It seems unfair and almost inappropriate, given our profession, that we are set apart based on how many questions we get right on a test we take our junior year of high school. It seems that a better means to structure or select for a high-honors journalism FIG or learning community (which I fully support the concept of) would be to have applicants submit a writing portfolio for faculty to look over. That’s how you get the job in the industry, and if Missouri’s journalism program is about the hands-on method that it so strongly promotes, then it should make every effort to incorporate this into every aspect of their program.

Also, submitting the portfolio would ensure that those who were truly interested in journalism, and dedicated to it as a career path, would be extended the mentorship and networking opportunities that are hugely beneficial to a fledgling journalist. College is a great time to try new things and figure out what one wants to do (I discovered a love for anthropology this semester), but it seems most logical that those kids who are most set on journalism be the ones who are extended those special opportunities. While some of us on the seventh floor may be wavering in our choice of careers, there are those on the fifth and sixth floors who are committed to journalism and would love to be able to have the opportunities we have, but simply didn’t answer enough math questions right to merit a mentorship.

Which brings me to my second and final suggestion: incorporate and desegregate the floors. Our nickname for the “Penthouse” floor is no accident – to some extent, we seem to consider ourselves elite due to our FIG placement and our segregation into “us” on the seventh floor and the “others” on the next two below us. Facebook notes have been written to this extent, and whether it’s a joke or not, in every joke there’s a little truth. I don’t see the necessity for this segregation – it simply makes the journalism kids divided, rather than unified and able to collaborate. This greatly diminishes the sense of community (though it reaffirms it on our floor, but our floor alone), isolates the Honors Journalism kids (I’ve had several tell me that they hate coming up to the seventh floor because of the attitude they perceive from us), and negates possible opportunities for the collaboration that’s essential to making us better writers and journalists. By isolating the “smart” kids, it really does present an elitist image, one that we are not all-to-willing to take somewhat to heart, but one that distances others.

This seems even more unnecessary when one ventures outside of Mark Twain into a newsroom, since those boundaries disappear when one actually does journalism. Newsrooms are a great equalizer – at the Maneater, no one gets preference on a story because they’re in Walter Williams. People don’t even ask, simply because they don’t care. And they shouldn’t – what makes one successful is how well they write. An editor wouldn’t give a reporter a more important story simply because they were Walter Williams. In fact, when I started there, I had someone tell me “You’re one of the most normal Walter Williams kids…you’re not stuck up.” Is that the kind of image we really want to be presenting? In the newsroom, just as in the real world, who cares? It’s how well you write and who you know.

If the divide between being Walter Williams and “just” Honors doesn’t exist beyond Mark Twain, why do we create a barrier that divides instead of unifies?

These things I call on the coordinators of the program to consider in coming years, because while tradition is strong, sometimes innovation and change can be better – just what the field of journalism is learning now.

For example, the first time I read the fifth Harry Potter book, I thought Ron and Harry were kind of stupid, but five years later, I found them to be very relatable. And as a kid, I didn’t get what was so funny about Veggietales. Now, I think Veggietales is the most hilarious thing in the world–purely because it often doesn’t make any sense. (If you don’t believe Veggietales is nonsensical, just watch this clip about Louis the Short-Necked Giraffe. The moral of the story, in the words of my brother, is “You’re never going to fit in, so just go buy a cheeseburger.” How brilliant is that?)

But back to where I’m going with this. For me, the last semester has been about rediscovering the power of laughter in a completely new setting. Some of my favorite high school memories are about times I laughed really hard at  absurd things–like inside jokes with my little sister about the monkeys stealing all our granola bars. As a college student, I’ve found similar moments through kids I met at Centro Latino and some of my crazy new friends.

This semester, I had the opportunity to volunteer at the Centro Latino through my Advanced Spanish Conversation class. One of the programs I got to participate in was the after-school program, for which you basically get school credit to play with little kids. Playing with kids at the Centro was an incredibly fun experience for me, because I got to take a break and act like I was a kid again. And trust me, after going to class, doing homework, working on a research project, and writing newspaper articles, you need that break.

I got to play hide-and-seek, go to the park, and talk to kids in Spanish. One time, I played pretend with a girl named Jennifer, who told me that she was the teacher and I was the student. She informed me that I wasn’t allowed to talk without raising my hand, but I thought this was rather unfair, and so I exclaimed “¿Por qué?” many times and ended up with about 500 hours of detention. We both laughed really hard. Moments like this left me inspired, and I returned to my family over Thanksgiving break even sillier. My little sister and I built an epic pillow fort, sent random people on MLIA missions, and ninja-attacked my brother.

