tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84483435691237824862023-11-16T10:14:38.188-06:00Crazy in TuscaloosaJust a small-ish town girl, very occasionally blogging about life in the real world.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-28037869436080789382013-06-03T23:37:00.000-05:002013-06-04T06:39:19.291-05:00My Dr. Helms<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>
<w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>
<w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
</w:Compatibility>
</w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276">
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]-->
<!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:12.0pt;
font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is going to be very, very difficult to write.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tears are already welling up in my
eyes, much as they have been since I heard the terrible news this weekend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Friday night, the world lost one of the greatest people I
have ever known: the incomparable Dr. Billy Helms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He served as the head of the Economics, Finance, and Legal
Studies department at the University of Alabama for many years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But more importantly, he has served as my
mentor for the last five years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, I had no idea how much he would mean to me when
we met my freshman year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those
of you who didn’t know me then, or who might’ve forgotten, let me sum up
freshman Stephanie in one word: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">lost</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started at Alabama as a chemical
engineering major; after all, I wasn’t going to let a little thing like hating
chemistry and engineering stand in my way!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t enjoy my classes, my professors, or (to be frank)
my fellow students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stress
built up so much that one engineering professor sent me to see a psychologist
at the counseling center just months into my first semester.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Second semester, I didn’t sign up for a single engineering
class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got a letter from the
school of engineering saying I would lose my extra scholarship money if I
didn’t rectify the situation, but I could not have cared less.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was free!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just one tiny problem… I no longer had a major, or even a
college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The College of Arts &
Sciences sounded unrestrictive enough for me, so I made an appointment to be
advised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt like such a sheep,
a number, nothing more than another 15-minute obligation on someone’s
calendar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I left my appointment feeling
defeated and more lost than ever.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then one day, I realized I kind of enjoyed my required
microeconomics class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since
I’d already given up on Arts & Sciences, I figured I might as well talk to
somebody in the College of Commerce & Business Administration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One fateful day, I made my way to the
third floor of Alston Hall for the first time; walked into the Economics, Finance,
and Legal Studies office; and asked to speak to somebody about majoring in
economics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was the day I met
Dr. Helms.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wasn’t handed a pamphlet or asked to make an appointment
for a later date.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dr. Helms, with
that incredibly warm smile of his, welcomed me into his office right then and
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t remember exactly
how long I stayed, but I know I walked out with the next three years of my
academic life planned for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dr. Helms and his not so “invisible hand” (he was a finance
guy, after all) started guiding me then, and I happily accepted the
direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t even begin to
guess how many times I went to visit his third floor office after that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I would go by just to
chat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other times to get advised (under
the table) so I wouldn’t have to go to talk to some stranger in Bidgood.
Sometimes I would go to complain about how hard a course was and how I was
going to fail (or, just as bad, get a B).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He would listen patiently for a minute or two before he told me how
ridiculous I was being, how easy the course was, and how I was much too smart
to be challenged by the courses I complained about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could do anything because Dr. Helms believed in me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pushed me to be the best; he made me
<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">my best.</span></i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is the reason I
majored in economics and added a second major in math.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never could quite convince me to go
the finance route or to be a University Scholar (get my bachelor’s and master’s
degree concurrently), but let it be known that he tried.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he got his way when it came to most
of the courses I took from sophomore year through grad school.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every year, Dr. Helms hosted an honors barbecue in his
backyard for all the top economics and finance students.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was always one of my favorite days
of the year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My senior year, I was
one of four Austin Cup scholars; I was top student for the Economics and
Finance Department, and the other three scholars were the top students in their
departments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As if that honor
wasn’t enough, I was named the winner of the Austin Cup for top student in the entire
business school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not being
modest when I say that Dr. Helms is the reason I won that award.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He nominated me, and I know he fought
for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">so proud </b>when he handed me that award,
and I was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">so thankful</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I walked away from the podium with
my ridiculous trophy, he commented that there would be pictures later because,
<i>“We want to be famous someday because we are associated with you.”</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><i> </i> </span>I loved that man.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just a few weeks after that barbecue was the tornado that
ravaged Tuscaloosa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My community
was devastated, and my senior year came to an abrupt end.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d somehow neglected to make any solid
post-graduation plans myself, but luckily Dr. Helms had convinced me to apply
for graduate school at Alabama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
also nominated me for a Graduate Council Fellowship that allowed me to go to
graduate school for free with an unbelievable stipend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In summary, he is the reason I have a bachelor’s
degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is the reason I have a
master’s degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is the reason
I have a career.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To say that I owe
him a lot is a gross understatement; I owe him everything.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My story is not unique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, my little brother Scotty was lucky enough to follow
in my footsteps and have Dr. Helms’ guidance for the last three years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Dr. Helms even convinced him to one-up
me by getting his bachelor’s and master’s degrees in four years).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Scotty and I are just two of the
thousands of students who Dr. Helms impacted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I never felt
like one of thousands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He always
made me feel special and instilled so much confidence in me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so sad for the students who won’t
have that support now that he’s gone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was fortunate enough to go back to Tuscaloosa in April
with Mom and Scotty for one last barbecue (my fifth) at Dr. Helm’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He only gave out two awards that night,
but he made sure to call me out in front of the entire crowd when another
student won this year’s Austin Cup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I was so glad to be there to see him and tell him all about my job and
just talk to him one last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course, I didn’t know it would be the last time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And he was so full of life, as always, that I never could’ve
guessed it would be the last time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am so angry at cancer for taking him away far too
soon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But I am determined to carry on his legacy somehow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know he’s always with me, and I just
hope to make him proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d like
to think that all he’d want is for me to live a happy life, but who am I kidding?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b><i>He has much higher expectations than
that.</i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll miss you, Dr. Helms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank
you.</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04swetCx6bnYggaw7FBL6uYN6Ep4MTDDxKTA_Cyju_w-8MgJ_O0keFlpx1_teW91F-HnrzUWbMQyBlhYeuMWyWUdhxVSKtxx2GjW4fakX4LcmEFce3Pfz0-APg_96wZzfzcJGoaXYKqc/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04swetCx6bnYggaw7FBL6uYN6Ep4MTDDxKTA_Cyju_w-8MgJ_O0keFlpx1_teW91F-HnrzUWbMQyBlhYeuMWyWUdhxVSKtxx2GjW4fakX4LcmEFce3Pfz0-APg_96wZzfzcJGoaXYKqc/s320/photo-2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my mentor. April 7, 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdYPdhDnu266fU3s8k3jAOp22jyx50tiCzyDHHIczGrfgXv1wf8f-rBqq7HWXQajpxzDfoihopquO_uE3RJiotAylDbtrXQpJvpiyNn2O9h0VnOUUYNOEneGfqlu1xPHXWbJ7XPJerpc/s1600/photo-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOdYPdhDnu266fU3s8k3jAOp22jyx50tiCzyDHHIczGrfgXv1wf8f-rBqq7HWXQajpxzDfoihopquO_uE3RJiotAylDbtrXQpJvpiyNn2O9h0VnOUUYNOEneGfqlu1xPHXWbJ7XPJerpc/s320/photo-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was so happy and proud for my honor. Of course, he is the one who deserved to be honored.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCDCPfmbQJB-mtS4GHXU31OkV9BvtRB6H9UQOZ-xZxknYfu2HZ-ntKi24QJZbTyqhdy7rUb2fiZZOw3Uh0SmFZwhwcrVtnv7-9S4PD-b-ckcGCjdP4wUovlTrn0QBmHG6lYMhIcV6KGs/s1600/photo+(26).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrCDCPfmbQJB-mtS4GHXU31OkV9BvtRB6H9UQOZ-xZxknYfu2HZ-ntKi24QJZbTyqhdy7rUb2fiZZOw3Uh0SmFZwhwcrVtnv7-9S4PD-b-ckcGCjdP4wUovlTrn0QBmHG6lYMhIcV6KGs/s320/photo+(26).jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Helms will always be family.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBOET8zCogPIQqqo78Fy6TBTr7n0VxfQkWHkUC9xuUEvAuh8as9qp1qiRvrcvcvTLwWR9cB5vIu8SgqWdtVtOkDwEnefnn-LtkiTv9Rx0wJkWSKpAW6MPExE2mYlecIt7PgcOUAifN1A0/s1600/IMG_3895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBOET8zCogPIQqqo78Fy6TBTr7n0VxfQkWHkUC9xuUEvAuh8as9qp1qiRvrcvcvTLwWR9cB5vIu8SgqWdtVtOkDwEnefnn-LtkiTv9Rx0wJkWSKpAW6MPExE2mYlecIt7PgcOUAifN1A0/s320/IMG_3895.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Always proud of his Austin Cup winners. And he demanded that he and I be in the center of this picture. <3 April 5, 2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<!--EndFragment-->smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-69221640790249030172012-06-21T11:54:00.002-05:002012-06-21T11:57:54.987-05:00Moving Up and Moving On<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is Thursday, June 21, 2012. I am in my hometown of Madison, Alabama, sitting at my mom’s
kitchen table while Louie sleeps at my feet. It’s a pretty normal (post grad school) scene for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But very soon, I’ll have to find a new normal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last Saturday, I said goodbye to Tuscaloosa, the city I’ve
called home for the past five years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This Saturday, I’ll be saying goodbye to Madison, the city
I’ve called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">home</i> home for more than
20 years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ll be packing the last of my belongings into my car and
hitting the road, trying not to cry as I embark on my trip to my new home:
Cincinnati, Ohio.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When my 6 ½ hour trip is finished, I’ll be unloading my
things into the place I’ll be living for at least the next two years (Pictures coming
soon!). Then, I’ll be settling in
for a day before starting my first real job bright and early Monday morning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m moving to Cincinnati.” I say these words out loud, sometimes to myself and
sometimes to other people, multiple times a day. “I’m moving. To
Cincinnati.” That just doesn’t
sound right. “I’m. Moving. To.
Cincinnati.” Nope, still not
processing it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was born in California, but I don’t have any real memories
before my family moved to Alabama.
This state has been my sweet home since February of 1992.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the infamous words of Jessie Spano, “I’m so excited! I’m so … scared.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m anxious. About leaving my friends and family, starting
my job, paying my own bills, making new friends, being an adult.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But mostly, I’m excited about all those things. It’s time to take a step forward.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The past year wasn’t fantastic; graduate school was a weird,
lonely, exhausting, unsettled time.
But now I am twenty-two with a master’s degree, and I have the
opportunity to put my years of education to good use!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Furthermore, I have the opportunity to build a life for
myself sans school. It's time, and I'm ready.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So goodbye for now, Alabama! And hello, Ohio!<br />
<br />
(Does this mean I have to change the name of my blog?)</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-55215893736063759622012-04-27T09:29:00.000-05:002012-04-27T09:30:44.304-05:00T-Town, Never Down<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I haven’t wanted to write in a while, and to be honest I still don’t have the right words now.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Today is April 27,
2012; one year ago was April 27,
2011, a day this city will never forget.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I remember every
detail of that day before the storm; it was all so important at the time.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It began as a beautiful Wednesday
of dead week (much too aptly named in this case).</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I went to El
Rincon for an end-of-the-year lunch with my indoor rock climbing class. </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I ate huevos
rancheros and paid full price (for the first time ever) for a margarita.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I returned to my second-floor apartment off 15th St. to nap until my 3:30 class.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I couldn’t fall
asleep, so I grabbed my finance book to start studying for finals.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I made Scotty come out in the living room to watch James Spann with me.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The weather looked scary; we waited for the University to cancel classes.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I didn't want to move from the couch to go to finance and econometrics.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I didn't expect Tuscaloosa to be hit; it is just not something you expect.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Jonathan came over, and we decided to skip still-not-canceled classes.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The University sent an e-mail (I still think too late) canceling classes.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Then the tornado touched down; it was so close but a world away.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
James Spann warned us to take cover, and we were all scared.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I nervously moved to the dining room, far from the windows.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Scotty, much braver than me, looked out those windows.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
He saw the tornado that was on TV outside, too close.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
