I'm Christine, a third year in the college. As you can see, I have as much trouble choosing one hometown as I do declaring a major. By design, my schedule is distributed evenly between the humanities and natural sciences, so each department gets its say, for now. Oberlin has been very accommodating; professors (and their exams) push me to be good at [insert course here] without forcing me to specialize quite yet. Procrastination pulls me back the other way.
Considering both of the ghastly greenhouse habitats in which I spent any extended period of my childhood, I find myself strangely enamored with Oberlin's mercurial weather, particularly the days of freezing rain and temperatures around 50 degrees or below. I enjoy random conversations with strangers and good friends, whether in ink or over dinner. Preexisting diagnoses of peculiarity include the fact that I'm partial to pieces set in minor key and that, when nearing deadlines, I develop an idiopathic allergy to sound waves, such as the strumming of the ukulele.
If you see me around on campus, say hi. Tell me a story, or recommend a good book to me. Hopefully, but not probably, I won't be running late to class, America Reads meetings, elective lectures, or a rendezvous with lab opossums. Incidentally, if I employ the word "like" as an interjection, feel free to make the buzzer sound from Taboo. I'm trying to break myself of the habit.