My college friends have also made me laugh when I really needed it–even through the not-so-fun experiences, like when my roommate’s car got stuck in front of Gillett, blocking the road and leaving us stranded without food, just as Paige’s favorite song came on the radio (“NO! Tonight is NOT going to be a good night!”). Of course, there have also been the less stressful, lighter moments, like when my friend told me the elaborate, vivid story about my roommate’s painting, which apparently depicts a Phoenix who was shocked by lightning through a power line and then reborn. In return for the laughs, I have introduced him to MLIA.

In the end, these moments of laughter have a life-giving power for me, and I can’t imagine my life without all the people who make me laugh. I like how Pablo Neruda describes laughter:

“No me quites tu risa. … Si de pronto ves que mi sangre mancha las piedras de la calle, ríe, porque tu risa será para mis manos como una espada fresca.”

Or in English:

“Don’t take from me your laughter. … If suddenly you see my blood staining the stones of the street, laugh, because your laughter will be for my hands like a fresh sword.”

Obviously, that’s the worst-case scenario.  Before arriving on campus, the logical part of my brain was confident that I would meet people to hang out with and that all would go well, but of course there was still that small part of my mind that was entertaining the worst-case scenario.

Interestingly enough, it was in a room full of turkey cheese wieners that this worst-case scenario was banished from my mind.  And, when I refer to a room full of turkey cheese wieners, I literally mean that there were boxes, bags, and trays everywhere filled with raw hotdogs made from turkey and filled with cheese.

It was not an appealing sight, and as part of Step Forward Day, our job was to work in this room at the Central Missouri Food Bank and to fill plastic bags with turkey cheese wieners for approximately three hours.  Sounds miserable, right?  Well, it certainly wasn’t the most enjoyable experience of my first semester in college, but sifting through boxes of turkey cheese wieners with others from the seventh floor surprisingly wasn’t completely miserable—I can look back on the experience with humor and not disgust.

We hadn’t been living on the seventh floor together for very long, so we passed the time discussing favorite movies and TV shows and some even composed a turkey cheese wiener song.  I knew then that if I was hanging out with people that could make sorting turkey cheese wieners bearable, then I could be sure that I wouldn’t have to worry about being miserable or friendless.

Fast-forward into the semester: If you were took look into the window of the kitchen in the basement of Mark Twain on a particular night, you would have seen a group of girls from the seventh floor baking cookies and busting a move.  With the lights off and the scent of cookies wafting from the oven, we turned up the volume on the ipod speakers, had a dance party, and let loose.  At this point, my worst-case scenario was an irrelevant memory, because I had found a group of girls that could do something as carefree and random as having a cookie baking dance party.

We’ve spent a night coloring with coloring books and a large box of crayons, watching Hercules and Muppets Take Manhattan, and most recently decorating the lounge with paper snowflakes, a paper fireplace with stockings for everyone on the seventh floor and a festive wreath.  These may not be typical college experiences, but I’ve certainly enjoyed myself, and overall I consider this first college semester a best-case scenario.

But before I go into that, I’d like to start off by saying that it’s been a ride. I mean, all of us came in with our own perceptions of what college might be like, but now we all know what it actually IS like. Some of us like it. Some of us probably don’t. But in the end were all here for the same reason: to have a good time.

But seriously, let’s face it. The four years you spend in college should be the best ones of your life; at least that’s what I’ve been told. “Develop social skills and meet new people” is the mission that I was sent on. In fact, one of the most profound pieces of advice I’ve ever received came from my uncle, a man who has enjoyed enormous financial success while holding a degree from Ohio State, a school not known for its academic prestige. He told me, “get good grades, but whatever you do, make sure that you don’t spend all your time studying. Its critical to have a good time, because not a day goes by where I don’t want to be back in Columbus (Ohio). If you spend all four years trying to get straight A’s, by the time you graduate you’ll look around and ask yourself, ‘when does the fun start?’ and next thing you know you’ll have a desk job somewhere.”

My uncle’s words stick with me, and there are many instances where I refer to them for guidance. But that being said, first semester has been a lot of work. More work, in fact, than I initially thought it would be. But, sure enough, I found a way to get most of it done while still having fun.

Dorm life has been cool. Sometimes it’s hard living so closely with so many other guys, but I’ve gotten used to it and it has its perks. I was pleasantly surprised with the dorm food here at Mizzou, and also I’ve learned to appreciate the great facilities and resources available to MU students.

That being said, I feel like I’m ready to move out of the dorms. I’ve gotten my fair share of Mark Twain, and while I have grown fond of the people in Twain, I am genuinely excited to move into the frat house.

So, in a word, first semester has been a “transition”. While I have enjoyed my time here, I feel as though I haven’t really gotten started at Mizzou yet. Finals are not yet over, and I am eager to get into the Greek life experience. So, what have I learned? That college is about balance. Balance between your schoolwork and social life. Balance as in your checking account balance, which is dismally small. Balance between you and your roommate. It’s all about balance. And I believe if I can find the right balance, I’m going to have a solid good time at Mizzou.