He said we should run, but I was in utter shock.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I couldn't fully grasp the storm's imminence.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I put on shoes and locked the front door.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We sprinted to the nearby clubhouse.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We joined neighbors in a closet.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We closed the door behind us.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The air pressure changed.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We braced ourselves.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The tornado passed.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We had survived.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We walked out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Devastation.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Disbelief.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
4/27/11.</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-35257224499872678992012-01-15T16:18:00.001-06:002012-01-15T23:48:30.711-06:00Ciao 2011! Ciao 2012!<div class="MsoNormal">Well, I did it once again. I fell off the face of the blogging earth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It happens.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But I want to make a little more effort to keep up with this creative outlet in this (still sort of) new year. Promise!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And what better way to start back than with a cheesy new year’s post?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The beginning of a year is always exciting. Even though almost nothing inherently changes, other than the date we all write on our papers and checks, there is something liberating about the implied fresh start.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I don’t think I’ve ever been so ready to say goodbye to a year. 2011 was easily the most difficult year of my life.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In 2011 I coped with the loss of my grandmother, narrowly avoided the deadly path of the tornado that devastated Tuscaloosa, went without a car for months, dealt with rejection in what seemed like a never-ending job search, and struggled through my first semester of grad school (with many of my closest friends gone from Tuscaloosa).</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The year wasn’t all bad, though. I got the chance to share an apartment with my little brother (I might have been alone during the tornado if that weren’t the case.), had a fantastic last semester of undergrad with great friends, enjoyed being 21, went to Mardi Gras, met Guster, graduated from The University of Alabama, was the maid of honor in my best friend’s wedding, got a great fellowship for grad school, traveled to exciting places like Alaska and DC and Dallas and New York, finally landed the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">perfect</i></b> job (for me), got an adorable new puppy (Louie!), and made beaucoups of new friends.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In spite of everything, someday I’m sure I’ll look back at 2011 and smile.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As for 2012, I hope it’s one of the best years of my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It certainly started out amazingly! I traveled to New Orleans with my mom, uncle, and brother and witnessed Alabama win its 14<sup>th</sup>, or 9<sup>th</sup> if you want to be politically correct, National Championship. (When I finally upload pictures, that trip will obviously be getting its own post.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In a way, the rest of 2012 is all laid out for me. The plan is to work my butt off and finish graduate school in May then move to Cincinnati for my new job sometime in the summer.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m keeping my eyes on that ultimate destination, but I plan to enjoy the scenery along the way as much as possible. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After all, this is more than likely my last semester as a student <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">EVER. </b>And I am just now getting the hang of it! (Kidding, mostly.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">These may even be my last few months as a resident of Alabama. Before you know it, I just might be a card-carrying Yankee!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So here’s to 2012, a year of endings and of beginnings. I hope to keep you all updated on this crazy journey!</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-17220616138313263352011-09-05T15:02:00.000-05:002011-09-05T15:02:28.556-05:00PerspectiveI have a long list of things I should be doing, but I am choosing to write this blog because that is what I want to do right now. And darn it, that's what matters.<br />
<br />
I just drove back from Madison to Tuscaloosa in Tropical Storm Lee. It was terrifying. I swear my life flashed before my eyes a couple times when I was driving 45 on the interstate blinded by the rain or when I was having to slam on my breaks to avoid accidents or obliviously law-breaking drivers without their lights on.<br />
<br />
I haven't been this scared for my life since I was crammed in that closet with fifteen or so people on April 27.<br />
<br />
And being scared for your life really puts things in perspective. As a 22 year old (in four days), I don't often dwell on my own mortality. I'm young, just starting graduate school, too busy with fall semester and football season to die. Right?<br />
<br />
Even after losing my grandma to cancer almost nine months ago, and even though I miss her every single day, death still isn't real to me.<br />
<br />
But the truth is people my age die every day. Freak accidents, diseases, natural disasters. Our life can be taken from us without a moment's notice.<br />
<br />
Just over a week ago, I went with friends to the Tuscaloosa Remembers memorial service honoring the lives taken by the tornado on April 27. Dr. Witt, Coach Grant, and Coach Saban all spoke about the impact that day has had on our University and the entire community.<br />
<br />
Something that Coach Saban said, in particular, stuck with me. "Every day, we should appreciate the opportunity that we have to accomplish and affect something." He told all the students at the service that we should be grateful to be alive and that we should be living our lives to the fullest, something that the six UA students killed by the tornado can no longer do.<br />
<br />
We all really are so blessed, aren't we? To have this opportunity to <b>live</b>. <br />
<br />
I want to make the most of it. I want to do things that make me happy. I want to help others. I don't want to do things because they are expected of me but because they are right. I don't want to be complacent. I want to explore and take chances every day. I want to live for those who can't.<br />
<br />
I watched an old movie called "Holiday" with my mom, grandpa, and uncles yesterday. The movie, which was made in 1938, stars Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn. Grant's character has been working since he was ten years old and now wants to make just enough money so that he can take a long holiday... while he's still young enough to enjoy it. Not a bad idea. (Though perhaps a bit impractical during the Great Depression.)<br />
<br />
I definitely don't want to put off happiness now so that I can have it later. Today could be my last chance. Or yours. <br />
<br />
Think about it.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-83649944313035486602011-08-22T19:04:00.001-05:002011-08-22T19:42:51.288-05:00Playing Catch Up<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">None of you is less surprised than me that I have let this blog die over the course of the summer. Me having too much free time leads to me watching entire seasons of shows rather than even feigning productivity.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">But as I sit on my couch less than three hours before my graduate school orientation (I wrote this earlier today but am just now posting it as I steal Internet.), I have a sudden urge to write about everything that has happened in the past few months. For your sake, I’ll just hit the highlights.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">1. I went to <b>Alaska</b>! I could’ve sworn I wrote about this already, but I guess I’m losing my mind. Scotty and I went on a business trip with our mom and got to experience Alaska’s natural beauty and delightfully cool weather for a week. Fairbanks and Fort Greely, two of the places we stayed, were admittedly very boring. But Denali was beautiful and made the entire trip more than worth it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I saw wolves and moose and bears, oh my! (Yes, I have made this joke before. It’s still funny.) And every way you turned was a view even more beautiful than the one before. You could see those views anytime you wanted, too, because the sun never really set the whole time we were there. I would absolutely go back to Alaska, but it would have to be in the summer again; this Alabama girl is not cut out for negative anything temperatures!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">2. I got my <b>car </b>back. Amen and hallelujah, y’all. I have not stopped thinking all summer about how lucky I was to not be injured or completely displaced by the tornado. But it was torture not having my car for 9 weeks! I went from enjoying total freedom my senior year of college to being immobile at my mom’s house most of the summer. Not my idea of fun. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Unfortunately, the shop did a pretty shoddy job on my car. My (after market) back window was ridiculously warped; it was dangerous driving because looking at my rearview mirror was looking through a carnival mirror. A shop in Huntsville replaced that window and repainted/fixed parts that the first shop hadn’t done right. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Again unfortunately, the saga isn’t quite over yet. Now that I’m back in Tuscaloosa, I’m supposed to contact my insurance company again to have my car reassessed and probably fixed again. But I’m not even that mad; mostly I am just happy to be mobile again! And to still have the car that Grandma worked so hard to get me. It’s a blessing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">3. My best friend got <b>married</b>! (I was the maid of honor, and this will probably get another more detailed post soon. With pictures!) Katie is now a Coppens, and none of us could be happier. My weekends in July were pleasantly consumed by a bridal tea, lingerie shower, bridesmaid luncheon, and bachelorette party. And those were some of the best weekends of my life! It was great spending time with Katie, her family, family friends, and my fellow bridesmaids. What an unbelievable month!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Then came the weekend of August 6. Friday was the rehearsal and the rehearsal dinner. It’s no secret that I can get a little emotional, but I was a wreck that night! When Katie walked down the aisle to her entrance song during the rehearsal, I pretty much started bawling. Katie’s dad and Zack’s dad told me I would have to hold it together during the actual wedding or they might both lose it, too! </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I also got entirely too emotional during the speeches at the rehearsal dinner. Zack’s dad got me crying right before I was supposed to talk, but somehow I held it together during my maid of honor speech. But I cried again during Jake’s, Katie’s dad’s, and Zack’s sister’s speeches. It messed up all the real makeup I had bought specifically for this weekend!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Wedding day was also an emotional rollercoaster, but it was one of the best days of my life. Katie was <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">literally </i></b>the most beautiful bride ever in history of the world. No, I’m not biased. I broke down right before the wedding seeing her in her wedding dress, but I mostly held it together during the actual ceremony. It was hard to keep my lip from quivering, though. But all the emotions were happy ones, and the ceremony was incredible. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">After the I do’s (actually, I wills), we went over the Limestone Springs to dance the night away. I cried AGAIN during Katie and Zack’s first dance and when Katie danced with her dad and Zack danced with his mom. But it’s their fault for choosing such emotional songs! The music was great and the reception was a blast, and I cried for the last time when the newlyweds drove away in the Rolls Royce. It was perfect!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">4. Just the Wednesday after Katie’s wedding I went to <b>D.C. and New York</b> with my good friend, and former across the hall neighbor, Matt. We went to D.C. to visit Chris, another very good friend (and another across the hall neighbor). Chris is going to Georgetown this year ( :) / :( ), and Matt and I took it upon ourselves to help him get settled in. Not like actually helping him set up his house but more like having tons of fun and forcing him to be our tour guide. Basically the same thing, right? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Either way, we had loads of fun in D.C. (and ate at my new favorite restaurant Roti… like Mediterranean Chipotle) for a day or so before Matt and I took the Bolt Bus to New York to stay with his friend Josh for a couple of days. We navigated the subway system, ate dinner at Shake Shack, saw Times Square, slept in Brooklyn, ate real New York bagels, spent hours walking in Central Park, took an entire afternoon (still, not nearly enough time) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, ate dinner in Little Italy, again spent the night in Brooklyn, walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, ate some not so real New York pizza, and took the Bolt Bus back to D.C. It’s exhausting just writing that, but it was so much fun! I don’t know if I could live in New York, but I would love to visit for longer.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">When we got back to D.C. on Saturday night, it was time for our last big hoorah. We ate Afghan food (YUM!) and then hit the town with three other UA folks. It was a glorious night, and it ended with late-night empanadas. Perfection. Sunday was spent touring Georgetown, eating delicious cupcakes at Baked and Wired, schmoozing with important UA grads, touring monuments, and finishing it all off with a bottle of wine that we risked our lives in a storm for. Monday we went to Ben’s Chili Bowl (where the Obama family and Bill Cosby eat free), saw the Constitution and Declaration of Independence, toured more monuments, and then sadly had to pack up and leave. All in all, it was a great way to spend some of the last days before we all get sucked into the grad school vortex.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">5. Speaking of the <b>grad school</b> vortex, these are quite literally the last words I will write before I am sucked into it. There are less than two hours now until orientation. I realized I never fully disclosed my graduate school plans, mostly because I didn’t make those plans until after the tornado. After April 27, I just couldn’t see leaving Tuscaloosa behind quite yet. So I accepted a fellowship, found an apartment, and went home to relax for the summer. Now, nearly four months later, I have moved back to Tuscaloosa to make good on my word. For the next twelve months, I will be working toward a Master’s degree in Applied Economics. I know it may sound terrible, but darn it, it’s practical. And somebody has to fix our economy, right?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">15 hours this semester. Here’s to the end of my social life as I know it! Thank goodness my summer was so outstanding. Roll Tide.</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-70584157553362998372011-06-30T12:22:00.001-05:002011-06-30T12:27:44.283-05:00RAGINGAs you can probably tell from the title, this post is not going to be a happy one. But I am going to ease you, wonderful readers, into my anger slowly.<br />
<br />
First, let me apologize for not writing in an entire month (especially during the summer, when I am really not that busy). I planned to write about my Alaska trip but never got around to it. I do plan on writing about it soon, but first there is something else I need to address:<br />
<br />
Just exactly how <b><u>angry</u></b> I am at UA.<br />
<br />
I woke up to a tweet from one of my best friends, Caroline, that one of our favorite restaurants in Tuscaloosa has closed down. It saddens me to say that restaurant is Crimson Cafe.<br />
<br />
I can't pinpoint the first time I ate at Crimson Cafe, but I know it was during my freshman year at UA. Their food was great, especially the pizza bagels Katie and I always got and their drinks and lemon squares. I loved that they had enough vegetarian options to keep me full and happy!<br />
<br />
Admittedly, I often purchased my food with Dining Dollars. (I used my debit card or cash when I could, though, because they offered a 20% discount for doing so!)<br />
<br />
Sadly, those Dining Dollars are the main reason that The Crimson Cafe is shutting down after 18 years of business. Here is the <a href="http://www.tuscaloosanews.com/article/20110630/NEWS/110629605/1007?p=1&tc=pg">link to the Tuscaloosa News article</a> explaining exactly why they are closing. To summarize, Crimson Cafe must pay Aramark 21% of all Dining Dollar transactions. <b>TWENTY-ONE PERCENT. </b><br />
<br />
<b></b>While I understand that Crimson Cafe chose to take Dining Dollars (originally paying Aramark 15 percent of transactions sometime in the 1990's), it is clear they had to make this choice to stay in business. When students are your target demographic, you have to do whatever you can to keep them coming back.<br />
<br />
Students are paying with their tuition, not by choice, to get $300 in Dining Dollars each semester. I've heard the argument that you can get that money back at the end of the year if you don't spend it all, but that doesn't matter in the moment when the only food money some students have is their Dining Dollars. They have no choices other than to buy food at inflated prices on campus or to dine at one of the few restaurants that accepts Dining Dollars.<br />
<br />
Most students aren't aware that over twenty percent of their money is going not to the restaurants they patronize but instead to the ever-looming Aramark. I, personally, would prefer that <b>my money</b> pay for <b>my food. </b> Call me crazy, but that's how I feel. Aramark has taken over dining on and around campus, and it disgusts me.<br />
<br />
