Oberlin Blogs

Why do so many Oberlin students double or triple major? I really want to know.

My colleagues and I looked at each other in astonishment. No, we mumbled almost apologetically, we're sorry, but that is not a problem we tend to have.

Tomorrow will be my first opportunity to listen to my completed mix, The Long Road Home. That last leg that seems to last oh-so-long will be much quicker this time.

So, when everyone started talking about their plans for winter term in that "I'm really trying to avoid my finals work so I'm going to talk to many people I haven't talked to much this semester" time in December, I had a great name to toss into conversation, even if I didn't really know what I'd be doing yet.

I've been running this entire last year on pure adrenaline. I know why, though, and it's because the life of an artist is a long and penniless road.

I don't know what it is about giving a speech that makes it so affecting, its ability to connect with and instill hope and pride in the hearts of listeners. All I knew at the time was that it was something I had to experience doing.

I know your parents don't want to hear this, but Oberlin students use a bunch of dirty language. One of our favorites is work .

Once people get over the novelty of Dorothy jokes and tornado questions - inevitable, I've learned, when I'm outside of my home state and meeting new people - it's actually pretty cool to be from somewhere unusual. Especially when I get the opportunity to share my hometown and state with other Obies, many of whom have never even been so far west.

I think a die a little bit every time someone uses the word Obie to describe a person who goes to Oberlin (as in: We Obies love to hate things ). I think The Grape --one of Oberlin College's many publications--described the word as (and I'm paraphrasing here) "used only by The Review and the Admissions Department."

A couple days ago, I decided that I would take advantage of all of the free time I have on my hands and set out to Tigre, a city located in the delta of the Paraná River, a half-hour train ride from downtown Buenos Aires. I got lost exploring the island, but it was worth it.

. . . in a style reminiscent of XKCD!

During fall orientation, while moving all my belongings from storage to my room, I got a phone call inviting me to Thanksgiving. And due to the sheer wonderfulness of this family, and their foresight, I accepted. I knew that my Thanksgiving would feel like home with the Albrechts.