So far I’ve remained mostly inactive in clubs and organizations but for now I prefer it that way because I am still trying to teach myself to manage my time really efficiently. I have enjoyed my classes this semester and participated in a lot of the great opportunities Mizzou offers students. Since coming to Mizzou I have utilized the Rec Center a lot and it has helped me stay in shape and even improve some areas of my fitness. Also, I have used Ellis Library a lot in recent weeks to improve my study habits because of the quiet atmosphere and quick resources.

Beyond schoolwork, life as a freshman has been really rewarding. I never thought it would happen so quickly, but I have made some really good friends here. Some people I gotten to know so well that I have been invited to stay with them over winter break, and most everyone I meet makes me want to share my home town with them. Most of all I never expected to find new best friend material in my first semester. See, I left a huge, very close-knit group of friends in high school when we all left for college and I was very concerned that I would really lose out on all lot the activities we did together.

At home, I could always find solace in photography and my friends loved having me take their pictures or perusing my portfolio every time I added photos to Facebook. At Mizzou however I felt very distant from my passion even though I knew I was in the right place for photojournalism. I just couldn’t stand taking a 6-month break off freelance shooting and just all around enjoyable photography. I began feeling depressed because my classes weren’t as involving and interesting as I had hoped and I had no escape in my free time.

Then came Vince. Vince lives in the room next to me but not my suite mate. In mid-October, Vince and I were both going through a rough patch in adjusting to college and dealing with girls. We listened to each other’s problems, there were a few pep talks on each side and I knew that Vince was a better, more real friend than most people I had met so far.

In early November I took a weekend trip to Chicago to visit a high school friend who was going to school at Depaul University. The time away from Columbia helped alleviate some the stress and pressure I felt from classes. Afterwards I was able to focus and apply myself much better on my papers and tests assigned before Thanksgiving Break. Immediately following break, final papers and projects in nearly all my classes began to pile up, and it looked like a debilitating stress level might arise from the workload. Fortunately though, this I got by with a little help from my new friends.

This semester has been sad, exuberant, rewarding, sleep depriving, fun, chill, sweaty, hot, cold, early and late mornings, coffee and soda, hard, easy, long and short. I have learned more about human nature and myself this semester than all of high school could’ve taught me. Though I have had a great time, I would never consider repeating this process, as I don’t think I could survive round two. I’m looking forward to next semester more and more with each day that brings it closer.

I’ve really found a home here in Columbia, and I wish it wouldn’t go by as fast as it is. But I know that, as time goes on, it will just go by faster. It’s funny because my dorm room reflects my personality so much better than my room at home to a point where I feel like a stranger in the room that I grew up in. Also, the friendliness of the people downtown is remarkable to me, and it makes me feel like a part of this community. I stand in awe of the beauty of this campus, and feel lucky to be a part of it. So lucky, in fact, that I can’t wait to someday show my kids this place and how proud I am of it.

When I go home, I’m reminded of how amazing my friends at school are. Instead of sitting in someone’s basement, watching other people play video games in silence, my friends here like to go out and have a good time. They like to take long drives to experience something totally new, and most of all, they are considerate and thoughtful. I feel loved and appreciated, and when I go home I miss them very much.

I had a feeling that Mizzou wouldn’t be so hard, and I guess I should have listened to my gut. My high school was extremely challenging, and I find a perfect balance here. The professors actually want you to learn the material, instead of forcing it down your throat. Also, I have the option of taking classes that interest me, and I enjoy that. I have learned to love learning again, and truly feel motivated by the faculty to succeed and grow.

Overall, my semester has been extremely satisfying, and it is safe to say that I am the happiest I have ever been.

(Ahh free form at its highest.)

1. Volunteering can be pretty cool. Working at the food bank was actually a rewarding eperience… I honestly never want to eat a cheese filled hotdogs again, but they head guy there gave us an awesome tour at the end that really made it worthwhile. The cool part is too, you volunteer in the morning, and after you go to lunch with your friends and feel great about “being a good citizen” and such all day. Just make sure to pick something you wouldn’t detest doing for 4 hours (AVOID yardwork) and it won’t be so bad.

2. Campus police are pretty nice. Still, no matter how bad you have to pee, hold it. Seriously. Also, just be honest with them and they’ll work with you. If your not a complete moron you’ll be ok.

3. Roommates take getting used to. I think 95% of people spite their roommate at one point. At some points I definitely wanted to kill James; it wasn’t that he’s a bad guy or anything, its just that I wasn’t used to living with someone else. Once you adjust to the lifestyle its actually pretty nice. Those unwritten rules and unspoken boundaries take some time to get routine, but it does work out. (James I’ll actually miss you some next semester, but I know the frat is going to be badass for you. It was a good semester, and your a cool guy in my book. Same goes for Doug because hell, he’s like my half roommate anyway.)