It really upsets me that my school, The University of Alabama, did nothing to help Crimson Cafe. Especially after the tornado! The administration can try to shift blame to Aramark, but the truth is that they hired them to monopolize dining. The Strip is losing so much of what UA students love, and our school has no desire to stop it. In fact, maybe the University is happy to see another local business gone. They sure seemed to want <a href="http://cw.ua.edu/2011/03/09/lai-lai-set-to-close-by-this-summer/">Lai Lai off the Strip</a> earlier this year!<br />
<br />
When I drive through campus and the surrounding area with my mom, she barely recognizes anything. The Strip is completely different than it was when she was at UA not so long ago, and I don't think that's a good thing. As if the tornado didn't steal enough from our community on April 27! Now it seems we're stealing from ourselves.<br />
<br />
For such a historic school, our administration seems to have no interest in preserving anything that they're not profiting from. I was a business major and understand how businesses work, but The University of Alabama is not a business. First and foremost, it is an institution of higher learning; I feel like what I'm learning is that unique small businesses have no place in the area surrounding UA.<br />
<br />
Hopefully Alabama will make sure another fun chain restaurant or leasing office opens up in Crimson Cafe's spot!smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-45827928682142527452011-05-31T16:28:00.002-05:002011-05-31T16:34:32.631-05:00Cotton Row RunThis post will not be as long as the last one, promise. Even my uncle wasn't patient enough to read through the whole thing without sighing every once in a while. Halfway through he said, "Couldn't you have just written, 'I love animals,' or something?" I guess that would be a very concise summary of how I feel! Haha.<br />
<br />
Anyway, now I will start writing about what this post is actually supposed to be about: my 5K yesterday! (My excitement is totally fake.)<br />
<br />
My mom is much healthier than I am, and she recently rediscovered how much she loves to exercise. She does zumba, yoga, and other classes at the gym, and she also decided to take up running a few months ago using a "Couch to 5K" app on her iPhone.<br />
<br />
We are not exactly runners in this family, but Mom definitely has the long legs, unlike me, and potential to be one! She gets up ridiculously early (I'm talking 5-5:30 AM) to fit in her training runs before work. Her app started with intervals of walking and running, and by the end of it she was able to run nonstop for something like 45 minutes. Ridiculous!<br />
<br />
Near the beginning of her running, she asked Scotty (my younger brother) and me if we would want to run a 5K with her. My first reaction was no because I hate running, but we both decided to do it to support Mom. She even bought me really nice running shoes to encourage me to run. I planned to start the Couch to 5K program myself, but that never happened.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, Memorial Day, was the day of the <a href="http://www.huntsvilletrackclub.org/HTC_Races/crr/crr_11_mg.html">Cotton Row Run</a>. There is a 10K for the serious runners, a 5K, and a mile fun run. Scotty and I joked that we should've signed up for the mile run since neither of us was prepared to run 3.1 miles. Okay, maybe it wasn't joking.<br />
<br />
We got to downtown Huntsville, where the race has been held for the past 31 years, at 8 AM to make sure we could find a place to park. There were super-intimidating/impressive, skinny, sweaty runners from the 7 AM 10K recovering everywhere near the finish line. A lot of them were resting and refueling so they could run the 5K at 9 AM. Seriously?<br />
<br />
My mom, her morning running buddy, Scotty, and I all stretched and tried to mentally prepare for the race. We tried to stay in the shade because it was ridiculously hot and sunny already. It was around 80 degrees during the 5K race, possibly the hottest it's ever been for the Cotton Row Run, and probably not good for a first-time 5K runner/walker.<br />
<br />
The race was not so fun for me. I really should've gone for at least one run anytime in the past few years to prepare! Haha. I ran for the first half mile or so, but then there was plenty of alternating between walking and running. It took me almost 41 minutes (40:48) to finish. Don't make fun of me, okay? I think I could've powerwalked the whole thing faster; my walking was really slow because I was hunched over and cramping from dehydration. Pathetic.<br />
<br />
I was incredibly proud of Mom, though! She was so nervous before the race that she wouldn't be able to do what she had been working so hard for the past few months. I found her after the race, and she told me she had finished in 34 minutes! Her official time was 33:56. That's less than 11 minute miles. Yay, Mom! She was the fastest woman her age (not her age group, but her specific age... lol).<br />
<br />
Scotty finished in 31:11. Also impressive, obviously. It probably helps that he has long legs and close to 0% body fat.<br />
<br />
I have a newfound respect for runners now. It's ridiculously hard, and you have to be physically and mentally strong to push through it!<br />
<br />
The point of this post, other than to brag on Mom of course, is that I'm now inspired to stop being so lame and out of shape. I have all summer to get in shape before grad school starts (I need to write a post about that, by the way...).<br />
<br />
Plus, I want to lose 10 pounds for Katie's wedding that is 67 days away. Totally doable! I just need all of you, particularly my inspiringly athletic friends, to hold me to that. :)<br />
<br />
If I am still a fatty and can't run a 5K by the end of the summer, I will have failed. Period.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIFoBFvzD87o6C-Lj1oOzkiQuQpi0ojDwHwur2Snu7cU3bFeSVVKZTfEZw7_qH9gLqs4kmV6fnu1Sm1LvUiv9bZcOsfcW2pfyMxHn5lVnTcadytf7ihFxREtsEPOYEAEvZ63b11DhFV8/s1600/IMG_0377.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFIFoBFvzD87o6C-Lj1oOzkiQuQpi0ojDwHwur2Snu7cU3bFeSVVKZTfEZw7_qH9gLqs4kmV6fnu1Sm1LvUiv9bZcOsfcW2pfyMxHn5lVnTcadytf7ihFxREtsEPOYEAEvZ63b11DhFV8/s320/IMG_0377.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Scotty, Mom, and me before the race. My smile is fake. Scotty and I are cute and matching because we both wanted to rock our T-Town, Never Down shirts!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZQwCxetRCMUmPRyKlas9nRyNygOJuqezFt6_XZcuqQ265onlwtGrQMfa8-wf1DjPUwPfj9NS7OG6pzxfOWu5lh6s47NalQhMaV4J4EshAppjVKulWdRTNX2swb0FjHo2Igq0KycDoBk/s1600/IMG_0381.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZQwCxetRCMUmPRyKlas9nRyNygOJuqezFt6_XZcuqQ265onlwtGrQMfa8-wf1DjPUwPfj9NS7OG6pzxfOWu5lh6s47NalQhMaV4J4EshAppjVKulWdRTNX2swb0FjHo2Igq0KycDoBk/s320/IMG_0381.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Happy to be finished and pounds lighter from losing water weight!</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQY3vp6AFoTv5j9sonA9sE5GdfCmMdPk20uWkYRs3ilOFjXgG9fYn5lSdejfcYcp7MqQJ33VZRDBDcHGwmV4PfC5qxKLqyFEIiijB7diBLrrUQM4IrAqP-g__hWGxWPmoZpFH8_3lyMAQ/s1600/IMG_0383.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQY3vp6AFoTv5j9sonA9sE5GdfCmMdPk20uWkYRs3ilOFjXgG9fYn5lSdejfcYcp7MqQJ33VZRDBDcHGwmV4PfC5qxKLqyFEIiijB7diBLrrUQM4IrAqP-g__hWGxWPmoZpFH8_3lyMAQ/s320/IMG_0383.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">On the car ride home. Exhausted. (Notice the American flag I wore in my hair for Memorial Day!)</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-51323159521825033982011-05-26T19:40:00.001-05:002011-05-26T19:42:12.336-05:00Why I'm a VegetarianMy name is Stephanie.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I am a Virgo, a Chapstick addict, a Southerner, a liberal, a sweets lover, an Alabama football fan, a Guster fanatic, a college graduate, and a vegetarian.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Really?” (Insert head cocked to the side here.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That’s the reaction I most often get when I tell people that I am the last thing on that list: a vegetarian.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Combine that with being a liberal, and I’m surprised I haven’t been kicked out of the state of Alabama yet!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In all seriousness, though, vegetarians are a rare breed in the South. Down here we’re all about home cooking, fried chicken, and barbecue. Putting the words “Southern style” in front of any vegetable means it’s likely prepared with chunks of ham or pure fat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">This is not meant to be a knock on the South; it’s just one aspect of the culture in this region. I’m proud to say I’m from Alabama despite the limited food choices I have here. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I just want to take this opportunity to write about why I chose, and still choose every day, to be a vegetarian. I’ve been meaning to write about this for a while, and I am finally doing it now because it is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">National Vegetarian Week</b>! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Don’t worry. I’m not recruiting for some guerilla vegetarian organization (though I do follow PETA on Twitter). Also, don’t feel like I’m trying to convert you; this isn’t a sermon. But it is a testimony.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I became a vegetarian on January 27, 2008. I never actually remember the date (I had to look it up.), but I do remember that it was the day after the Senior Bowl my freshman year. The last meat I ate, if my memory serves me right, was a turkey sandwich provided to me by the Million Dollar Band on the way home from Mobile after that football game.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Laura, one of my best friends, had approached me about giving up meat with her for 40 days. One of her friends in Auburn had suggested it, and she wanted somebody in Tuscaloosa to do it with her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I understand why she asked me specifically to do it with her. I have always been weird about meat. I never liked hamburgers or hotdogs, pepperoni, beef, or pork. The only red meat I ate at all for a long time was Taco Bell “beef.” People always poked fun at me for my strange eating habits.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I did eat turkey, chicken, and seafood. But I started to be wary of even these meats sometime during high school. My mom would cook chicken, and I would refuse to eat it if I thought there was even a hint of pink in it. Meat just grossed me out.</div><div class="MsoNormal">It wasn’t just the actual meat that made me uneasy back then either; it was what had to happen for that meat to be on my plate. I wanted to cry (and throw up) when I saw pictures of people hunting poor, innocent animals. On the most basic moral level, it never seemed right that an animal had to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">die </b>just for me to eat a meal.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think I was predestined to be a vegetarian. Mom, Scotty, and I were looking through my baby book a few months ago and discovered a page that said my favorite food was macaroni and cheese and that my least favorite food was meat. Not much has changed. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I think I could have stopped eating meat at a much younger age than 18, but it was never logistically possible. Firstly, I honestly don’t know if I had ever interacted with a vegetarian before college. I don’t know any vegetarians now either, but I have had some interaction with them. Secondly, it’s difficult to make autonomous food choices when eating lunch in the school cafeteria and living in your parent’s house. My options were to eat what was provided or to eat nothing at all, and Lord knows I was never cut out for a hunger strike.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now, back to my story. I agreed to join Laura in giving up meat for 40 days. Those days were easier for me than for her. It honestly was barely a challenge at all. I liked not eating meat; my only real trouble was finding things I could eat using my meal plan and dining dollars. Again, Alabama is not the most vegetarian-friendly of states.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Unfortunately, my vegetarian options were mainly cheese pizza, pasta, French fries, desserts, and other terrible foods. Vegetarianism is often touted as being very healthy, but there are certainly ways to make it unhealthy. And I was guilty of every single one of them. (Since then I’ve become much better about eating my fruits, vegetables, and meat-free proteins.)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">After the 40 days were over, Laura eagerly returned to her carnivorous ways. I, however, decided to continue my vegetarian lifestyle without a set ending date. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As of today, I have been a vegetarian for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3 years and 4 months</b>. (The only meat I’ve purposely eaten was a couple crawfish this year at Mardi Gras, though some people don’t consider that meat. And I felt guilty afterwards!)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Yes, I’m one of those people who goes to college and changes in some major way. Instead of questioning my religion or my sexuality, I questioned my food. And I’m so glad I did! I feel better physically and emotionally, and that is what matters to me.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When I tell this story to people who inquire about my not eating meat, it often isn’t enough. They want more specific reasons<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></b>I choose not to eat meat. While there are plenty of statistics I could use to explain my “alternative lifestyle,” I don’t feel like that is the best way to get my point across. Instead, here are a few of the “buzzwords” surrounding vegetarianism and how I feel I relate to them:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Health—This probably initially had the very least to do with my choice to be a vegetarian. I didn’t become a vegetarian to lose weight or to better other measurements of my health, although these are definitely valid reasons to give up meat. In fact my doctors would probably prefer I had stayed a carnivore due to my severe anemia (low iron). But I would argue that not eating meat is generally healthier than eating meat, and there are plenty of numbers to back me up. Meat is so much more likely than fruits or vegetables to be contaminated by something dangerous. And there are much safer ways than eating meat to get all your essential vitamins and nutrients!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Environment—I remember almost nothing from AP biology in high school, but I do remember one thing about food chains: each level only gets about 10% of the energy from the level before it. It is <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">INEFFICIENT </b>to eat meat. I could say that my eating vegetables instead of meat means that nine more people could also eat vegetables (rather than one person eating meat), but this is an overgeneralization. The bottom line is that meat production is not sustainable. Cutting any amount of meat out of your diet can save a remarkable amount of energy, and it can also decrease pollution. You think driving an SUV is bad for the environment? I dare you to look up how bad meat production is. If you’re one of those whackos like me who believes that human activities impact our environment and our (another buzzword…) climate, the data will be absolutely appalling to you. Maybe it’s the hippie in me, but I’d prefer that our planet be usable for many generations to come. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ethics/Animal Rights—No, animals are not people, too. However, they are living, breathing, sentient creatures. What gives me the right to take an animal’s life for my sustenance when I could literally eat anything else? I don’t see any significant difference between my dogs sleeping on my couch and the cows, pigs, and chickens that most people have in the center of their plate at every meal. While some people are able to eat meat without thinking of the animal it came from, I just can’t. (On a related not, last year I read a <a href="http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/evolved-primate/201005/empathy-is-what-really-sets-vegetarians-apart-least-neurologically-speak">summary of an interesting study</a> about how vegetarians and vegans differ from omnivores in feeling empathy.) And the conditions under which these creatures are raised and slaughtered are repulsive to me. If you really love animals, as so many people say they do, why do you eat them?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So there you go. There is a simple (I promise, I could have written much more.) explanation of my road to vegetarianism. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I have been asked many times whether I think this is just a phase. As I noted before, plenty of people experiment in college. It’s okay to be a little crazy when you’re young and finding yourself, but is it possible to sustain this lifestyle forever?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I guess we’ll see. While I personally could see myself being a vegetarian for the rest of my life, there will come a point where I am no longer the most important person in my life. I hope to get married some day, and the chances are slim that the man of my dreams will be a vegetarian. It isn’t exactly on my checklist.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And when I have children, I don’t know that I could make them be vegetarians. I made my own choice about eating meat, and I think my children should have the same opportunity. While most parents obviously want to pass their beliefs onto their children, I am not the kind of person to force my choices (as good as I think they are) on other people. I certainly haven’t tried to coerce any of my friends into vegetarianism over the past few years!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Please feel free to ask me any questions you might have. Even feel free to criticize my logic or my opinions if you’d like. I’ve been teased plenty since that fateful day I became a vegetarian. When it’s not lighthearted, I brush it off. So bring it on!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Until next time when I’ll talk about religion, gay marriage, and abortion! (Just kidding.)</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-60917227688989154322011-05-16T22:01:00.002-05:002011-05-16T22:24:27.692-05:00Recovery<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>As promised, although after a little longer than anticipated, I want to write about my experience in the days after the storm, some of the damage I saw, and the relief efforts I've witnessed in Tuscaloosa and the surrounding areas.<br />
