Posts Tagged 'The Syracuse Saga'

Apples to apples


Today, despite the most un-October-like heat and humidity, some of us in the Honors Student Association went on an apple-picking mission to the Beak & Skiff orchard (“‘Beacon Skip’? What? What kind of a name is that?”), about twenty-five minutes south of Syracuse. The orchard itself is big, and beautiful, and they have a killer per-pound rate for the pick-your-own stuff, but let’s think about this for a second: Honors students. Apple picking. On your list of Fun Things To Do, it’d probably fall somewhere between clipping your toenails and making EasyMac – it’s just not, I imagine, the most exciting of prospects for most people, is what I’m saying. It doesn’t exactly sound like rock n’ roll, does it?

But you’ve never met these Honors students.

Cut to Rachel in the driver’s seat, belting the lyrics to “Good Morning Baltimore” from the Hairspray soundtrack as we make our way towards I-81, speeding just enough to almost lose the others in Steph’s top-down convertible behind us; I’m riding shotgun, giggling behind the rolling camcorder that Steve-from-the-Honors-Program made me take along, to “document” our “activities.” And…well, let’s just say the resulting footage won’t be making its way into a family-oriented documentary anytime soon.

Continue reading ‘Apples to apples’


A study in caffiene dependency

So, it’s October. It’s been October for four days now, in fact. Gosh, how the time flies – wasn’t it just the beginning of September? We’re in the sixth week of the semester, and I keep doing that whole “No, really…six weeks? Has it been that long? Oh, well, I guess it has been that long. It feels like we’ve been here forever. But wait, no, really…six weeks? That long?” thing, which gets tiresome after a while. Is it so much to ask that, you know, a given period of time, having passed, actually feels like said amount of time has passed? (Okay, ignore the clunky grammar there, you know what I meant.)

But I guess no amount of complaining will change the fact that October’s here, and my, what a month it’s shaping up to be. Let’s take a look at the schedule ’round these parts, shall we?

Continue reading ‘A study in caffiene dependency’

There’s a lesson here, isn’t there?

Apartment hunting is some crazy business, let me tell you.

It’s particularly crazy since I just came on board this venture with a couple of fellow Interior Design majors, oh, two days ago or so. It happened sort of all at once: there I was in studio, minding my own business, not knowing what I’d be doing for housing next year, as long as it wasn’t the dorms, because enough already; the next thing I knew, there were phone calls to realtors and viewing appointments being made, “Well, it’s $475 per person per month, but that includes utilities” this and “Oh man, I’ve never even heard of that street” that. It was just so sudden, and the market here moves so fast (so, naturally, we’re trying to keep up), that I’ve spent the past couple of days wandering around muttering things like “Furnishings included, no pets” to no one in particular and having dreams about palatial, Pottery Barn-esque houses with jacuzzis in all the bathrooms.

(Ironically enough, I initially mistyped “no pets” as “no poets.” Hee.)

Continue reading ‘There’s a lesson here, isn’t there?’

You would think

You would think that your typical cinderblock dorm wall would, you know, do its job and act as a thermal, visual, and, most importantly, acoustical barrier between your room and your neighbor’s room, because your neighbor is a theater major, one of the ones who started out in Musical Theater but ended up getting shunted into Acting for whatever reason, and has this thing for singing showtunes very loudly and not…prettily, so it’s a good thing that thick concrete wall is there.

You would, however, have to think again.

You would think that the nice, heavy, all-metal, vintage-style fan, which you bought for about half price at The Great Indoors because it was a floor model and all the other new-in-box faux-vintage fans were ridiculously expensive and you’re just a poor college student who nonetheless demands stylish and affordable air-moving solutions, would be just fine sitting on a windowsill with the window open and a bit of a breeze moving through, because: heavy.


But, apparently, you would have to think again.

You would think that, um, a friend of yours, who has spent the past several weeks bemoaning the oppressive heat and humidity of the Central New York summer and annoying his friends by whining constantly about how Colorado weather is a dry heat and it’s absolutely perfect ALL THE TIME never mind those little thunderstorms it’s so much better why can’t I go baaaack, would look upon the arrival of a nice, chilly, westerly wind (see above re: fan) as an auspicious herald of cooler days, relief from the sauna of the previous week, and not as a harbinger of winter doomsday and reason to gripe about being cold.

You would, of course, have to think again.


Yesterday evening, I was slogging my way through a couple of highly technical readings for a class. They were in .pdf format, so I opted to read them on my laptop rather than spend the ink to print them out – I would generally prefer to read from a tactile object, but I had already used half of my brand-new black cartridge printing previous readings for the same class, which, “thanks,” professor. Anyway, there I was, hunched in front my computer reading an essay titled “A Cognitive-Historical Perspective in Human Computer Interaction” or something like that, ruining my retinas, listening to iTunes on shuffle, just waiting until the page count at the bottom of the Adobe Reader hit that magic “16 of 16.” Another night at SU.

And then something weird happened. The lyric in the song playing at the moment (Joanna Newsom’s “Only Skin”) hit the word “pockets,” just as I read the exact same word in the essay.


Okay, okay. I mean, it wasn’t exactly an earth-shattering occurrence or anything, but there was just something about it I found fascinating – that tiny temporal crossroads, two completely disparate entities coinciding for the briefest of moments, crossing paths in some way. I sort of have a thing for small strangenesses like that; I’ll use some mildly uncommon word in a paper one day, and the next day a professor for a different class will use the same word in her lecture, and I’ll just think “…heh” to myself. I don’t know. I like noticing these things. It gives a certain layer of meaning to an otherwise totally mundane situation. It feels like sharing a secret with the universe.

Or maybe it’s just a coincidence and I am, as per usual, reading way too much into it. You know, whichever.