4. Chill out. At one part of the semester I got super worried about grades and assignments and had this general sense of being overwhelmed. I think it came from knowing all of my assignments from the beginning of the year, as opposed to them getting assigned over time like in high school. I just felt this huge pile of work over my head and it got to me. BUT, I got used to it and having a weekly calendar helped ALOT. Just living day by day made things alot easier to stay on top of. In fact this “new system” helps you plan things out a lot more and is probably significantly better.

5. Go to football games–except when they’re against Nebraska and its freezing and raining. Gabbert will get better and next season is going to be sweet.

6. Be nice to your janitors/maintenance guys/tech kids. Seriously they will save your life. Mark Twain has some really nice employees who are here to help! When you see them wave or say hi! Its kind of the stigma to pretend like they don’t exist, or to attempt to separate yourself from them, but they are people too! Don’t leave your room immediately when the cleaning person wakes you up at noon… say hello and ask them about their day,etc. Seriously, even the little, “meaningless” banter ends up meaning a lot.

First semester is a great experience, and to all you incoming freshman, you will survive!

But being open to people and getting to know them really helped me out. And after I opened up and started making friends, it kept getting better because my friends were in the Walter Williams FIGs. It makes it that much better that we’re all in the same boat. We’re “at the bottom of the totem pole” together. We’re away from home, studying journalism, and in a lot of the same classes. We can all complain about how much reading we have to do for ancient world (not any more!), or stay up until 1:00 studying for the stats that we don’t really understand. This sense of community got me through my first semester.

We’ve all stuck together, especially through the rough times. You don’t meet friends like that every day. And when we go through situations as a group, it’s not so bad. It’s like Finding Nemo when all the fish caught in the net keep swimming and eventually break free. One little fish couldn’t break the net on his own, but with all the others in a group effort, he can accomplish something. So I’m grateful that I joined this FIG and was able to experience my first semester with all the other little fish.

Mizzou seems like a smaller fish bowl now. “The Twain” and the other ‘fish’ here have provided me with countless laughs and a broader knowledge. Where would I be if Andrea didn’t walk into my room every ten minutes and say, “You know what I just realized?”… and then walk out? I don’t think I’d know what to do if Ron didn’t creep on me from our connecting bathroom. I probably wouldn’t laugh as much if I didn’t hear Caitlin and Diana calling each other names from across the hall, or didn’t see Margaux studying in the hallway at 2:00 am.

It’s really a community when you can ask someone for help, make late-night Waffle House runs, or make paper snowflakes and other various holiday decorations in the lounge for four hours. And we have that here on the seventh floor. I’m glad I met all these people, and look forward to another great semester in our own little fishbowl that is Twain.

For example, I’ve met so many new people this semester.  I’ve made good friends through my FIG, through my friend’s acquaintances, or in my classes.  I’ve gotten to be really close to some new people, and it’s one of the best things about my life at Mizzou.  Having friends who live on the same floor is a great experience.  I love eating meals with everyone, and decorating our common room was one of the best things I’ve done all semester.  However, both my best friends, who I have known since grade school, came to Mizzou as well.  We’ve branched out a lot while at college, but it’s great to still be close enough to hang out or get together, especially when one of us really needs someone to lean on.  Also, I went to high school near St. Louis, so I knew lots of people coming here.  It’s not like I see them that often, but walking to class one day and saying hi to an old friend is a great feeling.

Class work has been easy at times, and also extremely difficult at times.  The flexibility of a college schedule is definitely a step up from high school.  Managing free time always ends up with me procrastinating and usually finishing homework at the last second—some things never change.  I have a continuing obsession with Facebook, but what college student doesn’t? It’s the most convenient way to keep in touch with my friends who go to other schools.  I also have a newfound appreciation for photoblogs—Tumblr is the newest way for me to put off schoolwork.  I absolutely love it.

Something I’ve done all semester is going out and shooting photographs at least once a week, but usually more than that.  Looking back through my experiences on campus, I can honestly say that I’ve had good and bad times here at Mizzou.  Though I’m really excited for break, I’m also looking forward to next semester already.  I know that overall, this semester has been great, and that the rest of my time at the University of Missouri will be filled with more life-changing experiences.