<br />
My friends and I returned to Tuscaloosa from Northport the morning after the tornado. It took us at least an hour just to go a few miles. We noticed damage we had not yet seen on our way back. A number of cars were mangled off the side of 359; I don't know whether they had been blown off the road by the tornado or just so damaged by the tornado that they were not drivable. Either way, it was horrible to see.<br />
<br />
And it was even worse to see the city of Tuscaloosa again. It hit me especially hard to see 15th Street because it is the street where both of my brothers and I live. Seeing it all again in the daylight hit me like a ton of bricks. It's truly a miracle that my apartment complex was basically untouched; houses just a few hundred feet from mine were unrecognizable.<br />
<br />
That day, our group did what we could to help a friend whose house was beyond repair. Thank God he wasn't home when the tornado hit; his roommate was, under a mattress in his bathtub, and amazingly he is okay. I had seen the destruction along 15th as a whole, but seeing the destruction of this single house was really hard. And all their neighbors were just as unfortunate.<br />
<br />
Later we walked along Hargrove, and that was even worse than what I had already seen. Although many have volunteered since, and much of the debris has been cleared, it's like every damaged area is worse than the last.<br />
<br />
Scotty and I ended up leaving Tuscaloosa on Thursday night (Kenny drove us there since we're both without cars for a while...), the day after the tornado, to stay with Katie in Oneonta for a few days. There was very little good I could do in Tuscaloosa at that point with no transportation and no resources.<br />
<br />
While I was in Oneonta, Brian Williams and President Obama both visited Tuscaloosa. Two of my favorite people in my very own town! I only wish the circumstances hadn't been so unfortunate.<br />
<br />
On Saturday morning, my mom drove down from Madison to Oneonta to pick Scotty and me up... and to give us really big hugs, obviously. We all stayed at Kenny's condo in Tuscaloosa for a few days (since his place had power and Madison was still without). I was so grateful to be with my Mom, and I know she was glad to be with us. Can you imagine all three of your children's lives being threatened so seriously at the same time? Scary.<br />
<br />
That Sunday night, it was announced that Osama Bin Laden had been killed. That news would've meant more to me any other time. As it was, I was mostly just paranoid that this news would take focus off the tornado damage across the South.<br />
<br />
We had originally planned to go home with Mom, but instead Scotty and I decided to stay in Tuscaloosa to volunteer for a few days. She left on Monday, and we went to volunteer that afternoon at UA Greek Relief that afternoon with my friends Laura, Chase, Chris, and Joey. <br />
<br />
This group was certainly doing a great thing, delivering thousands of hot meals to victims and volunteers every day for a week. My friends and I were happy to help, despite the fact that we are all "independents." I hate to criticize anybody who contributed after the tornado because we are all absolutely on the same team. My only criticism, which is obviously secondary to my appreciation of the organization, is that the group was too focused on self-promoting. I understand using social media to ask for donations and volunteers, but I don't think it was necessary for them to brag about what percent of the hot meals in Tuscaloosa they were responsible for. Again, more importantly, their contributions were enormous.<br />
<br />
So we decided to find other organizations to volunteer with in the coming days. Chase, Chris, and I stayed at Laura's apartment (which was outside the damaged area) for the week to volunteer. It was raining all day Tuesday, so all we were able to do was register at St. Matthias church (the volunteer headquarters at that time) to volunteer the next day.<br />
<br />
Early Wednesday morning, the one week anniversary of the tornado, we (and Joey) went downtown to volunteer for Samaritan's Purse. This organization is a religious one, but all that mattered to us was that they provided us and hundreds of other people a chance to get our hands dirty and really help Tuscaloosa. <br />
<br />
Eddie (our able-bodied, chainsaw wielding team leader) drove us to Alberta, an extremely hard hit area in the eastern part of Tuscaloosa. I almost cried when I saw it in person; I'd seen it on the local and national news, but of course seeing it in person was harder. <br />
<br />
We were with a group of maybe fifteen people that cleared debris (trash, parts of houses, and lots of trees) for about five or six hours. In that time, we made significant progress in clearing three yards. <b>THREE YARDS. </b>It's hard to fathom how many man-hours will be required to clear the eighty mile path of destruction caused by our single tornado. Saying it will take years is no exaggeration.<br />
<br />
Later that afternoon, we tried to donate blood. Unfortunately, the blood drive (done by an organization that shall remain nameless) we went to was very poorly organized, and we didn't have time to donate. Next time, I'll only trust my blood donating to the Red Cross.<br />
<br />
Thursday was Cinco de Mayo, and Scotty's birthday. We were physically and emotionally exhausted from the day before, so we used the day to run a few errands and relax. In addition to being Scotty's birthday, it also happened to be the night of what was supposed to be my last undergraduate final. In an alternate universe where the tornado never hit, we would all certainly have been celebrating. Enjoying ourselves in spite of the tornado just felt right.<br />
<br />
Friday morning, we called the UA Community Service Center to find a volunteer opportunity. After a bit of a misunderstanding, we ended up volunteering at the Temporary Emergency Services (TES) down 15th Street. Another exhausting, overwhelming, and rewarding experience! We unloaded seemingly never-ending donations from a long line of vehicles into the giant warehouse. Bags and bags of clothes, food, and other supplies were stacked high all around us as volunteers worked to keep everything organized. It was a beautiful sight, and I know this warehouse was just one of many being run across the city and state.<br />
<br />
After TES, my friends and I volunteered by helping a church to deliver hot meals. I assumed we would be going to Alberta or Holt, but we actually went the other direction near where the tornado first touched down. The damage that we saw was again horrific. It's especially hard to see because so many of the affected areas weren't very nice in the first place; so many people who were already poor before the tornado have even less now. Another eye-opening day, for sure.<br />
<br />
That night I went with my best friend Katie to Gallettes, a very popular bar if you aren't familiar with Tuscaloosa. Again, it was what I should have been doing in an alternate universe in which graduation was supposed to be the next morning.<br />
<br />
Mom drove down to Tuscaloosa on Saturday to find an apartment for me to live in next year and finally to take Scotty and me home. We bought "T-Town, Never Down" t-shirts and celebrated my would-be graduation day with lunch at Tut's with Kenny.<br />
<br />
And so ended my time in Tuscaloosa.<br />
<br />
<br />
A few photos from the days following the tornado:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDhIfouqsoIYJiS7BY-k0rXz35N6tHhPGm8MdYfCryQb4Rl06ud0-Toj4YVRHTrfxhkgQpF9ZuHlf2U8WOQnCMY73pq9himFGYW-GTbwUZIz-d8qTdxVQG_OGhL-rLzskm8lwwPvd8KQ/s1600/IMG_0258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDhIfouqsoIYJiS7BY-k0rXz35N6tHhPGm8MdYfCryQb4Rl06ud0-Toj4YVRHTrfxhkgQpF9ZuHlf2U8WOQnCMY73pq9himFGYW-GTbwUZIz-d8qTdxVQG_OGhL-rLzskm8lwwPvd8KQ/s320/IMG_0258.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Downed tree at my friend's house.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_716kHkBOQhqLmZMYBPh4xk0gxRyGeGc2uT92cq3nRbjKBs8NtWOPxOxq4Nv5oUqL2t9j4v9QvPLCAXGDwM75puqtfKEv1Rhdmi06O8aSKWTVJPe-hb2xD1bDErzcmAAlAUsceEN3lI8/s1600/IMG_0261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_716kHkBOQhqLmZMYBPh4xk0gxRyGeGc2uT92cq3nRbjKBs8NtWOPxOxq4Nv5oUqL2t9j4v9QvPLCAXGDwM75puqtfKEv1Rhdmi06O8aSKWTVJPe-hb2xD1bDErzcmAAlAUsceEN3lI8/s320/IMG_0261.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Between Hargrove and 15th.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxG5Kc_WyVyDVhAhgROFWZVdXkDiO8ilKCOfY1yHfkgnG4s5LlBzeMODrJdC5g6EoKy-2hGDKPf7LyxeWBSa1W4jCpsgTbRuCwyA1Pxlh1eMvvSSxHRikagOU_2bcLwfGAFyNAtkR0Fs/s1600/IMG_0263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglxG5Kc_WyVyDVhAhgROFWZVdXkDiO8ilKCOfY1yHfkgnG4s5LlBzeMODrJdC5g6EoKy-2hGDKPf7LyxeWBSa1W4jCpsgTbRuCwyA1Pxlh1eMvvSSxHRikagOU_2bcLwfGAFyNAtkR0Fs/s320/IMG_0263.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Across the street from my apartment. Notice the missing forest from "Forest Lake."</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsMEi6QzYOkZnn4sO8hMWcraf-WB3TAneGCIoN48NVe4414iN78LNXQQLn6EnpWPMxgEI7_LoH5UCTgeIzbijzT4KVTjbhc-3YpodZsxPytbRb57aPsHcDq8hkv2s1uGXkw3QS38jNfA/s1600/IMG_0268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlsMEi6QzYOkZnn4sO8hMWcraf-WB3TAneGCIoN48NVe4414iN78LNXQQLn6EnpWPMxgEI7_LoH5UCTgeIzbijzT4KVTjbhc-3YpodZsxPytbRb57aPsHcDq8hkv2s1uGXkw3QS38jNfA/s320/IMG_0268.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">The building right next to mine.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gBUSxBQG7sfbWkwtkr-Q3nHJLKldN49z_UMVNUSCctZ_BR67dZZeEMyKE53SQ76I8miaBcndR7qAZVUJ7AInO4k8aBLlZBg7Pspbld0KIQAdtg-ENBT_rLrDwo0sgwoLVesYfI5dMdc/s1600/IMG_0275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gBUSxBQG7sfbWkwtkr-Q3nHJLKldN49z_UMVNUSCctZ_BR67dZZeEMyKE53SQ76I8miaBcndR7qAZVUJ7AInO4k8aBLlZBg7Pspbld0KIQAdtg-ENBT_rLrDwo0sgwoLVesYfI5dMdc/s320/IMG_0275.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">A glimmer of hope from my shattered back windshield.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKbS8Gw6z7qPBI8_FZ5iawarJYXKoHOwJY_pnxeSZhQPv71PX1TBqXtrVdKp4A_jYWW_8n_kjzJqFnnoHlNSrIkLRWcVss6gj8ymQsvWAnB_QeEBS-E0IoMz-dQHbU2Fkz-P5NpT1Xv0/s1600/IMG_0279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKbS8Gw6z7qPBI8_FZ5iawarJYXKoHOwJY_pnxeSZhQPv71PX1TBqXtrVdKp4A_jYWW_8n_kjzJqFnnoHlNSrIkLRWcVss6gj8ymQsvWAnB_QeEBS-E0IoMz-dQHbU2Fkz-P5NpT1Xv0/s320/IMG_0279.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">A closer view of Forest Lake's forest...</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPjI18qtYdqokHSMKI06099UFJACiZvDoh6mmVs1IvnO9gguHrYn7DcRxQrrCjCDTeRO27xZAtOs1dd7AJDCnIfTsp1MHD7JBTmt-zw3OcWSuNLErX5PbWkanDm-MozNvvqNj3J1FblB0/s1600/IMG_0289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPjI18qtYdqokHSMKI06099UFJACiZvDoh6mmVs1IvnO9gguHrYn7DcRxQrrCjCDTeRO27xZAtOs1dd7AJDCnIfTsp1MHD7JBTmt-zw3OcWSuNLErX5PbWkanDm-MozNvvqNj3J1FblB0/s320/IMG_0289.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">One of the places where we delivered hot meals.</div><br />
<br />
This post turned out a little more personal than I intended. And it may also have turned out less positive than I hoped. Instead of attempting to edit my original account, I would like to add a few closing remarks.<br />
<br />
The relief efforts I saw in the week I spent in Tuscaloosa post-"April's Fury" were simply beautiful. I expected to see an overwhelming number of students, victims, and Tuscaloosa residents working to clean up our town. What really touched me was the incredible number of outsiders who inconvenienced themselves to come help us rebuild. So many individuals traveled from all over, and I can't begin to list all the organizations (even if I knew them all) who have helped in some way.<br />
<br />
I wish I could personally thank every single person who has volunteered time or money to help Tuscaloosa recover. For now, this is all I can do. Thank you all so very much.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-42394275184147893792011-05-09T13:32:00.003-05:002011-05-09T16:53:38.256-05:004/27/2011<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As I sit down to write this post on my mother's couch in Madison, I have to admit that I don't know where to begin. I anticipate writing a few posts over the next little while. Today, I plan to write about the tornado itself and the day it hit. Next, I want to write about the recovery efforts I've witnessed, and have been a part of. Finally, I want to write about graduation and the like.</div><br />
By now, twelve days after the tornadoes that devastated my home of Tuscaloosa and much of the state of Alabama, you've likely listened to or read many accounts of the storms from all over. My personal account likely won't be eloquent, but it will be real. <br />
<br />
I've had almost two weeks to process everything, but I don't know that any amount of time would be <i>enough</i>. I don't think I can ever comprehend why what wikipedia calls "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">a violent, dangerous, rotating column of air" had to hit the place I've called home for the past four years. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'm really not selfishly asking, "Why me?"; I'm asking, "Why us?". On the one hand, I must question why so many of my friends and I were put through such a horrific ordeal only a week and a half before many of us were scheduled to graduate.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">On the other, much more dominant hand, though, I am asking, "Why not me?" and, "Why not us?". I am fortunate to have escaped the tornado with no bodily harm to myself or to any of my friends. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">This would not have been the case if I had lived even 100 yards (or even less) down the road... or across the road.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">So here are a few technical details before I delve into my experience with the storm. I'm no meteorologist, so I'm trusting the numbers I've found on the Internet. The National Weather Service officially classified the tornado that ripped through the Tuscaloosa and Birmingham areas as an "upper end EF-4." Peak winds were 190 MPH (That's MILES PER HOUR. What goes that fast?), 10 MPH below what is required to be considered an EF-5. It was up to a mile wide at points and stayed on the ground for 80 miles. According to one article I read, it caused approximately 65 deaths and 1,000 injuries.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">By themselves, those numbers are already overwhelming. But the scariest part is that the tornado that hit Tuscaloosa was not the only tornado that day; it wasn't even close. There were <b><u>hundreds</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> of tornadoes across the Southeastern United States (with Alabama being the hardest hit state) on April 27, 2011. Different sources have reported different totals, but around 200 tornadoes is the number I've seen repeatedly (possibly with some of those on the 26th or 28th). The one that hit Hackleburg and Phil Campbell, two towns I'd never heard of before the storms, was an EF-5 over a mile wide that was on the ground for around 130 miles.</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Another scary number is the number of deaths: 340. I know some people are still missing in Tuscaloosa, and I'm sure it is the same throughout the Southeast. That number could very possibly rise. And it's even harder to process when you realize that each of those deaths represents a </span>person<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> with a </span>family </b>and a <b>life</b> and a <b>future</b>. There's the real path of damage these twisters left in their wake.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">April 27, 2011, was a normal Wednesday. My first class on Wednesdays this semester was rock climbing at 11; we didn't have class because it was dead week, so some of my classmates (including Laura) and I decided to go to El Rincon for lunch. I had huevos rancheros and a margarita, a nice last meal before the storm.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I went back to my apartment, tried to nap, and ended up watching the weather with Scotty. I had class at 3:30 and 5:00, but I decided not to go because the weather looked scary. Jonathan didn't want to go to his 3:30 class either, so he came over to ride out the storm with us.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">We continued watching James Spann. He kept showing footage of the tornado that had struck Cullman earlier that day. Then he started tracking a dangerous storm cell that was going to hit the northern part of Tuscaloosa County. He emphasized that The University of Alabama was not at risk from this storm.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">But before I knew it, we were at risk from a second storm. Eventually, The University of Alabama was under a tornado warning. At 3:44 PM (what was supposed to be 14 minutes into my first class), I received an e-mail that classes were cancelled until 4:45 PM (15 minutes before my second class). I couldn't believe the University was taking things so lightly; in my opinion, classes should've been immediately cancelled for the remainder of the day. (Tuscaloosa City and County schools did not go to class at all that day!) I had no desire to put myself in extreme danger just to attend my last economics class of the semester.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Scotty, Jonathan, and I continued to watch the weather, and our e-mails. Finally, at 4:27 PM (around the time I would normally be leaving for a 5 PM class), we received an e-mail saying classes were cancelled for the rest of the day. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I was so relieved classes were cancelled that I barely thought about the reason why. It's not that I wasn't taking the tornado warning seriously; it's just that we'd had numerous "warnings" the days and weeks leading up to the storm. (I'd even driven in a tornado warning to see Guster in Birmingham!) We were all just a bit too desensitized to the tornado sirens, to <b><u>tornado warnings</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">. I think the same must have been the case for the administrators who waited so long to cancel class. Surely they didn't mean to put students in danger; they just didn't want to overcautiously cancel classes. They were lucky this storm didn't hit campus, or the number of senseless deaths would surely have been even greater.</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Next thing I knew, James Spann was talking about the city of Tuscaloosa. He showed footage of a tornado from a camera downtown; I thought the tornado itself was downtown. Instead, this tornado that touched down at 5:13 PM was headed right for me. I was eating a piece of string cheese (that I still had in my hand long after the storm) in my dining room, as far away from the windows as possible, when Scotty told me he could see the tornado outside our apartment even closer than it was being shown on TV. I was hesitant when Scotty said we should run from our 2nd story unit to the single story clubhouse, but I threw on my shoes, locked the door, and we all literally ran for our lives from the rapidly approaching tornado.</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br />
