Oberlin Blogs

The last few weeks of the semester are always incredibly full with people working on final projects, last ExCo or club performances, studying their brains out, and attending study breaks to cram their brains back into their skulls.

boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away, beatin like a drum and it's comin your way, can't you hear that boom badoom boom boom badoom boom boom badoom boom bass, boom badoom boom boom badoom boom he got that super bass

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that sometime last week was Thanksgiving Day in the United States. I really should have been aware of this, given that my obsession with the festivities surrounding this November supper run astonishingly deep for someone who grew up in Zimbabwe where turkeys, if they ever existed there, had probably long buckled under societal pressure and just converted themselves into either chickens or cows or zebras in order to fit in.

November means many things for Oberlin: the typical college leaf piles, a strange flip-flopping in the weather from early-fall-crispness into Winter Is Coming ominousness. It also means that ExCo applications are due.

It's just like Julie Andrews says (sort of), "I simply list some of my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad!"

What's a safe space, you ask? Good question. I'm not sure either.

Ain't it funny how the night moves? And the day? And the weeks?

I never intended to end up on the roof of Peters. It just happened.

The womb chair, taken on the macro-scale, is an analogy for the soft, supportive, wonderful, dreamy bubble of Oberlin.

This year, I didn't get into a co-op. Where was I going to get my weekly serving of granola? How could I say goodbye to the cinder block-sized bricks of cheese that arrived every Wednesday? Was I going to waste away trying to cook all my meals for myself?

One needs laser sights attached to their clown wigs. Am I trying to do too much?

Zombies, Nerf guns, and many pictures. What else could you want?