greater than one; it is rare so see one of them flying solo. I’d have to say they are one of the most well-matched friend groups that has formed since we all arrived onto the OU campus. I always love sharing blankets with them at baseball games because Hannah has more player/game knowledge than the rest of us combined, Hilary sits in my lap when she gets cold, and Eli yells intermittently throughout the game. Pudge sometimes tries to yell, but none of us really have the volume capacity of Eli Newland. That’s just the way it is.

Beth and Me.

And of course, my ravishing roommate, Beth. It almost goes without saying that we are nearly as perfect for each other as roommates can be, but I say it often just in case either of us forgets. We have more adventures, silly moments, and deep conversations in one night of studying than most drunk frat boys have in a weekend. I am sitting on her bed as I type, watching her go about her nightly tasks and thinking that I have it pretty good here in room 217. Click here to experience our most recent video production. A work of pure art, I assure you.

And, well, what can I really say? There are so many more people who make my Ogle life a beautiful life. I think it would be a lofty task to introduce them all… sweet Sarah, philosophical Erik, bearded Balbir, the immutable Katherine, and Liz who is always going to concerts. There are many whom I love. I’m sure you will know their names in the near future. Assuming that I write again in the near future. Which I hope to do.

I will end by saying that I gave blood today, despite the deep unsettledness I feel regarding needles. Of course, it would be me that has to get poked twice in the finger before they can ever jab me in the arm. But it’s gonna be okay- I saved lives.

That is all for tonight, though there is much more to be said. Thank you for reading. February = blog’d!