On move in day I finally got to meet the kid who friended me on Facebook with a profile picture of a Pokemon. We instantly bonded through my favorite video game Fifa. Obviously I beat Travis one to many times, because after one loss he “tried to adjust the XBOX” and when we tried to take the disc out there were several scratched rings along the disc. It was clear to me that he was a poor sport. (RIP FIFA 09)

I thought this would be the peak of our roomate problems but things only began to get worse. On the first day of classes my roomate thought it would be a smart idea to wake up at 6 am to go for a run. I don’t see how anyone would find this to be a good idea but he did for some reason. His blaring alarm clock woke me up and I could not fall back asleep. I figured if Travis were to get up so early he would have the decency to at least work out for a while, but of course I was wrong. Travis returned less than an hour later. Then after a shower he just sat on his bed for 2 hours before our class began. I laid in bed shaking my head. I couldn’t believe the events that just took place. The best was yet to come.

A couple days later I was sleeping once again, but not for long! Travis quickly noticed that i was sleeping and realized that he did not want that to happen. So he got up out of his bed at about 8 am on a day when i didn’t have class till 3:30 PM. He sat down on a chair next to my bed and began playing the guitar. I opened my eyes in disbelief. Is this really happening i said to myself. I tried putting a pillow over my head, but when your roomate doesn’t care about your sleeping process, it is clear you will not get sleep. I finally worked up the courage to ask Travis, “What are you doing” he responded with “Playing the guitar”, then I said “but why, can’t you see I’m asleep?” and then he said something I will never forget, he said, “Yea but sometimes you just get in the mood, and you feel it, and you just have to play.” I rolled over after that statement in disbelief.

At the beginning of the semester I would want to be mad at Travis so bad, but then when i would look at him I just couldn’t be. The poor little guy didn’t even realize what he was doing. He had the urge to play the guitar and he is a free soul so he wasn’t going to let anyone get in his way. That is what I love most about Travis. He is going to live the way he want’s regardless of what people think about him.

There are so many examples of how he’s done this. For instance, Zombies VS Aliens. I would look at Travis and just think to myself “What a square.” He would run around the dorm and shoot his little nerf gun and I would just shake my head and say “That’s my roomate.” When Travis got Swine Flu I took a greater insight into his life. His status’s were sad and dramatic about how he could no longer participate in the Zombies VS Aliens competition. I didn’t understand how much it meant to him. It was always just some stupid game that a bunch of kids played to me. To him it was something that he wanted to win at, and I am willing to bet he would have, had it not been for his illness.

Living with Travis has taught me a lot about life. Travis and I probably wouldn’t have been friends had we attended the same high school simply because we are polar opposites personality wise. With all this being said, I honestly can say I wouldn’t trade him as my roomate for anyone.

Although we may not agree on anything ever, and we have completely different opinions about every topic, he is still there whenever I need him.

This semester what i remember most is listening to Travis sing along to guitar hero with the mic. I remember every fight we ever got into. Every egocentric thing I’ve ever said said to make him shake his head. I remember when he didn’t know what high school I went to causing us to lose the roomate game. I remember seeing him get a burrito bowl instead of a burrito at Chipotle. I remember the nights at 1 am when I couldn’t sleep so we just talked for 3 or 4 hours about life. I remember the days we would sleep in past stats and I would look over at him and he would say “We can still make it”. And I’ll never forget when we had a Mark Twain meeting during the first week of school. The PA’s were talking about switching roomates and the proper process to undergo a switch. I saw Travis’s hand go up. I looked over at my friend Cam and said he we go. When Travis was finally called on he said, “Where do I pick up one of these roomate request forms?” The room broke out into laughter and I will never forget any of the times that we just laughed at together. We have more inside jokes then people I have known my entire life. See it is all of the little things that make college fun and that is what I am starting to realize.

While I have found myself complaining about Travis for the most part. I’ve also learned that he is the perfect balance to the way I am. I have also realized my first semester would have been nothing without him. So I just want to say thanks Travis.

In my last blog post I said that the most important thing I could take with me to a desert island was a teddy bear I’ve had since I was very young.  It has so much sentimental value to me, that I can’t think of it not being an important aspect of my life.

Yes, I play with NERF guns occasionally.  I play Pokémon on my DS if I get the urge. When I’m at home I usually seriously consider getting out my LEGOs and trying to build something unique and “functional” in the LEGO world.  Some people see these activities as a kind of weakness, but I think it’s one of my greatest strengths.

In Blink-182′s song “What’s My Age Again,” the lyrics towards the end stick in my mind.

“No one should take themselves so seriously/ With many years ahead to fall in line/ Why would you wish that on me?/ I never want to act my age.”

I value each second that I spend acting like a kid, because it means I’m spending a little less time growing into someone that I’ve never wanted to be.  I don’t want to conform into anything I’m not.  That’s not saying I’m not mature at all.  I grew up a lot during high school because I had to for some people.  I’m highly politically and religiously opinionated because those things are important to me and how I perceive reality.

Plus, I’ve never gotten how people can so easily throw away things that used to be important to them for the sole purpose of looking like a cooler, more mature person.  I’d hate to think I’m in the minority when I choose to keep something instead of toss it aside because it used to mean something to me.