</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">As we bolted into the clubhouse, a nice man/angel pointed Jonathan, Scotty, and me in the direction of a closet in the workout room. We joined about 10 other people and a dog in this little space, closing the door behind us. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two before the tornado hit. Everyone talks about the sound of a tornado, like a train, and I'm sure I heard that sound. But what I'll never forget is the sudden, rapid changes in pressure. All of our ears were popping over and over as if we were in a plane constantly changing altitudes. It probably only lasted 30 seconds, but it was the longest 30 seconds of my life. We had no idea if the roof above us may get sucked off at any moment... we had no way of knowing what was happening outside.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">After we felt the storm had passed, some of the braver occupants of the closet decided to go outside and assess the damage. Scotty was one of those people; I was not. Scotty called Mom as he walked outside, and fortunately he was able to tell her we were safe before the call was lost. There were tornadoes in North Alabama as well, and Mom didn't know she had to be just as worried about as as she was for herself. I would much rather Dan Satterfield talk about the danger in Huntsville than say that 15th Street had just suffered a direct hit from a tornado. It was for the best, although the lack of information and contact over the next few hours was dangerous. As soon as the storm passed through, I tried to call my older brother Kenny to make sure he was safe wherever in Tuscaloosa he was.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Scotty came back in and told me a lot of cars were missing windows. When he said that included mine, I almost cried. Little did I know at that point how lucky we had been.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I walked outside and saw debris everywhere. Every car along our building was missing windows along the left side, and some had broken back or front windshields. My car was parked along a different building, and it was even worse off. My back windshield and right side windows were gone, and most of my car had taken a beating from flying debris. I couldn't help but be emotional; again, I didn't know how widespread the damage really was.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Then I went to see our condo. Amazingly, only our living room window was broken, and it wasn't even completely shattered. Inside, I could see that the ceiling was leaking in a number of places from shingles being ripped off our roof. But we were so lucky that our condo was one of the least damaged in the entire complex. Huge trees had fallen on some cars outside, and a few condos had their roofs completely ripped off. Just <b>feet </b>from my condo!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">People from University Downs were walking down the entry road to our complex to see 15th Street, but I was scared that there may be another tornado coming. Again, we had essentially zero information beyond exactly where we stood. I went back into the clubhouse with a number of other people in case another storm was on its way.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">It's hard to remember the exact timeline of events right after the storm. All I know is that at some point Kenny showed up and Scotty brought him to me; I gave him the biggest hug you can imagine while I cried into his shoulder. We were grateful that all three of us (and our honorary brother Jonathan) were safe. Kenny had gotten a ride from a total stranger just so he could get to us and make sure we were okay, and I'm so glad he did.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">Eventually, I did walk to 15th. The car dealership next to our condo I walked past along the way was really bad off. Huge pieces of metal had been twisted and torn off the back, and every car in the lot was damaged. When I made it all the way to 15th Street, I couldn't believe my eyes. Across 15th Street, the Forest Lake area looked terrible, and almost no trees were left standing. The intersection of our entry road and 15th was trashed, with wires downed everywhere. To the right of us looked okay, but we knew it was worse to the left. We couldn't see over the hill down to McFarland, so nobody knew the full extent of the damage in that direction. But it looked bad from what we could see.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">I kept trying to call my family. I was able to post a status on facebook to say we were okay, but no calls or texts would go through. I did get some texts and voicemails, but I just couldn't get anything out. Eventually, thank God, Scotty got a hold of Dad. He was without power as well and was without adequate information about Tuscaloosa. I think Scotty was the one to tell him the city where three of his children live had taken a direct hit. I'm glad I didn't have to relay that information myself (though I did have a chance to talk to him later that night).</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">My friends and fellow section members Marcus and Grayson showed up after walking from Midtown. They said the damage was impossible to describe. I wanted to see, and rashly decided we all needed to leave my apartment. I packed a backpack of clothes, grabbed my laptop, and made my way to Midtown (with Scotty, Jonathan, Marcus, and Grayson). All I can say is that Marcus and Grayson were right. The damage was indescribable. Businesses and restaurants were flattened. Cars were flipped over or crushed under debris. We could see all the way to Home Depot because nothing was standing in our way. I couldn't understand where I was exactly because there were no landmarks. It was just devastation as far as any of us could see.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">As we walked, I got a call from Kenneth and Joey (also friends and members of my section). It was the first call that had gone through on my phone, and I emotionally told them everybody I was with was okay. I was relieved when they told me who all they knew was okay as well. Campus wasn't hit (thank God), so our younger friends were fine. They told me their place had power and water if we needed a place to stay, and we all eventually took them up on that.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">It was getting dark at this point, but we surveyed the damage from the top of Midtown. It was mind-blowing. Tuscaloosa was totally unrecognizable. Unfortunately, the condos had no power or water and were in a heavily impacted area, so we knew we had to leave. Marcus tried to drive the five of us in his Camaro to Joey and Kenneth's place in Northport; but it started raining, he didn't have his glasses, and he couldn't see anything because there were no lights and we were blocking his rear view. Thank goodness Laura was able to come get us and drive us to Northport. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">It was like a whole other world over there, untouched and seemingly unaffected by the deadly tornado. The only thing they didn't have was cable, so we still had very little information on what had happened. It was days before I found out the sheer magnitude of our tornado... and then of the innumerable tornadoes outside Tuscaloosa. We ate and talked some and tried to process what we had just experienced, but it's something you can't put into words. Certainly none of us could.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">We all slept restlessly for a few hours that night. Unfortunately, when we woke up, we knew it hadn't all been a terrible nightmare.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3G_bqCzqXXX_KZ8plghZ1Jhp0Ub7LTpR3rRWPWh-76-CA5Oo27hn8UbYX4qZLAIM_l1T6igqGtUWjalH-4zWf29kELuED-1fp6BRuPp59NI9aKKWTgThBBC-zx84egcNuABKYOn55byg/s1600/IMG_0241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3G_bqCzqXXX_KZ8plghZ1Jhp0Ub7LTpR3rRWPWh-76-CA5Oo27hn8UbYX4qZLAIM_l1T6igqGtUWjalH-4zWf29kELuED-1fp6BRuPp59NI9aKKWTgThBBC-zx84egcNuABKYOn55byg/s320/IMG_0241.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="239" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6S076FqskASRL8yEeguWGXdXfVPzw5qUQCj6_GdMbTnRXG72zZshAbKiTK_7HfgsiXh8Z1KVTftNIw1ldujOqfWLElSfy5yo7Vu9hBN0XQEJ7sfF7fy88KX3bWDNyyS1IWuECXsRaBM0/s1600/IMG_0243.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6S076FqskASRL8yEeguWGXdXfVPzw5qUQCj6_GdMbTnRXG72zZshAbKiTK_7HfgsiXh8Z1KVTftNIw1ldujOqfWLElSfy5yo7Vu9hBN0XQEJ7sfF7fy88KX3bWDNyyS1IWuECXsRaBM0/s320/IMG_0243.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="239" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45h71sTiR0K6Tok_TvGb2SwCxXGOHiT2ktH8yGrRjsPYWcf8wOtNLqLsdTihPmG0F8WmeuezCU1BxaA-8-jUbBcXHxU32w_JJnNPnZltph_r61RRAH1EnoXlPyAoAVhTvyxo_f9RMh_o/s1600/IMG_0244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj45h71sTiR0K6Tok_TvGb2SwCxXGOHiT2ktH8yGrRjsPYWcf8wOtNLqLsdTihPmG0F8WmeuezCU1BxaA-8-jUbBcXHxU32w_JJnNPnZltph_r61RRAH1EnoXlPyAoAVhTvyxo_f9RMh_o/s320/IMG_0244.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="239" /></a></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2znFC6s1UWU1E8GHY3OnKKAiB-Yb5OuZiDePRGXkCfs0i6cQog7t0WiJkwXajeAMIg25uw755MPyEMyXIqqiSyp8OrJnw41kbbVdofrVc4QljeASZxAQLNzq8IpudhOZH_tZe607Lp4c/s1600/IMG_0255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2znFC6s1UWU1E8GHY3OnKKAiB-Yb5OuZiDePRGXkCfs0i6cQog7t0WiJkwXajeAMIg25uw755MPyEMyXIqqiSyp8OrJnw41kbbVdofrVc4QljeASZxAQLNzq8IpudhOZH_tZe607Lp4c/s320/IMG_0255.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I took these pictures right outside my condo. For a number of reasons, I didn't take pictures as I walked along 15th that night.</div></span>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-20560501380073832702011-04-22T15:19:00.000-05:002011-04-22T15:19:39.701-05:00Four. Hour. Case.This post is going to be nothing like the last post, mostly because my opinion of the business school is temporarily not so high. Hopefully my opinion will be very different about 7 hours from now.<br />
<br />
Tonight is the dreaded GBA 490 four-hour written case. Virtually every graduating senior in the business school will be in Alston 10 or 30 from 6-10 PM tonight writing until our hands are about to fall off. (Perhaps I should do some hand stretches during the next few hours so I don't pull a muscle in my fingers.)<br />
<br />
GBA 490 is the capstone class in Culverhouse College of Commerce & Business Administration. To graduate with a business degree, you have to take (and pass) it. And it is one of those classes you hear horror stories about from the moment you start taking business classes. I feel like I was never sympathetic enough toward previous classes of poor, suffering seniors.<br />
<br />
It has certainly been a challenging course. It seems like there is always something due; there's no slacking off in this class. The worst part for me was the Business Strategy Game, mostly because I was terrible at it.<br />
<br />
But the cases have been a challenge as well, especially the written ones. In case you don't know what a case is, it is basically where you are given pages and pages of information about a company. You're told about the company's history, industry, competitors, strategy, etc. And then you have to analyze the company and industry with the various "tools" we've been taught in the course. (I am going to get back to memorizing those for tonight as soon as I'm finished with this blog post!)<br />
<br />
Although this process is long and not easy by any means, it helps that there is not necessarily any one right answer. If there's one thing most of us have learned in college, it's how to argue a point. As long as you can make an intelligent argument in your analysis, you probably won't do too poorly grade-wise.<br />
<br />
I am most scared about trying to focus for four consecutive hours. Senioritis hit a long time ago, and I don't know the last time I really made myself work continuously for four hours. The GRE I took in December was probably the closest I've come in a while.<br />
<br />
And it doesn't help that it's Earth Day, Good Friday (I'll be rocking my cross earrings tonight for good karma.), and my Uncle T's birthday. I just want to be home relaxing with my family right now; is that too much to ask, business school?!?<br />
<br />
Alas, there is no escape from this impending doom. I just have to be brave and face it with my classmates from the past four years. I know I'll feel so much better when it's over.<br />
<br />
Now I'm off to rest my hands for the next few hours! TTYL, y'all.<br />
<br />
P.S. Don't tell me that business majors have it easy ever again.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-46015238718628425532011-04-10T18:58:00.006-05:002011-04-10T19:26:43.354-05:00#WINNINGWhat a week I've had! I think the best word I can use to describe it is <b>intense. </b>It was amazing at the beginning, terrrrrible in the middle, and then amazing again at the end. (Skip to the end of this post if you don't want to read about the boring, terrible part.)<br />
<br />
You already know about the beginning the week, the highlight of my life. Guster! If you don't know about that, read the miniature novel in the post below.<br />
<br />
I got back to my apartment from the concert around 1 AM. I was on such a high, but I had to study for my math test that was at 9:30. Icky. I had essentially resigned myself to failure, but after far too little sleep and very little studying, I ended up making the only A I've made on a math test all semester! Obviously I credit Guster for this. I couldn't stop smiling throughout the test even when I didn't know what I was doing.<br />
<br />
After math and GBA, I came back to my apartment and wrote most of my previous blog post before returning to campus for photography. We were presenting our third critiques of the semester. The assignment was to take pictures of a room in our home/apartment; I hadn't been especially excited about the topic, but my pictures ended up being pretty good. What made me even more happy was that everybody's pictures were great! It's been a long road, but I feel like everybody in that class has become an artist. Hopefully we'll all have improved even more by our final critique (Self portraits... eek!).<br />
<br />
Here are some of my pictures from this critique!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx29P5Ku40JAZtXRuMr54sAFf1Jbb031-S4YK-GAFzh23Uf7a5vLRw0-a1CWcsd2HeYIXGkhgFG2ho0IBoDVqCqzxj0WzmCOXu44iYJtZHiKCFMDbaBlbfrlxu_RdH0zP5N5VqNpif75I/s1600/Table+Couch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx29P5Ku40JAZtXRuMr54sAFf1Jbb031-S4YK-GAFzh23Uf7a5vLRw0-a1CWcsd2HeYIXGkhgFG2ho0IBoDVqCqzxj0WzmCOXu44iYJtZHiKCFMDbaBlbfrlxu_RdH0zP5N5VqNpif75I/s400/Table+Couch.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghfv6CdsVcWYI7GfVVhaYpgcIwhqEC2ovZQ8mRkARyHCVcSQsty00t0y8sSm8ns5DsOCDRQfBckbso7lcmfP5hD-X7S8wPBfoUh8DYE0KyGQS9uMBvhyphenhyphenJu6zlEb7oMT1U5qI_Ko4AMMKo/s1600/Floor+Reflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="377" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghfv6CdsVcWYI7GfVVhaYpgcIwhqEC2ovZQ8mRkARyHCVcSQsty00t0y8sSm8ns5DsOCDRQfBckbso7lcmfP5hD-X7S8wPBfoUh8DYE0KyGQS9uMBvhyphenhyphenJu6zlEb7oMT1U5qI_Ko4AMMKo/s400/Floor+Reflection.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqzQTBCRj0qGdMnageoUjPMnf3wfurhyRoVJ0fph0XlsqKSp6Iy5GVWS0wD3ujdUrwgJ_n6exY0VLv1qLmnXZ5tBUcRMOsByIsZVBc3UMN_4PR7RLX8MzKWLZgjW7luA84LJ9RGP-5q0/s1600/Clock+Reflection+lasso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTqzQTBCRj0qGdMnageoUjPMnf3wfurhyRoVJ0fph0XlsqKSp6Iy5GVWS0wD3ujdUrwgJ_n6exY0VLv1qLmnXZ5tBUcRMOsByIsZVBc3UMN_4PR7RLX8MzKWLZgjW7luA84LJ9RGP-5q0/s400/Clock+Reflection+lasso.jpg" width="262" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrZkoUB8isk23aLfp7LaOFD0hCYHJg2iY-zygnALCpkELjVwYtTS3bAtko2tvEPhOkkgZdlIK23nrpsXQcyx5nQz_VdCOrvHyS81bfeGU31KimbYhltYyq3ZwVhi6XwRYQ7GoadMiQgU/s1600/Sunglasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSrZkoUB8isk23aLfp7LaOFD0hCYHJg2iY-zygnALCpkELjVwYtTS3bAtko2tvEPhOkkgZdlIK23nrpsXQcyx5nQz_VdCOrvHyS81bfeGU31KimbYhltYyq3ZwVhi6XwRYQ7GoadMiQgU/s400/Sunglasses.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I finished my post that night and then studied and did homework all Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. I even had to skip rock climbing to study for my finance test that was Wednesday evening... that I ended up getting a B on despite my best efforts. Oh well!<br />
<br />
After my finance test, it was time to start my written case for GBA 490 that was due Thursday morning. Procrastinating was a very bad decision. I was glad Jonathan was at Bashinsky to keep me entertained while I worked until midnight. But he wasn't there to keep me entertained at my apartment where I didn't finish my case until 4 AM.<br />
<br />
Sleep deprived doesn't even begin to describe how I felt after this week! I was exhausted. I went home to nap for a couple hours before my mom got to town for honors week festivities.<br />
<br />
Here is where this week rounded the final corner and came back to awesome! Mom got into town, we all got ready, and then Mom, Kenny, Scotty, and I headed to Dr. Helms's house for the economics and finance department barbecue.<br />
<br />
This was my third year at the barbecue, so we knew to get there early to get food and seats. Normally the barbecue is more casual, and then there is a formal awards ceremony on Friday morning. This year, however, they decided just to have the awards ceremony at the barbecue.<br />
<br />
I already knew what award I was getting, the Murray Havens Award, because they had sent out letters that told us. I was excited because it was for top senior in economics or finance (another girl also won for top senior in arts and sciences economics). Not bad, huh?<br />
<br />
But then things got interesting. Dr. Helms started talking about the Austin Cup, the award given to the top senior in all of the C&BA. Each department nominates one student, and then the faculty gets together to debate who is the top student overall. Dr. Helms announced that I was the nominee (OMG!) for the department, and he called me to the front of this yard.<br />
