There was a wriggly caterpillar or silkworm-type bug dangling from a thin thread right above my head. It danced up and down, threatening to fall onto my lap at any moment. While I glanced precariously at the jitter bug every few seconds, the president of UVA was talking about safe sex.
"Gentlemen, remember that 'No' means 'No'."
Was there a point to all the statistics that Mr. Casteen had just recited to us about the incoming freshman class? Was there a point to this feeble attempt at preventing sexual harassment on grounds?
"And now, may the person closest to the 7th lawn room will please look under the welcome mat and bring me the letter hiding beneath it?"
What? There was a secret letter hiding under a welcome mat? My eyes averted from the dancing caterpillar to Mr. Casteen, who was now receiving a letter from a young lady who clearly felt that she had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. In the distance, the bell tower stuck 7.
"We, the society of the sevens, would like to welcome the class of 2013," read Mr. Casteen.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was experiencing an encounter with one of the oldest secret societies of UVA! OK, so it wasn't a direct encounter but still, as a part of the class of 2013, I think that I should count myself welcomed by the Sevens. It was all so surreal: the letter under the 7th lawn dorm, being read at 7PM sharp, and the donation of $1,777.77 to our class council. I chuckled as I thought back upon the sex talk our president had tried to give. Perhaps he was just trying to buy some time so that this strange but exciting tradition would be played out perfectly.
I felt extremely lucky to be sitting on the very lawn that Thomas Jefferson designed, in the very seats that the late Senator Kennedy, Katie Couric and many others before me had sat. The experience was overwhelming to say the least. I was actually in college. I would be starting classes soon, trying new activities, trying to make new friends all while trying to keep in touch with the people whom I've already grown so close to over the past 12 years of my life. Would I be able to do everything that I want to do? Would I be able to create a new life from a clean slate? I hope so.
Thinking about my previous entry, I realized that it could not be more relevant to my life, especially now that I'm starting my 1st year of college. I don't want to be defined just by my skin color or race, or by a single activity that I'm involved in. It's the compilation of all of these things that make up who I am, so I will not be afraid to try the Fencing club or the Ballroom Dancing club or any other activity that isn't typically "me". I will try everything that my heart desires.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Ambi-
-dextrous
-guity
-valent
I never realized how fitting the prefix "ambi" is for me. Though I'm not ambidextrous, and I am only sometimes ambiguous and ambivalent, the definition of the prefix itself seems to fit my current state of life: meaning both and around.
I started packing some of my clothes (for real) tonight and I came across my ever beloved shirt-dress. It hung in the back of my closet, with all the other dresses, but as I tired to fold it carefully so that I would not have to resort to ironing it later, I realized that the material is closer to a button down shirt. As I pondered over which pile to put this shirt-dress-- the dress pile or the shirt pile-- I finally realized why I love the conglomerate article of clothing so much. It isn't defined by a singular term: either as a shirt or a dress. Because it has the properties of both types of clothing, it's in a category of its own, but at the same time, it can also be placed into either pile and be just fine. Perhaps my attraction to this strange garment stems from my own wish to be unique and "undefineable". I want to be ambi. Not, omni because I don't want to be ALL, I just want to be. . .a conglomerate of a few properties. And I guess along that line, I sort of want to be able to fit in and be accepted for my singular interests and characteristics while still being able to be an individual as a whole.
I'm going to stop here before this post starts sounding more and more like an college application essay.
I sort of just want to enjoy the moment of discovering a deeper meaning behind a little black dress.
-guity
-valent
I never realized how fitting the prefix "ambi" is for me. Though I'm not ambidextrous, and I am only sometimes ambiguous and ambivalent, the definition of the prefix itself seems to fit my current state of life: meaning both and around.
I started packing some of my clothes (for real) tonight and I came across my ever beloved shirt-dress. It hung in the back of my closet, with all the other dresses, but as I tired to fold it carefully so that I would not have to resort to ironing it later, I realized that the material is closer to a button down shirt. As I pondered over which pile to put this shirt-dress-- the dress pile or the shirt pile-- I finally realized why I love the conglomerate article of clothing so much. It isn't defined by a singular term: either as a shirt or a dress. Because it has the properties of both types of clothing, it's in a category of its own, but at the same time, it can also be placed into either pile and be just fine. Perhaps my attraction to this strange garment stems from my own wish to be unique and "undefineable". I want to be ambi. Not, omni because I don't want to be ALL, I just want to be. . .a conglomerate of a few properties. And I guess along that line, I sort of want to be able to fit in and be accepted for my singular interests and characteristics while still being able to be an individual as a whole.
I'm going to stop here before this post starts sounding more and more like an college application essay.
I sort of just want to enjoy the moment of discovering a deeper meaning behind a little black dress.
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