I guess that means that what I’ve learned most during my first semester is, as cheesy as it sounds, that I have to stay true to myself.  I think I’ve succeeded so far.  I haven’t noticed a monumental change in my personality.  I’ve tried to be friendly most of the time and I’ve stayed honest with those around me.  I haven’t indulged in things I have no need to indulge in (other than Call of Duty), and my grades are pretty good.   All in all, my first semester of college hasn’t really changed me that much, nor have I learned a whole lot, except for the above.  I’ve learned that even though I’m in college and that I’m supposed to be turning into an adult, I don’t have to.  I would rather be myself than something I don’t want to be.  And I don’t want to be a conformist.

Statistics is the only particularly useful class I took this semester. The Ancient World? The work we did in that class, while sometimes enjoyable, will have minimal use to me in the real world. Principles of American Journalism? What I remember of it probably won’t be particularly relevant to a career in business. Personal Finance? That’s something I can shelve and hope I remember when I need to buy a house. J1010? Uh, no. Even if I was going into journalism, just a giant no.

But it’s simply amazing what happens when you move away from the family with whom you’ve lived for 18 years and go to a place where you have the opportunity to do (and study) everything and anything you want. Going back for Thanksgiving was interesting just because I saw how much I had changed, while everything at my house was still pretty much the same. Combine that with the fact that we’re living among our peers instead of simply going to class and socializing with them, and it makes for a completely new experience that, at least for me, teaches you things about yourself you never knew before. And for me, the experience that has dominated my semester is the realization that I had chosen the wrong major and school.

I had utmost confidence in my ability to take out emotion when I made decisions coming into college. That was before I realized that I made my college decision based quite a bit on emotion. I had loved being a writer and editor for The Spectator, the sports newspaper at my high school, and knew that I had done a good job as well. This elation made me focus on journalism schools in my college search, which inevitably led me to Mizzou.

I ignored the fact that I hated doing interviews and, in high school, mainly wrote stories that either didn’t involve interviews or only required a few, which I would usually fill by interviewing coaches and players I already knew well. I ignored the fact that I had always liked and excelled in math more than English. I ignored the fact that I would have to love the university in order to justify staying there if I decided to switch out of journalism, and I ignored the fact that, having lived near a big city my entire life, the chances of that happened at a small town school were probably lower than at other schools.

When all of these realizations hit me in the middle of September, less than a month into my college career, I, by my standards, freaked out. I spent three hours one afternoon in panicked thought about what the hell I should do. I thought of several wild theories, including transferring to the University of Maryland next semester. All the while, I knew that I had made a mistake and was hard on myself.

Eventually, with the help and support of my parents, pastor, and other people from home, I calmed down and started evaluating my options in a non-panicked state. I got back the sense of direction I thought I had when I came to Mizzou, and I now feel as confident as I was about coming to Mizzou that I’m doing the right thing.

But mistakes can only be helpful if you learn from them. The main thing I’ve learned is that emotional decisions don’t make a person weak. Everyone is going to make emotional decisions because everyone has emotions, and sometimes they become so overwhelming that they overrule rational thought. That’s not something that people can avoid for their entire lives. That’s what I had been trying to do, and when I failed, I assumed it was a personal failure. I now know that it’s just human error, something everyone has to deal with at some point or another.

I also realized that keeping emotions inside makes a person less aware of when they’re feeling them. I’ve always tried to contain my emotions, both good and bad, because middle school made me believe that showing them would only lead to ridicule. Maybe if I did that less, I would’ve seen the emotions that made me think I wanted to do nothing more than be a sports journalist.

Finally, I see now that college truly is a time to try new things. High school doesn’t have to be a determinant of what you study in college because there’s only so much you can study in high school. High schools offer a good liberal arts foundation, whereas colleges offer seemingly hundreds of majors, some of which have nothing to do with any class offered in high school. I assumed that because I did very well with journalism in high school, I should stick with that because I wouldn’t find something else that I could do that well. But I know now that my writing and math skills mean that I could do well in almost anything I choose as long as I think I wouldn’t mind doing it for a career. I will go to my next institution, wherever it may be, making no assumptions about what I want to do with my life.

Compared to the rest of my life, the last four months have been chaotic. But I’ve come out of them a better person, a more informed person, and I’m not worried about the future. I’m just going to enjoy college for now and assume that I’ll figure out what I want to do with my life in due time.

It seems like every other adult I meet is telling me to appreciate my college years, because they’re the best years of my life. Though this makes me anxious about living my college life to the fullest, and being grateful for it, it does make me stop and appreciate my time here. I cannot believe that one eighth of my college career is already over. Where did it go?