<br />
He went on to describe the process of selecting the Austin Cup winner to everybody who was in attendance. And then, he said that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>I WON.</b></span><br />
<br />
I was in absolute shock! He pulled out this big trophy and handed it to me. I still couldn't believe it. I haven't won a big award like that ever. I think the closest I've come was being valedictorian of the 5th grade. ;)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CMi_ImpCa96HC40NjvI0TnKD3B45E_I8OcxoNHEcbyiEcv-JlHqOzDQkQDRJ4xCLl31poU3Sjz2_gThi4r6StBjshdmS1CPUFrjKNlMgxry404kuRrvRCBLXr9p19iGXRqV-Ba6hRlY/s1600/IMG_0212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5CMi_ImpCa96HC40NjvI0TnKD3B45E_I8OcxoNHEcbyiEcv-JlHqOzDQkQDRJ4xCLl31poU3Sjz2_gThi4r6StBjshdmS1CPUFrjKNlMgxry404kuRrvRCBLXr9p19iGXRqV-Ba6hRlY/s400/IMG_0212.jpg" width="297" /></a></div><br />
<br />
My family was very proud (and proud that I didn't cry), as was Dr. Helms. Random people kept coming up and congratulating me. I felt famous.<br />
<br />
Mom and I celebrated with some Big Kahuna wine later that night. It was fabulous.<br />
<br />
I am a winner. Winning. (I swear I'm not bragging.) The End.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-70650489694437471822011-04-05T18:27:00.009-05:002011-04-06T01:52:58.455-05:00It's Not Just Good. It's GUSTER Good.Warning: This will undoubtedly be a long post. I would say that I'll try to keep it short, but it's not going to happen. You just have to understand that this is about Guster, and this blog is more for me than you in this case. If you have literally never heard of Guster, we have never had an in-depth conversation about music... or about life. This band has been my compass for the past seven years. I am getting emotional just thinking about them. So here we go!<br />
<br />
Yesterday was the best day of my entire life. I'm on such an emotional high, and I just can't stop smiling!<br />
<br />
Let me clarify. Last night was the best night of my life. Admittedly, the day was not that exciting. I had to study for my economics quiz that was last night and my math test that was this morning. But all of that is unimportant.<br />
<br />
My night started at 6:15. I met Laura and Ben, my fellow concert-goers, in front of Bidgood after my econ quiz. The weather yesterday was horrific, and the sky looked terrifying. But come hell or high water (or tornado...), nothing was keeping me from seeing Guster.<br />
<br />
We power walked to my car in the parking deck, I plugged in my GPS, and we were on our way to Workplay in Birmingham.<br />
<br />
The sky was ominous, to say the least. It was almost black with storm clouds, and there was scary lightning a few times every minute. (I have a phobia of lightning because I was almost struck by it when I was younger... but that's another story.) <br />
<br />
But we were rocking out to Guster the whole way, and we managed to make it to Workplay before the storm did! Hallelujah! Guster, as usual, was my shelter in the storm. (Don't mind my cheesy puns. I feel like I'm walking on sunshine, y'all.)<br />
<br />
We found a great parking spot and managed to get inside nearly untouched by rain. I (figuratively) picked up my ticket at will call, and we were in! It was my first time at Workplay, and I loved how small of a venue it was. I always heard about shows there when Live 100.5 was still on the radio, but I feel blessed that this was the first show I got to see there (I'll be back for sure!). The only time I've seen Guster before was with Caroline at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater in Atlanta. This was so much more intimate, and I knew I would love it from the moment I walked in.<br />
<br />
Laura, Ben, and I got free nalgene bottles by pledging to decrease our water bottle use (I love that Guster loves the environment.), and then Laura got a PBR from the bar. What a hipster!<br />
<br />
We went back in the room where the concert was and stood in the second-ish row of people. No complaints at all about preparing to be just a feet from my favorite band! As the opening band was about to start, Laura suggested that I go figure out details of my meet and greet with the band.<br />
<br />
I guess you need some background on that! As I explained before, Guster loves the environment. Specifically, Adam and his wife have a non-profit called Reverb that supports "green" tours. The band has gotten into sustainability and smart energy usage as a result, and they use a website called Zimride for concert-goers to find carpools to their shows. They randomly select one fan who set up a ride through the site, and that fan gets to join the meet and greet with the band after the show.<br />
<br />
Well, I WAS THAT FAN. I made Laura and Ben sign up through the site to say they were riding with me in hopes that I may have a chance to win. I got the e-mail that I was the winner last Friday and was in complete and utter shock. Shock, I tell you! Here is that e-mail.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLlaWN_JH1iE5npR9TX-aR64yKIO-p3pABWyNnPU5_daLwmkxilZVmhsjFaAvRUx983WXPxGAMwW6UfrJwoxYlmzmOl2h2GrZsY_L54IBGfKcrNFIBMbVQp6Rmgk7qjIacjeJcWJ2Wf-s/s1600/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+2.16.48+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLlaWN_JH1iE5npR9TX-aR64yKIO-p3pABWyNnPU5_daLwmkxilZVmhsjFaAvRUx983WXPxGAMwW6UfrJwoxYlmzmOl2h2GrZsY_L54IBGfKcrNFIBMbVQp6Rmgk7qjIacjeJcWJ2Wf-s/s400/Screen+shot+2011-04-01+at+2.16.48+PM.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Only after I posted this picture on facebook did somebody bring up that it was April Fools Day. I was worried for a second that it might have been a joke, but I just don't believe anybody could be that cruel. I had entered the contest, after all. And meeting Guster was my <i><u>dream</u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;">.</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I asked the merchandise lady who was with Guster, and she told me my name should be on a list at will call. I went to talk to the lady there, and my name was in fact on the list. <b><i>But then she said there wasn't an official meet and greet tonight</i>. </b>I almost started crying on the spot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But before I got too worked up, she said I was supposed to call the tour manager, Jason, to figure something out. SHE GAVE ME GUSTER'S TOUR MANAGER'S NUMBER. I couldn't help wondering if this was real life. I called him, he answered, I managed to get some words out about how I was the meet and greet winner, and he assured me that I could give him a call after the show to meet the band one on one. This really happened, I swear.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I took a few breaths to calm myself down and went back into the concert hall. Jukebox the Ghost had started playing, so I had to wait through a song before I could tell Laura and Ben that we were really going to meet Guster. It was hard to keep it in, but they were so excited when I told them. Laura was especially excited for me... that's what makes a best friend, people.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jukebox the Ghost was really good! I literally have one song by them in iTunes called "Empire" that I've listened to a few times. But they were great live. I may have to buy some more of their music soon!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkkzpSfr7azN4U2x2BtlU4ew2Dzke0qoEw3QeAe5p1H9ekDG6sDkcUrcAjUelVtUExGcs_5rn_pnI7_5MvCAt5tR5Bnf5vRcJaCV54m3RxdL7nU1IGKYeLNkL7DP-gCNhGMZUY8Bn_eA/s1600/DSC03271.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkkzpSfr7azN4U2x2BtlU4ew2Dzke0qoEw3QeAe5p1H9ekDG6sDkcUrcAjUelVtUExGcs_5rn_pnI7_5MvCAt5tR5Bnf5vRcJaCV54m3RxdL7nU1IGKYeLNkL7DP-gCNhGMZUY8Bn_eA/s320/DSC03271.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(There is also a keyboard player who I managed not to get in this picture...)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I loved that they were just so into their instruments. I especially liked how the drummer kept tossing his drumstick into his basket of instruments and then started playing one of his cymbals with a maraca (Thanks, Kelly.) or other random percussion instrument. I also loved how the keyboardist used the microphone almost as a prop throughout the show. He kept moving his head over and under it as he played, and I just loved watching him. Also, the guitar player talked to me from the stage! He said they were having electric issues, and I said, "There's a tornado." People in the crowd laughed, and he basically said, "Oh really? I thought it was just raining." It made me feel famous.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Jukebox the Ghost played for about 45 minutes, and then it was game time. Actually, it was setup time, the worst part of the whole show because I was sick with anxiousness and so ready to see my favorite band! I told Laura and Ben to prepare to lose their Guster virginity. It's one thing listening to their albums; seeing them live is a whole new ballgame, but I knew they were up for it.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After what seemed like ages, they took the stage! Ryan, Brian, Adam, and recent addition Luke! The crowd wasn't huge, but we were pumped. Ryan did make a comment at one point that it felt more like a rehearsal than a rock concert, so I tried to yell as loud as my poor sick little throat could handle after that. Guster rarely comes to Alabama (Adam, Brian, and Ryan are all Yankees that met at Tufts University in Massachusetts 20 years ago.); they joked that they had opened up for Skynyrd last time they came to this state. I want to make sure they come back and soon!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUuVj5wn3vfKaOzrDx3s78f4Ct3HNYtuCpPB6r_ulpqGRaJukrEh2P34vJSed92NiockBQJyAldihDgfy4yE9T6SwgBFzS3wNzbl3jVLrINbWA_7zVtf1hSC0076DS38yemMjTbByhK4/s1600/DSC03283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimUuVj5wn3vfKaOzrDx3s78f4Ct3HNYtuCpPB6r_ulpqGRaJukrEh2P34vJSed92NiockBQJyAldihDgfy4yE9T6SwgBFzS3wNzbl3jVLrINbWA_7zVtf1hSC0076DS38yemMjTbByhK4/s320/DSC03283.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I think I took some better pictures with my iPhone. I hope I did! Adam is on the left, then Ryan, and Brian is on the far right in the back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was excited to see them perform songs off of their latest album, "Easy Wonderful." It's not my favorite album of their six, but I was hoping they would get really into it since it's not the same music they've been playing for years. I can't say for sure, but I think these are the songs they played from it: "Architects & Engineers," "Do You Love Me," "On The Ocean," "This Could All Be Yours," "Bad Bad World," "What You Call Love," and "That's No Way To Get To Heaven." I loved it, and I sang every word (but not so loud that other people had to hear me, for the most part)!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The older stuff, though, is what I was most excited for. I have been listening to Guster for 7 years, but my favorite albums came out before I even started listening to them. When I saw them in Atlanta last year, they were sort of opening for Ben Harper, and they played for only an hour or so. I was so glad to see them as the featured band last night and happy they played for two hours. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The old songs they played were "Airport Song," (Duh! I need to remember my ping pong balls next time...), "Careful" (Ryan said he doesn't like this song. I'm guessing it's because they play it so often, but I'm keeping it as my ringtone.), "Ramona," "Barrel Of A Gun," "Happier" (Yay!), "Keep It Together," "Come Downstairs And Say Hello," "I Spy," "Satellite," "Manifest Destiny," "The Captain," and "Hang On." There may have been more, and there may have been fewer. I listened to them on my iPod the whole way there and back, so I may be getting confused.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Toward the beginning of the show, Ryan also made up a hilarious song (to make fun of an audience member trying to take a picture of himself and Guster on his phone) about needing good lighting to use the camera on an iPhone. This is why I love them. You feel like you know them when you are just in the audience! They ended the show with an acoustic jam session of "Jesus on the Radio." It was marvelous, and I swear they were just a few feet from me!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was especially impressed by how multitalented every member of Guster is. They were all playing different instruments throughout the night, and it was amazing. Ryan played the guitar, ukelele, piano, and harmonica. Adam played the guitar, piano, and trumpet. Brian played a million different kinds of drums; I am obviously partial to his super intense hand drumming on the bongos/congas/other hand percussion things, but he's also great on the traditional drum set! Luke, who has only been in the band about 6 months (I don't know how he learned so many songs in so little time!), played the bass, guitar, and piano. I hope to be even a fraction as talented as any of these men are one day.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The show really was over after the acoustic song, sadly. Earlier they had walked partly off the stage one time (saying they were too old to actually walk on and off just to trick us) and then fully off the stage before playing some encores. I was sad, but I was more excited to meet them! ALSO, before we left the concert area, Laura caught one of Adam's picks (thrown by Scooter) and gave it to me. Ahhh!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Laura, Ben, and I went into the lobby and met Jukebox the Ghost. They were all really short and skinny. I felt obese next to them! Haha. But it was still very cool to meet them after the show they put on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxmS_n-B3oRu6u3Tu6AIACISgvJi17dTmbDJvEoJoju6RLA5JNLms2mt_5HM_UpqrjgJ3EbScv0gdFQ2T8yqoEo-9r1cyc8HGs8Z0uXuJ9j1zFwvzeaRrFajrFWJq5g82ei95QgIYV0U/s1600/DSC03303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjxmS_n-B3oRu6u3Tu6AIACISgvJi17dTmbDJvEoJoju6RLA5JNLms2mt_5HM_UpqrjgJ3EbScv0gdFQ2T8yqoEo-9r1cyc8HGs8Z0uXuJ9j1zFwvzeaRrFajrFWJq5g82ei95QgIYV0U/s320/DSC03303.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I called Jason (the tour manager) again, and he told me to give them about 10 minutes to wrap some things up backstage. We were hanging around the lobby, and security tried their best to kick us out. I told this big bald white guy that we were waiting for the meet and greet, and he said he'd been told there wasn't a meet and greet. I said something to the effect of, "I know. It's just for me!" He didn't really seem to believe me, but he let us stand just outside the lobby door.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After a few minutes, Jason came out and found me. "Are you Stephanie?" He said he'd go back and get the band. The security guard reluctantly let us back into the lobby (Since we were the only three people who got to meet the band!). This would be when I started freaking out. I was trying to "keep it together" (Guster pun), but I was just too overwhelmed at this point. Tears were welling up, and I didn't know if I'd be able to hold them back. If you don't understand, just imagine meeting your favorite band/musician/celebrity! I bet you'd get emotional too!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next thing I knew, Adam walked out the door. My tears were rolling a bit, but I introduced myself and shook his hand. Then Ryan walked out and immediately hugged me! He asked me why I was crying, and I just explained that Guster is my favorite band and this was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me. I pulled out my five Guster CDs, and he said he'd sign anything as long as I would stop crying! I managed to stop somehow! Brian and Luke also came out, and I hugged them/shook their hands. Brian's hands were wet because he ices them down after shows (You have to see his drumming to understand!). I also welcomed Luke to the band, as if that's my place. Haha. All of them signed my five CDs and covers, Laura's water bottle, and Ben's "Easy Wonderful" vinyl. Amazing! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">These five to ten minutes were pretty much just word vomit on my part. I couldn't stop talking about how much I love them, how much their music means to me, how long I've been a fan, how I follow them on twitter and tweet at them all the time (and how they should tweet me back... Ryan kept calling me smanderson after this.), how Brian should write about me in the road journal, etc. Ryan took my camera and took a totally goofy picture of us, and then I got a shot with the band and a shot of all of us with the band.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbJ50hkZu38NqG1-I7PwYLIwwXvgapLsUA2yNwX7GxMJTXDXtfMXjQuKl8ez_HMjI8I3hUJvcCGxZbOijzAKQUtU3IWUXeLbt8h_drHPdNyuCgTOnoA-N-jiLzuIlZ_IcE03c2u-v71Q/s1600/DSC03305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbbJ50hkZu38NqG1-I7PwYLIwwXvgapLsUA2yNwX7GxMJTXDXtfMXjQuKl8ez_HMjI8I3hUJvcCGxZbOijzAKQUtU3IWUXeLbt8h_drHPdNyuCgTOnoA-N-jiLzuIlZ_IcE03c2u-v71Q/s320/DSC03305.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Of course Ryan wanted to take a picture of us on my camera while I was crying. Actually, he probably wanted to do it so I'd stop crying. (I wasn't that bad, I promise.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJieOtWnyeHGiCMO5E7UqoMlT-bqBICP2YQWLOf4Xh7B40oSe118OARkBWrM5T7wFTua_aV34ZaJ8ZWTaOp1WmOYx0oJiD94ZzBj7J0tFs4VSEoxI0f1q0LHrHsh3NLmVzntVzJP1LWU/s1600/DSC03306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJieOtWnyeHGiCMO5E7UqoMlT-bqBICP2YQWLOf4Xh7B40oSe118OARkBWrM5T7wFTua_aV34ZaJ8ZWTaOp1WmOYx0oJiD94ZzBj7J0tFs4VSEoxI0f1q0LHrHsh3NLmVzntVzJP1LWU/s320/DSC03306.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Luke, Adam, Ryan, me, and Brian!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzL0JTU0d25JdcYvwHOk3ZfPITirmDeqqeP7vqsVRrqJcdOsQ5YnIA9lqahd0dSR1l7kL9HAhOhxCdJ9m7UkmwSad7uRxVY7tH6XMRdJRUngGTe5ZuCcE9oLEfnfGtq3abHilI9iwUOhk/s1600/DSC03307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzL0JTU0d25JdcYvwHOk3ZfPITirmDeqqeP7vqsVRrqJcdOsQ5YnIA9lqahd0dSR1l7kL9HAhOhxCdJ9m7UkmwSad7uRxVY7tH6XMRdJRUngGTe5ZuCcE9oLEfnfGtq3abHilI9iwUOhk/s320/DSC03307.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So glad I got to share this experience with Laura and Ben! I wish Roli could've been there too because she's the only person I know who loves Guster as much as I do.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I didn't want to be a lame groupie who wouldn't leave the band alone, so I decided to let them go relax after an amazing show. I got more than I ever could have asked for in those minutes with the band. It was quite literally my dream come true. I guess I need a new dream now! I hugged all of them goodbye and thanked Jason for the extra special meet and greet (just me and my two friends versus the norm of about twenty people), and we left to rock out to Guster all the way back to Tuscaloosa.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I've been high on life ever since then. I didn't just casually meet the members of Guster; I really met them! I introduced myself to each of them individually (They didn't need to introduce themselves to me, obviously.), shook their hands, <i>hugged</i> them, and <b>they learned my name </b>(even if only for a few minutes). I'll never forget the interaction I had with them. I feel so, so blessed, and that's not a word I use often!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It wasn't a dream, right?</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-77348555078177959722011-04-04T01:33:00.000-05:002011-04-04T01:33:29.918-05:00Sunday Funday?It's been a while!<br />
