All Hallow's Eve

With Halloween almost upon us, and blog topics running slim, I spent some time thinking about the holiday, and what it has meant to me over the years. When I was little, my sister K and I would beg daddy to let us carve our little masterpieces on the front porch. We would wield our daggers, dangerously grabbing them with our untrained hands until dad would rush over to guide us, suggesting that maybe we trace our desired design, and allow him to do the grunt work. Ok, daddy. Mommy would collect the sticky bowls of seeds and bake them while we worked away, daddy's little minions. Trick-or-treating was an event, to say the least, with carefully planned routes to hit all of the full-sized candy bar houses, and those who offered more than three pieces per costume. But as time went on, bobbing for apples became just a spreader of diseases, and asking for candy felt awkward and bum-like. Trick-or-treating evolved quickly into illicit parties, or occasionally, and unfortunately, SAT prep course make-up sessions. And pumpkins, doctors, and teachers turned ever-too-quickly into slutty pumpkins, slutty doctors, and some very slutty teachers. I can't say I don't miss the childhood Halloweens, but these ones aren't so bad. Last year I experienced my first college Halloween, filled with deception, mystery, and excitement, but not without drama. One year later, and I guess you could say I've recovered, and am ready to face it again. Slutty...construction worker? Or something to that effect. All fingers crossed, maybe this year can top them all.

Purple: an Unrelated Title

My father once told me that being a good leader does not always mean doing what has been done before just because that is what has always been done, and that is what is expected. But, maybe "expected" isn't quite the right word. This is not to discredit my father, because he really is truly inspiring, and he is absolutely right. But maybe, in many cases, being a good leader means not doing what has been done before simply because it is what is accepted. People (and I use this very general word intentionally), at least in our society, have a tendency to judge, and to avoid their own judgment by conforming to some accepted ideal. Disclaimer: This is not a brooding rant to suggest that we should all rebel and be free spirits and lose all sense of structure in our society. This is merely an observation; one that I do not excuse myself from. I do not think in any way that I am exempt from either side of this rule: I judge, and I conform to those who judge. I fully admit that. But maybe, just by making small, incremental changes, we could change ourselves and each other and create a more positive environment. Every time one human is swayed by the behavior of another, we create an epic domino effect. Sometimes that affect is positive. For example, a viral video promoting the support towards a cure for breast cancer. And sometimes, quite often, the effect is negative. We have come to follow each other, simply because it is easier, and because we avoid judgment this way. I do want to be a good leader, and a strong self-advocate. Maybe if we all thought for ourselves, trusted our own instincts, and did what we knew was right, everyone would smile just a little bit more.

Fall Break, Miami and Jungshin

"Cut, cut, cut!" yelled the instructor. "I want to see some strength behind those power cuts. Now drop your swords and give me 30 jumping jacks!"
All 10 of us placed our wooden sword replicas down between the healthy blades of grass and jumped. We were practicing the art of Jungshin, a modern mix between Eastern martial arts and Western exercise, where one focuses on the connection between man and weapon, and on building muscles you never thought you had, or at least, had never used before.
This was a new class offered at my parents' getaway condo in Miami Beach, where my boyfriend N and I were visiting them for fall break. I left the class fairly confident that I would not likely venture it again, but that is not to say that no lessons were learned, or experiences gained. And you know how much I love those lessons...
There was something almost therapeutic about the rhythm of the sword traveling up, back and down, over and over again. With each strike, the silhouette of your target became more clear, and the burden of the weapon less apparent. The pain in your wrists and ache in your forearms faded with every added ounce of satisfaction in each completed swing. And in the simplicity of each symmetric set, there was a peacefulness, a wholesomeness, so very juxtapose to the aggression of the act.
I may enjoy the endorphin rush of a good run, or the muscle burn after a session of heavy lifting, but mixing things up can be good for anyone.

Lambda Alpha Chi

The 6 by 6 goal dropped to the floor of the shed with a heavy thud. I wiped my hands, turned out the lights, and closed the door.
"Well, that's a wrap." By 2:00 pm, our fall woman's lacrosse playday had come to as crisp an end as it began. But not without a fair share of action over the course of the morning. Our players ran hard, buzzed with the excitement of W.I.L.D. to come, and led us to a powerful win over Truman State University, and a close loss to Missouri Baptist University.
But this is my blog, not the school newspaper. So let's get down to the exciting stuff. You know that moment around the holidays when you spot that dreaded aunt from across the room at the Christmas party, and you lock eyes, and immediately regret it, because there she is, coming in for that big wet kiss? Ok, now picture that your aunt is a heavy rubber ball and she's coming at you at 40 miles per hour instead of 3. Now she's plummeting down the field, winding back, and you can feel the target forming right there on your knee, or maybe this time your shoulder. Really just anywhere there are no pads to save you. Obviously, you are no longer the awkward pre-teen at a family function, and you have become the goalie of a woman's lacrosse team, trembling in your boots, and clutching your stick for dear life. It's at that moment that you start to think that the words "slide" and "help her!" have lost all meaning in the English tongue. But that moment is short. In some rare twist of fate, you've caught the ball! Everyone is cheering, and you smile, and you yell "clear!" with the authority that you have earned! The air rushes back into your lungs, and you release the ball into a determined spiral towards your speedy open player. You know that at that moment, your actions are important in some small, yet significant, way.