Scrolling through my Facebook pictures, I see it went to trips to Waffle House and IHOP, football games, hanging out in Mark Twain, visiting the Quad, and spending time in downtown Columbia. That’s funny, because when I try to picture my first semester, I get a jumble of images punctuated by memories of cramming for tests, trying to stay awake in class and pushing my way through essays and homework. I suppose I’m glad I’ve got those pictures to remind myself that school at Mizzou incorporates a lot more than school.

Likewise, Facebook tells me I’ve started and finished 13 books in the last semester, yet all I remember is hurriedly skimming pages of The Aeneid on my way to class. The Visual Bookshelf application let me keep track of the books I’ve read besides the ones I had to read for class. It reminded me of all the books I’d really enjoyed reading for fun in the past few months, like Lev Grossman’s The Magicians and Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye.

On the other hand, for a tool meant to share your activities with everyone, my statuses say very little about what I’ve been doing. Instead, they mostly have to do with music I’m listening to, random opinions I had, and whatever lines from music, TV, or music I felt like I needed to share with the world.

All in all, my Facebook page doesn’t say a whole lot about how I spent my first semester here at Mizzou. But I’m glad I did record all those photos and statuses and wall posts, because they really only show the fun side of things. Years later, when I do look back on my college years, and Facebook is what I use to reminisce, I’ll be glad that it shows my friends and my life outside of school.

My year at Mizzou began with rush, which looking back was one of the most insane weeks of my life. I do not think I have ever talked so much in my life. While meeting girls from all the sororities was enjoyable, receiving a schedule the next morning and seeing what sororities asked you back was not always pleasant. I came into rush without my mind set on one house; however, it was inevitable that feelings would be hurt. Our Pi Chi leaders kept telling us “trust the system.” I tried to keep an open mind, but after constant disappointment, I was losing faith in the system. There were times when I considered dropping, but I stuck through because being Greek was extremely important to me. I am so glad that I did.

On Bid Day, I received a bid from Phi Mu, which I was less than thrilled about. I went through the motions, giving myself a few weeks to try it out and decide if I wanted to stick through it. I had heard the stereotypes of “Phi Moo” and feared what reputation it might give me for being associated with them. I spent nights contemplating whether or not I should drop, but I now realize how absolutely stupid that was. The girls I have met in Phi Mu are amazing. I’m not exactly sure when the turning point was, but it would have been a huge mistake.

Homecoming was probably the most chaotic but most fun time of my life. While pomping was kind of a pain, I actually really enjoyed it. Hanging out with my sisters and the guys of Ag Sig and Delt Sig was a great way to start off the year. It gave me the opportunity to meet a lot of people and get closer to the girls in my pledge class.

I now look forward to sorority events, getting more involved with the chapter and moving into the house next year.

In addition to Phi Mu, the seventh floor of Mark Twain has truly become my home. The people have made my first semester so much more enjoyable. Whether it’s just us hanging out, watching movies or eating as a huge group in Mark Twain Market, we all get along for the most part and have great times together.

For example, to celebrate finishing classes on Wednesday, a group of girls from the seventh floor essentially turned the seventh floor lounge into a winter wonderland. We spent the night chatting, making snowflakes, constructing a fireplace out of construction paper, making stockings, a wreath and other holiday decorations while listening to Christmas music. It was probably one of the most enjoyable nights of the last few months.

Along with meeting a large group of completely diverse people, I feel like college has made me more independent. I have always been a pretty independent person, but there are certain things you don’t learn until your parents aren’t around to do them for you anymore.

At home, I never did my own laundry. I’m not sure how many times I called home the first few weeks to ask whether this color could be washed with this color or if I should be using hot, warm or cold water, but in the end, I think I’ve finally figured it out. I have successfully made it through the whole semester without dying any clothes the wrong color! (Knock on wood)

I have also learned being sick away from home is not fun. I was never a sickly person at home, but for some reason I have been extremely sick since I have been here. The doctors never figured out what I had, but I had to learn how to take care of myself, although I did have some help from my lovely seventh floor neighbors. (Thanks Ashley!) Going to the store to pick up my own medicine, making my own soup, and getting cold clothes to put on my burning face were all new things for me. It made me realize how much my parents did for me at home.

Over Thanksgiving break I went to visit my sister in Rhode Island. After a week of being away from those people who have constantly been around the last few months, I truly started to miss the seventh floor of Mark Twain. It did not hit me until then how much fun I have had.

I have thoroughly enjoyed being at Mizzou, although at times it did feel extremely long because I have not been home. Being sick was the worst and not having edible food, but I would not trade the last four months for anything.

So while my friends have all stayed in California and have visited multiple home multiple times, I feel that I have become much more independent and value a trip home much more. After four months, I finally get to go home and sleep in my own bed and have delicious home cooked meals! Oh, and I’ve already planned trips to the beach, and to my favorite Mexican food restaurant for the day after I get back!