<br />
As usual, I am here because I need to be studying. I've actually been really good and gotten a lot done today, but I still have so much to do for this week.<br />
<br />
Strangely enough, what I need to be studying for (well, the first thing I need to be studying for) is not until Tuesday morning. Normally I would be cramming my brain for my math test Monday night. But something tomorrow night is a little more important in the grand scheme of things...<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>GUSTER</b></span><br />
<br />
If you know me at all, you know Guster takes precedence over pretty much everything in my life. So I can't even begin to describe the feelings of elation I have about seeing them perform tomorrow in Birmingham.<br />
<br />
And I might even get to meet them! AHHHHH!<br />
<br />
I'll let you know how it goes after... probably when I have time after the concert, two tests, and a project. So maybe this weekend!smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-41842426936519859292011-03-20T22:20:00.003-05:002011-03-20T22:29:34.419-05:00SBXIYou know how it isn't over until the fat lady sings? Well, I say spring break isn't over until I blog about it!<br />
<br />
Let me begin by saying it's strange to be typing on a real keyboard again. I used my iPhone a good amount throughout the week, but I haven't been on a computer since last Saturday morning. I feel absolutely refreshed after my technology cleanse! (Speaking of which, I definitely took zero pictures this week and need my friends to post theirs. :D)<br />
<br />
I also feel refreshed because, for the past 8 or 9 days, I let myself escape Tuscaloosa and all the stress that comes from being at school. I did some schoolwork the Thursday and Friday before I left, but I literally did not think about school from the moment I rolled out of Tuscaloosa. It. Was. Glorious.<br />
<br />
I was extra excited because this was my first real spring break at the beach. Freshman year I went to Vegas with my bff Amanda. Sophomore year I went home to San Diego with Mom, Kenny, and Scotty. Last year, I'm pretty sure I went home and slept. (To clarify, I was taking 18 hours of classes last spring.) I had to cram super amounts of fun into this spring break to make up for my lack of cliche spring break adventures for past 3 years.<br />
<br />
Here's a quick rundown of the main part of SBXI... because there's no way you would read (or that I could remember) details of the past week. Actually, looking at my twitter would probably give me some pretty good reminders.<br />
<br />
Location: Gulf Shores, AL in an awesome duplex very close to the beach. We were thankful for everybody's sake that nobody stayed in the other unit in our building!<br />
<br />
Ride Down: Provided by my big brother Kenny, who was conveniently staying right down the road, and his friend Bryce.<br />
<br />
Housemates: Laura, Erica, Chase, Chris, Ryan, Joey, Colin, Krista, Kenneth, Marissa, Matt, Sarah, John, and me.<br />
<br />
Songs: There were quite a few theme songs of our SBXI. OF COURSE, the official one was <b>"Friday" by Rebecca Black</b>. I think we can credit Colin with introducing that masterpiece to the house a couple days into the week. Another very popular one was <b>"What the Hell" by Avril Lavigne</b>. Every single song by <b>Ke$ha </b>and <b>Lady Gaga</b>. "<b>F**k You" by Cee Lo Green</b>. <b>"Firework" by Katy Perry</b>. There were probably many more, including every one from our lip-synching competition, but I'm blanking right now.<br />
<br />
Activities: Beaching, getting sunburned, imbibing, lip-synching for our lives, almost getting PIs the first night, partying with strangers, sleeping, looking hot, walking the beach at night, "the game," causing drama, bonding, eating entirely too much (and usually, ahem, late at night), outlet shopping, Flora-Bama-ing on St. Patty's Day, etc. This week was so much more than any of those things, but we'll just say the sum was greater than the parts. And it was pretty freaking great.<br />
<br />
After exhausting amounts of fun with my friends, it was family time!<br />
<br />
I felt very fortunate that my mom was willing to drive up from Destin to Gulf Shores to retrieve me for a few days with the family at the end of the break. She picked me up after a hellish drive on Friday morning and drove me to the condos in Destin where my Uncle Chuck and Aunt Ethel (actually great uncle and great aunt, and also my godparents) stay during the winter to escape the cold of Chicago. <br />
<br />
Mom and Grandpa had been staying in another condo in the same building since last Sunday, while Uncle Chuck and Aunt Ethel's daughter Marla and grandson Ty (neither of whom I had met before Kenny and I had lunch with the fam at McGuire's in Pensacola on Wednesday) stayed in the condo with them. I stayed with Mom and G-Pa, and Uncle Tommy picked up Scotty from PCB and joined us later that evening.<br />
<br />
We swam Friday and Saturday nights in the heated pool, went to the beach, ate out a few times, talked a good bit, played Paper Jams with Ty and taught him to say, "Roll Tide!", and just had a good time. I was sad to miss the end of SBXI with my friends, but family is very important to me.<br />
<br />
My mom drove Scotty and me back to Tuscaloosa after a huge breakfast at Golden Corral with the fam. We got home around 4, and I have been unpacking, doing laundry, etc. since then. I'm trying to prepare myself mentally for the next 6 weeks before graduation!<br />
<br />
Overall, I have to say this was the best spring break I have ever had. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to spend quality time with my friends (who I don't get to see anywhere near as much as I want to) and my family (ditto).<br />
<br />
Thanks to everybody who made this week possible. And <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">fun</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, </span>fun<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">, fun, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">fun</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">!</span></b>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-62151963497175886082011-03-10T22:25:00.002-06:002011-03-10T22:42:56.878-06:00Mardi Gras!As you all can probably guess, I should be doing something other than writing a blog post (and watching <u>Titanic</u>). Tonight, I should instead be writing a statement of purpose for grad school (Don't ask... yet.); but my spring break started at 12:15 today, and I just can't bring myself to be overly productive so early in my break. I do plan to finish it by tomorrow, though, so that I can avoid thinking about school for the next week while I'm at the BEACH!<br />
<br />
I can't complain that this week was too difficult. Usually the last week before spring break is filled with midterms and misery, but I finished most of my tests the two weeks before this one. I must say, it was very considerate of my professors to schedule my tests around...<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">*MARDI GRAS*</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><br />
</span></b><br />
And what a lovely Mardi Gras it was! This was my second year in a row getting to experience the holiday with one of my best friends, Lauren. Making a friend from New Orleans was definitely one of the best decisions I made in college (as my Grandma told me last year). <br />
<br />
Anybody can go see Mardi Gras from a tourist's perspective, but having a friend from New Orleans has afforded me the opportunity to experience it essentially as a native. I get to see the parades uptown on St. Charles rather than downtown. The only time we went downtown (to Bourbon Street) last year was much less enjoyable; we didn't even attempt it this year except for the Endymion Extravaganza, and I can't say I missed it.<br />
<br />
I had planned to head down to Nawlins on Thursday, but if you remember from my last post I decided to sleep instead. Good decision since I definitely didn't sleep much this extended weekend!<br />
<br />
I finished packing and drove to New Orleans on Friday instead, and I didn't return to Tuscaloosa until Tuesday evening (only a little more than a day after I intended to). Roll Tide?<br />
<br />
It was great getting to see Lauren for the first time in months and to catch up with Sara, who neither Lauren or I has seen since <i>May</i>. Wowzas. <br />
<br />
I don't want to bore you with all the details, so let me sum it up for you. We went to tons of parades, caught bajllions of beads, ate pounds and pounds of king cake, drank a few sips of alcohol, experienced minor flooding, went to the Endymion Extravaganza/<b><i>ball</i> </b>(with Anderson Cooper, Kelly Ripa, Pat Benatar, and Train), met a Saints player (Darren Sharper), ate crawfish (my first meat in over 3 years), avoided knocking children off of ladders, slept on occasion, skipped four classes (Oh wait, that was just me.), made new friends, illegally used port-a-potties, and had more fun than should be legal.<br />
<br />
That about sums it up! I need to write a more detailed summary for myself to remember everything, but I'll just leave you all with some pictures of my very much needed weekend in Nawlins! (Credit to Sara for some of these pictures... I didn't take nearly enough!)<br />
<br />
Our first night after being reunited! :)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1XXmKIuJZGVmoEAh8rBKhhQZVCSbMScrcqMAYcXmDum8_uK8hHR6F7wr2b0z0JyvSpi_0ymXHBs1IVuE1slO_mHtCacyKdouECDI0ZcLiocKH0xCKT5wNguophf_fg_0VSrVOXEtag4/s1600/Mardi+Gras.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx1XXmKIuJZGVmoEAh8rBKhhQZVCSbMScrcqMAYcXmDum8_uK8hHR6F7wr2b0z0JyvSpi_0ymXHBs1IVuE1slO_mHtCacyKdouECDI0ZcLiocKH0xCKT5wNguophf_fg_0VSrVOXEtag4/s320/Mardi+Gras.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
This gave me a great reference to explain where I am from.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTjOKHw2vHevPi3buUWWHWLjD06fMNNfZmQnYBVXk2lzp4_IWEh9vpRr3t_MhMN9F4ADykZKJkh6tilVlrxeXFxw8rPL3OVfhG2Q2Fcmrp0VTKg7Bx8HP5706EkLaC2pmPPDbydlPppI/s1600/DSC03131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXTjOKHw2vHevPi3buUWWHWLjD06fMNNfZmQnYBVXk2lzp4_IWEh9vpRr3t_MhMN9F4ADykZKJkh6tilVlrxeXFxw8rPL3OVfhG2Q2Fcmrp0VTKg7Bx8HP5706EkLaC2pmPPDbydlPppI/s320/DSC03131.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ian and I decided to try something new. We split this bottle (over the course of a couple days), and it was delicious! I love New Orleans.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT4Gruv-85sUAd2dXdy_PFVBFxkJX9qxvm2fYgmns9OY27bxpkCjMLcAVlGJJfNTfJUi50FUvIH_p0l8EgE7MzFC-l7dENzDigJMdvnSZ_3B64Pw8UoepH-rH3Te8ZRWtd5Hzeci948PE/s1600/IMG_0023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT4Gruv-85sUAd2dXdy_PFVBFxkJX9qxvm2fYgmns9OY27bxpkCjMLcAVlGJJfNTfJUi50FUvIH_p0l8EgE7MzFC-l7dENzDigJMdvnSZ_3B64Pw8UoepH-rH3Te8ZRWtd5Hzeci948PE/s320/IMG_0023.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Me, Sara, and Lauren at the Endymion Extravaganza. Lauren and I were appear much taller than usual due to our heels and Sara's flats!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhMPl0_jW_eMHo8W3LzqvdIRnpcW7yVoDd7l6Ofy6EAPUWmG9giOC9JplAZvZF28WexooP6JGCI6l39vPoVrTHyW1En6sfjldl-dr_pt_EG6ywNrPvdu2fnG9ebhJzmi89wgzkdrOJ-Y/s1600/Endymion+Extravaganza+Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhMPl0_jW_eMHo8W3LzqvdIRnpcW7yVoDd7l6Ofy6EAPUWmG9giOC9JplAZvZF28WexooP6JGCI6l39vPoVrTHyW1En6sfjldl-dr_pt_EG6ywNrPvdu2fnG9ebhJzmi89wgzkdrOJ-Y/s320/Endymion+Extravaganza+Cropped.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The king cake I bought after I got the baby the first night. Yum.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwwM9t802rX1KUXlAvxXKLEl7p8h3P_qgRHOLXWI3ErEBKU6m91YgxMH34Jt63-aj8eBkzikDWQz1llApDkrGqF0qJjqWnYhwbUHkh4tBKcGfNrMSdB9n3ypX5YChwG5FxUAuE95IOyyg/s1600/IMG_0027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwwM9t802rX1KUXlAvxXKLEl7p8h3P_qgRHOLXWI3ErEBKU6m91YgxMH34Jt63-aj8eBkzikDWQz1llApDkrGqF0qJjqWnYhwbUHkh4tBKcGfNrMSdB9n3ypX5YChwG5FxUAuE95IOyyg/s320/IMG_0027.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's Darren Sharper on the right! (I'm a Cowboys fan, but I still appreciate that the man is a Super Bowl champion.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPw_xe-mISaTL0IFxADaXyNtUwFlcYuPmU4BFcX4rerXbdJibFiDTC9_q6zajiJfkU3-0IqS4KU4Sl6a_4xfUoV3MPeJB-IiX6RYTcuHipJV8t2j1k4korN4Mut9u1NtPoVL4Wk2TWKeA/s1600/IMG_0030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPw_xe-mISaTL0IFxADaXyNtUwFlcYuPmU4BFcX4rerXbdJibFiDTC9_q6zajiJfkU3-0IqS4KU4Sl6a_4xfUoV3MPeJB-IiX6RYTcuHipJV8t2j1k4korN4Mut9u1NtPoVL4Wk2TWKeA/s320/IMG_0030.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Yes, I ate a few of these. It was a strange experience after being a vegetarian for over three years.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nAjMdMHHsRYJmfY7yGyv2jYuw9-ksTaiHC2mD5vM60IlCTaPi3TENbBFocn3k7Qvlyaf7YPgQ36iEEHE6ExfVV6NbvG2j-YT1LyZOVuSCDSj39S2pwwfArt970AkBlWeoHsiCwk2mPY/s1600/IMG_0035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6nAjMdMHHsRYJmfY7yGyv2jYuw9-ksTaiHC2mD5vM60IlCTaPi3TENbBFocn3k7Qvlyaf7YPgQ36iEEHE6ExfVV6NbvG2j-YT1LyZOVuSCDSj39S2pwwfArt970AkBlWeoHsiCwk2mPY/s320/IMG_0035.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Me eating one of the poor crawfish pictured above.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOae68x1d-FRd5aJV0DD0QGK3m6ZGV-CAH_XVCDlLg-KPwJpDp31G635QkAH0VIqgeUpgJC9OxILnPNYKgNxxU6QuODVNucKwPtbe744xd-UdfqAI1r1tS38NZHziIDgRrzJx_YlbyTzw/s1600/Crawfish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOae68x1d-FRd5aJV0DD0QGK3m6ZGV-CAH_XVCDlLg-KPwJpDp31G635QkAH0VIqgeUpgJC9OxILnPNYKgNxxU6QuODVNucKwPtbe744xd-UdfqAI1r1tS38NZHziIDgRrzJx_YlbyTzw/s320/Crawfish.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And on that note, I'm calling it a night.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-65860231363029926582011-03-03T19:22:00.000-06:002011-03-03T19:22:00.469-06:00The Art of the NapMy inspiration for this post is the amazing three hour nap (or perhaps I should say temporary coma) I just took. It's been a long week with too little sleep, and my afternoon nap was an outstanding way to recover.<br />
<br />
Some people think it's a shame that human beings spend about one-third of their lives sleeping. I think it's a <b>blessing</b>. It would certainly be a blessing if I slept anywhere near 8 hours a night as a college student!<br />
<br />
Some people say they have much better things they could do with those nighttime hours than spend them asleep. And perhaps that's the case... in theory. But in reality, what is more important is than letting your body and your brain rest and recharge? I'm barely functional on 6-7 hours of sleep a night; I can't imagine running on empty. <br />
<br />
Some people claim they can get by on very little sleep. Sleep is both a necessity and a privilege for me. It is near the top of my priority list, and I hate when I have to sacrifice sleep for other things (like schoolwork). I think teachers should understand that sleep is generally more important to me than class, but somehow they expect me to sleep less rather than study less. I think they need to reevaluate their priorities.<br />
<br />
It's not technically my major, but one subject that I have become an expert in during my college years is <b><i>napping. </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">I hated napping when I was younger. I chose Taekwondo over naptime during a summer daycare program when I was 7 or so years old, and that set a precedent for the rest of my young life. I always preferred activity to napping. </span></b>Even through high school, I rarely napped. If I was tired, I just went to bed early. <br />
<br />
But things changed when I got to college. Going to bed early wasn't an option, and dumb little freshman me had 8 o'clock classes. Some afternoons or early evenings (right after MDB practice) when I was especially tired, I would set my alarm for an hour or two in the future and just sleep. It was <b>GLORIOUS</b>. I had discovered my passion (and, conveniently, a great way to get around not sleeping enough at night).<br />
<br />
Second semester, I utilized my newfound free time from 3:30-5:30 PM to nap even more often. Almost every day, in fact. It was a beautiful thing. I took full advantage with my patented epic naps of 2 hours or more.<br />
<br />
I now gauge my semesters based partially on whether or not I have enough time to nap. It is a major determinant of my happiness, after all. Based on available nap time, I can't say this semester is a great one. I've been so busy that today's nap was the first one I've taken in at least a month.<br />
<br />
Obviously the next subject I need to master is <i>power napping</i>!smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-48960801258684761152011-02-25T16:13:00.003-06:002011-02-25T17:22:13.432-06:00The Post About KatieWhat happened to me blogging semi-consistently? I admit, this blog is not one of my top priorities, but I don't want to stop. It really is nice to just <i>write</i> once in a while. Math and economics don't allow for much individuality or creativity. I need this.<br />
<br />
But what I'm going to post right now is something I wrote a week ago:<br />
<br />
