Oberlin Blogs

Tonight: Music party at Harkness, with Andrew Gombas, Birthday Kids, and Dos Mil Días De Fuego. Before that, I saw Spring Back, a dance show, so it's been... a long night. My ears hurt. My thighs hurt. I am super-duper happy.

I read that sentence again and again, then ran outside to my backyard, where my dad was doing some spring yard work and making pleasant small talk with the neighbors over the fence, and I promptly yelled to the skies, "I'm going to college!"

Upon return to campus after spring break, students receive a pleasant reminder for fall registration. "What? This soon? I'm still slaving through a disastrous spring semester, everything is about to start moving twice as quickly as before, how could I even THINK of next fall?" you think.

You pick up some Yiddish at Oberlin, for those of you coming from places like Columbia, Missouri, or those of you too young to remember Linda Richman.

For some reason, that computer program for writing Western musical scores didn't want to comply to my demands that it blend with Indian ways of notating music. I'm not really sure why it was so stubborn.

Everyone is attractive, even when you have no idea what gender they are.

For the record, I am already scared of this story, but hearing it retold in such a dark and echoey space, preluded by an organ piece played in a dark room, well, it was amazing and nerve-wracking. It was the coolest shoot I've even been involved in.

Some seem to think I've strayed from the original purpose of the blog--giving prospies an unmediated account of Obie life--yet here are the ways my experiences here in Arizona have a great deal to do with far-off Oberlin.

One of the questions I get on tours is "What's an average day like, for an Oberlin student?" This is, of course, one of the most difficult questions ever.

The experience served to strengthen my conviction as an omnivore and made me truly realize the importance of the hunter-gatherer culture that had been passed down by our forebears. It didn't hurt that the chicken was also some of the best I had ever eaten.

That extra dash of terror because I don't really know what will happen next in my part is always exciting.

If someone told me six months ago that for spring break of my senior year I would be living on a farm in rural Kentucky for nine days with scarcely any internet or phone and sharing a room with eleven people I had never met before, I would have laughed in their face. All I can say is what a difference a week makes.