I hadn't planned to write about lacrosse, only because I suppose it's not particularly interesting, funny, or noteworthy. Maybe by this point, you agree with me, and have stopped reading. But if you haven't, stay with me for the slightest bit longer.

Yesterday, back in Microeconomics, Prof H posed a question to the class: "How many people aren't really sure what they're after, or where they're going?"
Gingerly, the majority of the class began to raise their hands.
"Me too," he said. Then he smiled, and continued on with his point.

But my point is this: I do not know what I'm after, or where I'm going. And I would be willing to guess that you do not either. But if we can experience these singular, unrelated, seemingly unimportant events, and place meaning behind each action relating to another, who's to say we cannot string together, expand, and amplify these events into a meaningful collection of circumstances that might give us even the smallest hint of a direction to head towards.

A Day of Tay

I like Taylor Swift. I do not like Taylor Swift’s new song, Speak Now. She’s spunky, she’s cute, and her songs make my head bop, but listening to her simultaneously plagiarize herself yet attempt to be edgier makes my stomach turn. I just want to shake her and say, “Stop trying to be different! You’re so darn cute as a sellout! But maybe, possibly, take one tiny step away from that 1-4-5 chord progression…” On any ordinary occasion, this kind of letdown would not upset me in any meaningful way, but let’s just say, Taylor and I go way back. From my first heartbreak, to my first rejection, to first loves…Taylor has really been holding my hand through it all. I just couldn’t have done it without her right there to remind me that “when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them.” How wise, Tay. But really, I don’t think I’ve ever passed up a chance to belt along to one of her latest hits when driving alone on a sunny day with the windows down. And I will proudly admit that I own the majority of her released (and some unreleased!) songs. Fortunately, this disappointment is sure to fade when her new album drops, and I am distracted by the plethora of alluring hooks waiting to be heard.

Tests are Fun!

This morning I woke up casually at 10:30 am to the usual nauseating Emo music that is the result of putting my six-year-old iPod on shuffle. Embrace the humpday!, I thought. The suite was silent, since every normal student has class before noon, so I made my way to bathroom, adjusted my Dark Knight boxers and began to brush my teeth in the dark with my crayon toothbrush. Yes...my toothbrush is a crayon, because I am a 7-year-old boy. No, but let me explain. I ride a scooter to class, I have a Thomas the Tank Engine blanket, I love my onesie, and my roommates poke fun at me for eating Yobaby yogurt out of my monkey cup. Insert sarcastic child reversion comment. 

Needless to say, the sun was shining and I knew it was going to be a great day. How right indeed! I made my way to Microeconomics, picked up the exam and began to answer the 28 multiple choice questions. After 20 or so minutes of diligent test-taking, the professor made an announcement. But first, a bit of background on Prof H: he's ADHD and dyslexic. And that should just about do it for background. 

"Ok guys, this is taking too long. The essay portion of the test will be take-home." Is this real life?! A murmur broke out among the students, filled with sighs of relief and muffled giggles. I think the information confused people more than anything else. This is definitely not a common occurrence. Maybe my Engineering Math professor should take a cue from Prof H and give us take-home exams...if only.

First Post

Today is Tuesday and it is the day of my very first blog post. Everyone seems to have a blog these days. Most aren't particularly important, or rather, particularly interesting, and I don't expect that mine will be either. But, when your unemployed, slightly psychotic sister has one, you know it's time to jump on the bandwagon.

In case anyone is reading this, let me explain who is writing. My name is Sarah and I am a sophomore majoring in Systems Science & Engineering at Washington University in St. Louis. Ironically enough, that is also the first sentence of my cover letter, which has now been sent to over 30 companies, and over 20 professors begging them to please, someone, anyone, hire me. I toyed for a long time with starting a blog, but I could never pin down an interesting topic. I love music, I compete in triathlons, and I play lacrosse, but I figured that a blog documenting my daily workouts might get a little redundant...after a while. It occurred to me today that maybe writing something every few days (and not just something, but something composed enough to be read by others) might help me track my own progression and direction. Maybe when I figure out where this blog is going, I'll figure out where I'm going too.

Eventually, this blog will have a direction, and in time, a fitting title. But until then, Sarah is Untitled.