<u>Friday, February 18</u><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">So it’s about 9:45, and I just got off the phone with my best friend Katie.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Generally, we don’t spend that much time on the phone with each other. Admittedly, neither of us is the best with the whole constant communication thing. This is probably due to the fact that our friendship began after getting each other for potluck roommates freshman year. We loved each other (once we got to know one another), lived together for two years, and the rest is history. Anyway, it was much easier to talk when we saw each other every single day. Now we’re older, busier, and she’s…</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">ENGAGED!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! That is what she just called to tell me. Sorry for the long lead in, but I thought this announcement deserved a little build up! I cried when she told me. It’s not every day your best friend gets engaged to her soulmate.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Of course, nobody is going to see this until everybody else knows anyway. Katie is in a sorority, and she should be having her candlelight ceremony Monday. I don’t plan on spoiling the surprise!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, there go our grades for our final semester of college. We have more important things to attend to… namely, A WEDDING!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’m so, so, so excited. It’s been a long time coming; she and Zack have been since first semester of freshman year. Everybody knew it was coming, and we’re all glad Zack <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">finally </i>proposed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I had to get this out, but I don’t want to say everything I’m thinking right now. I’ve got to save something for my toast at the wedding. ;)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">^ I am still just as excited as I was a week ago. Yay yay yay! And P.S. I cried again during the time when I knew she was having her candlelight and again when I went over to see her and her ring! I can't help it.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I'm so excited to get closer to Katie and all of my fellow bridesmaids over the next 5 1/2 months. Not long to plan a wedding, right? But this is going to be the best kind of busy ever.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Until next time, readers!<br />
<br />
Edit: Here's a picture of me and Katie with her RING!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QxMgly1kuY0zspQr3uCwbZh23CCtP27mdi4Ajd4xbZBGzFGWb5sg6F5OcBlZaLYF-nIXby71uTjiRmMufqo3cDuF4_CCy8YjI3zoOV54C4d8rP3W66nxRedss76oV_MpxwlVwe3OJb8/s1600/DSC03051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3QxMgly1kuY0zspQr3uCwbZh23CCtP27mdi4Ajd4xbZBGzFGWb5sg6F5OcBlZaLYF-nIXby71uTjiRmMufqo3cDuF4_CCy8YjI3zoOV54C4d8rP3W66nxRedss76oV_MpxwlVwe3OJb8/s320/DSC03051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-67050902198724442472011-02-14T23:41:00.000-06:002011-02-14T23:41:43.371-06:00V-Day or D-Day?Today is February 14th, Valentine's Day.<br />
<br />
For some people, it is among the greatest days of the year. For others, it is among the worst. And of course there are plenty of people who are totally apathetic about it.<br />
<br />
If I had to put myself in one of these overgeneralized categories, it would be the last one. I am neither in a romantic relationship nor incredibly spiteful toward those people who are in relationships, so I can't say I belong in the first or second group respectively.<br />
<br />
Let me reiterate: I am not bitter about my single status. My lovely friends reassure me that the right guy will come along eventually. And I think they're right! I just have to trust that someone other than me has a hand in it. Once I'm out of school, I think guys will be less prone to be intimidated by my intelligence. Particularly if I don't ever get a job! (The last two sentences are in jest, by the way.)<br />
<br />
All that being said, I see where the many people who loathe Valentine's Day are coming from. As noted in my title, the abbreviation "V-Day" bears a striking resemblance to "D-Day." A little history refresher for my readers, D-Day was June 6, 1944, the day the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy, France. The mission was a success, but there were a lot of casualties along the way. <br />
<br />
Forgive the loose and possibly distasteful analogy, but that's kind of exactly how Valentine's Day is for single people. Every way we look on Valentine's Day, we are subjected to displays of love that are not for us (like enemy fire). It can really hurt sometimes; thousands, if not millions, of emotional casualties I tell you!<br />
<br />
So, a few words of advice to those of you who are taken: try not to rub your happy relationship in other peoples' faces just because it's a holiday. But please do enjoy the day and feel extra grateful that you have somebody who loves you. Valentine's Day always reminds me that I have plenty of people in my life who love me, even if it's not romantic love. V-Day is a holiday for all sorts of love!<br />
<br />
I don't even feel like discussing the whole argument that Valentine's Day is an evil plot by the greeting card, flower, candy, and jewelry companies. We all know they make bank off this holiday! <br />
<br />
However, I do want to include a little something from my favorite movie, "500 Days of Summer." The main character Tom writes greeting cards for a living. He's especially good at it when he's high on love, but his work suffers when his relationship with Summer goes sour. One day Tom just can't take it anymore, and he goes on a bit of a rant about what "service" greeting card companies provide.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This is lies. We are liars. Think about it. Why do people buy cards? It's not because they want to say how they feel. People buy cards because they can't say they feel or are afraid to. And we provide the service that let's them off the hook. You know what? I say to hell with it. Let's level with America. Or at least let them speak for themselves. Right?"</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I'll leave it to you to interpret that. So I guess that's all, folks!</span></span><br />
<br />
P.S. Happy birthday to two of my best friends Katie and Lauren. I am glad I can focus on the fact that today is both of your birthdays when I don't want to think about Valentine's Day! ;)smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-12425704947213694572011-02-08T01:22:00.000-06:002011-02-08T01:22:54.346-06:00Procrastination and EducationThis is not a real post. It can't be a real post; I have a math test in 8 1/2 hours for which I still must do a lot of studying!<br />
<br />
So I guess it's an imaginary post! And what better to write about than what is currently one of my biggest troubles?! Advanced calculus? No. Although that really is my biggest problem right now, I doubt many of my friends would care to read about that. What I'm writing about is <b>procrastination</b>!<br />
<br />
Just about every college student I know claims to have a problem with procrastinating. You think we would've learned our lesson after the all-nighters, poorly written papers, and bombed tests most of us have had because of putting things off until the last minute. But very few of my friends have been so adversely affected by procrastination that they've sworn it off. Lord knows I haven't! Procrastinating actually <i>usually</i> turns out well for me.<br />
<br />
In the morning, I'll have to drag myself out of bed to take my test tired and bleary-eyed. But hopefully I'll be awake enough to spit out all the information I "learned" the night before on my test paper. I can usually pull off that much, at least. Too bad I'll probably forget loads of the material as soon as I leave my classroom. <br />
<br />
So what good will my procrastination do me? Well, hopefully it will get me a decent grade on a math test. But that really isn't what I should be striving for as a college student, is it? I really do want to learn, and I feel like the way the American education system tests my learning (and has tested my learning since I started elementary school) is not terribly effective. <br />
<br />
I may have a 4.0 GPA, but I don't feel like that says much about my intelligence or my abilities. I think it much more appropriately measures my ability to cram and spit out my "knowledge"on a piece of paper.<br />
<br />
There's the problem, and I wish I had a practical solution to propose. All I can really suggest is that our education should be more focused on experience and application rather than on memorization and regurgitation. I think it would better prepare students for the real world, whatever that is.<br />
<br />
But who is going to listen to what I have to say? I'm just an insignificant product of America's public education system.smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-87481318356914019882011-02-01T19:10:00.000-06:002011-02-01T19:10:28.280-06:00A Morning Without TwitterIn honor of the crisis in Egypt, I left all of my electronic devices at my apartment today. Okay, I'm lying about my reason; I was just in a big rush this morning and forgot my phone and iPod. It wasn't a political statement, but perhaps it's appropriate given the oppression in Egypt. The difference is that I'm on the Internet and able to post this blog now...<br />
<br />
Anyway, I felt super disconnected from the world (and totally clueless about what time it was) as I rushed from Ten Hoor across the Quad to Gordon Palmer and couldn't even tweet about it! I reached the 3,000 tweet mark yesterday, so you can probably infer that I am a prolific tweeter. I tweet when I'm feeling happy, sad, angry, annoyed, bored, pensive, and creative (and most often when I find something hilarious or appalling and need to share it). It's a great outlet to break up the monotony of a day.<br />
<br />
Since I didn't have that outlet this morning, I decided to do a little stream of consciousness thing on, get this, <i>real paper</i>. I cannot guarantee each of my thoughts will be shorter than Twitter's character maximum of 140 since I'm not writing on my phone, Twitter, or a word processor, but I'll try not to be too wordy. Enjoy the things I would've tweeted today:<br />
<br />
<ul><li>(As I was half running across the Quad to math class) Power walking is fun. It's boosting my metabolism to burn extra calories in class!</li>
<li>We just worked problem 2b from a section in our math book. Nerd behind me said, "To be or not to be?" Thank God nobody laughed.</li>
<li>Stop asking open-ended math questions and expecting any of the ten people in this class to answer. It's too early for this academic back and forth; just teach.</li>
<li>No joke for 3a, buddy?</li>
<li>What is the limit of my boredom as time in this class approaches <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>INFINITY</b></span>?</li>
<li>Why are there not clocks in classrooms anymore? It's like you want students to check their cell phones in class.</li>
<li>I am going to assume my math teacher let us out late. I may not have the time, but I feel like it's a safe bet since he always does.</li>
<li>Things I hate #1: Stupid assignments. I am here to learn, not to spend my valuable time writing an exam for this class. #givemeabreak</li>
<li>Things I hate #2: When it starts raining between classes.</li>
<li>(And so begin my GBA 490 "tweets.") I am obviously not cutthroat enough for the business school.</li>
<li>Gotta love the debate about cussing in the classroom. It doesn't bother me, but I don't thing censoring bad words takes anything away from the learning environment.</li>
<li>Most important qualities in a wife, according to a guy in my class: ambition > fitness > sense of humor > intelligence. Awesome, business school senior.</li>
<li>The girl next to me is breathing <b>so loudly</b>. You're awake, homegirl. Stop snoring.</li>
<li>Lakeside may have a lot of good memories, but the food and music are nothing short of horrendous.</li>
</ul><div>I wouldn't have actually tweeted all of those things. Mostly because I don't want people to unfollow me for tweeting every few minutes, but also because it's hard to text in class sometimes! Haha.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Anyway, that was my morning and what I thought was an interesting reason to update my blog for the first time in a week. I hope you enjoyed my rambling!</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-21086883619207984382011-01-25T18:48:00.001-06:002011-01-25T18:54:48.959-06:00My First Picture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug_aHqeLSFP37h10oZo2IAWwp8CTKo73gtEFoXI-ZP-86AZDNYhkvHd4vWsFTahnCd3hyphenhyphenDySsTdmzH7p1H8_IFPSzz-Mj5-JrGl5abY3G-VhnAyzdkOAFBvZ3q7B2kZDglo3YNdNMgoY/s1600/Arrangement20110125_0017LampEDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug_aHqeLSFP37h10oZo2IAWwp8CTKo73gtEFoXI-ZP-86AZDNYhkvHd4vWsFTahnCd3hyphenhyphenDySsTdmzH7p1H8_IFPSzz-Mj5-JrGl5abY3G-VhnAyzdkOAFBvZ3q7B2kZDglo3YNdNMgoY/s400/Arrangement20110125_0017LampEDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So this is my first attempt at taking and editing a picture. It could be worse, right? We have had our cameras since last Wednesday, and I got mine from my camera partner on Sunday. It took me a while to figure out the basic shutter speed, aperture, and ISO settings, but I think I've got it down for inside pictures. I've yet to take an outside picture, but I already have some planned in my head for the coming days...<br />
<br />
We learned basic photoshop functions in class today, and then we got to take a crack at it by editing our own pictures. It was kind of overwhelming, and I wanted feedback on everything I did. Unfortunately, that's not possible when our teachers have to deal with something like 15 amateur photographers. I think I did well all by myself, though!<br />
<br />
I plan on spending an inordinate amount of time taking and editing photos this semester for my photography class, assuming my real classes don't kill me. More pictures should be coming soon!smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-85435029964848809042011-01-23T14:42:00.002-06:002011-01-23T14:46:21.059-06:00Capturing LifeIt looks like Sunday is my blogging day. It is a good thing to squeeze somewhere in the mountains of homework I should be doing.<br />
<br />
I haven't felt like I have anything to write about this week. My classes are too dull to bother describing. Besides rock climbing and photography, that is!<br />
<br />
We learned how to tie all our knots in rock climbing this week. Then we learned the whole "on belay," "belay on," "climbing," "climb on" thing. And once all that safety stuff was out of the way, we climbed! It was a wee bit scary, but I made it to the top of what I'm sure was the easiest wall with Laura belaying me. Belaying Laura was more challenging for me than climbing was, for sure. I need to practice. And I have to in order to get my advanced belay card.<br />
<br />
This week was my first photography class, and I'm anxious to really get going. We got our camera partners, checked out our cameras, and started learning immediately. I'm so used to my dinky digital camera with all of its automatic settings. I'm very interested to learn how to do all these things manually with a nice digital camera. I don't have a natural talent for photography, and I'm not particularly creative, but I'm taking this class to hopefully better myself in these areas.<br />
<br />
I'm hoping to start posting some of my photographs on this blog once I really start taking pictures. Don't make fun of me; let's just hope for improvement over the course of the semester!<br />
<br />
My camera partner brought me the camera this morning, so I guess I'll start messing around with it today. My theme is "arrangement"... we'll all have to see where that goes!smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8448343569123782486.post-81477939619340729312011-01-16T12:16:00.000-06:002011-01-16T12:16:50.281-06:00As Promised, A Post About My Future<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Where better to find inspiration for my blog than from what is about to take over my life again? I mean school, of course.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I am three school days into my last semester. It's only been two days, really, since I don't have class on Fridays this semester. Hooray! I have been to all of my new classes except photography, and being in one meeting of each class has given me a little time to think about things.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The four academic courses I am taking (meaning not photography or indoor rock climbing) are Finance 301 (Intro to Financial Institutions and Markets), Math 382 (Advanced Calculus), Economics 471 (Econometrics), and GBA 490 (Strategic Management). They each promise to be challenging individually, and I am somewhat regretting taking them all simultaneously my last semester. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I feel like now is a time to soak up as many experiences as possible rather than to soak up as much "knowledge" as possible. That's probably not ideal for a college senior to be saying, huh? It's not that I don't love to learn. I really, truly do, and I always have. But I don't really love school anymore or <i>what</i> I am learning in college. I want to learn what I want, and I don't want to be pigeonholed into learning what somebody else has decided an economics and math major should.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'll go ahead and say what a lot of you are probably thinking: It's my own fault. I know I should've picked a major I enjoyed instead of just falling into something. But I didn't, and it's too late to go back now. I just need to go forward! The decision I have to make is whether I want to stay on a math-y or econ-y track or if I want to start over with a clean slate post-graduation.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I loved math and economics once upon a time. Algebra and calculus were my favorites! Principles of microeconomics came to me naturally. It's just that my taste for these subjects soured as I learned more and more of each. I want how I relate to my field/job to be like a friendship (or relationship... but that topic should be saved for another post); I want the bond to grow stronger as my career and I spend more time together. I need to find something that can keep me interested and motivated!</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I can't help but wonder how many people ever actually have a moment of total clarity concerning their career. I've been told by plenty of adults (I mean older adults since I'm basically an adult now... uh oh) that they sort of just fell into their job, whether or not it was doing something they had learned in school. Maybe I wouldn't mind falling into a career; I can only hope it is more successful than falling into my major.</div>smandersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02815490476435698994noreply@blogger.com0