I was lucky enough to get a roommate I get along with and floor-mates in my major. That is far more than I can say for my friends at other schools and even my sister at the University of Illinois. What I did not expect was the bonding that would occur on our floor, or how I would eventually regard these people as not only acquaintances and resources for classwork, but as good friends I have really come to depend on.

As promised in the subject line, following are the five best things about the Fifth Floor of Mark Twain.

1. Group Dinners: Dinner may not seem like much, but fifteen people squeezed at a table meant for eight, laughing and chatting, is enough to make you forget finals, projects, and below-zero wind chill.

2. Group Movies: Sure, parties and staying out all night are typical college activities, but to me, nothing really says “Saturday night” like popcorn, a warm dorm, and Titantic with friends. You will always remember these nights, and best of all, you will not have to worry about a pesky hangover in the morning.

3. Outings: The Magic Tree, the Broadway Diner, Wal-Mart…the list goes on. Nothing beats good times with friends, and nothing really beats good times with friends who have cars.

4. Talks: I have good friends at home whom I can confide in, and I thought I would be sacrificing that when I came to school and had to start over. I was wrong. Whether it is boyfriend issues or unfair professors, there is always someone around to listen to me rant.

5. It just feels real: Although I have known them less than six months, I can already tell that I am making friends and forming bonds that will see me through college and into my life after school. It feels good to know that I am gaining not only an education here, but a support system.

There you have it. I could list for days why I love my floor and the people in it, but I won’t. I think its just important to realize that college has been more than term papers and frat parties. It means more than just learning about my career or networking. Those are the goals, but we all know friends are what get you through.

That’s changed since I’ve started living here. I still have the same friends to run around with. (along with a bunch of new and awesome people)  However, it just seems like nothing is ever going on.  Maybe it’s because of my marked lack of interest in running out to a “party” so I can have “fun” forgetting what happened over the weekend.  Maybe I’m just looking in the wrong place. Or hell, maybe I’m just whiny.  Either way, most weekends end up being a struggle to find worthwhile entertainment. Hint: Hey ya’ll let’s go to the city or something.

Another downfall of my first semester has been classes.  I have definitely learned to pick classes carefully.  Out of the six classes I’ve taken this semester, only one has really grabbed my interest.  I’m still holding on to hope that I can have a majority of fun classes once I get all those pesky general education requirements swept under the carpet.  Or it may be unrealistic to expect all of my classes to be interesting.

Despite these shortcomings, I think I’ve done a good job of adjusting my expectations accordingly.  I’ve managed to make all the typical beginner mistakes without spiraling into a devastating explosion.  If my classes have taught me anything, it’s to check the calendar often and not leave things to the last minute.

I’m looking forward to next semester.  It will be a huge relief to be able to start fresh and with a good idea of what I should be doing.  I think I may mark this past semester off as a test run.  I have all the kinks ironed out.  The dents are smoothed.  This time, I’ll know what I’m doing.  (Hopefully.)

We had just finished enjoying dollar burger night at Campus, and were walking around downtown CoMo, searching for something to do. It was six in the evening, and though it was still light outside, we were ready for the night. “I have a cousin in St. Louis,” one of my friends said. Almost immediately, she was on the phone with her cousin. Plan thwarted. Her cousin was staying with his girlfriend.

My other friend remembered he had a friend going to Washington University, called him, and suddenly we were in the car driving to one of the craziest two days of college thus far. After one short hour in the car, (Yes, only ONE hour. We basically flew there.) we arrived to the campus of Wash U, a mythical place where booze is allowed in the dorms and they have Bud instead of Natty at the frat parties. Needless to say, common sense had taken the night off.

When the night began to wind down, my friend’s friend was nowhere to be found. We called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. We tried to find his dorm, but it was hopeless. We couldn’t even remember the name of it. Eventually the three of us ran across a group of kids, and they directed us to a dorm hall where we could sleep in the common area.

My girl friend left with one of them.

Oh good morning common sense, where were you last night? OH, I accidentally left you in CoMo? My bad. I’m glad you caught up with us.

“Paige…. why are we in SAINT LOUIS?!?!”
“I don’t know, but we need to get the **** out of St. Louis.”
“We don’t know where E— is.”
“****.”

We went to my friend’s friend’s room, apparently he had been there the entire time, wondering what had happened to us. If only we could have found his place that night. We called E—, but to no avail. She wasn’t awake yet, typical of seven in the morning for most college students. We waited.. and waited.. and waited for her to call us back. Eight rolled around and she still hadn’t called us back. We called her over and over until she finally picked up.

We picked her up from the dorm, got in the car, stopped at a shady McDonald’s, and drove back.

What did we really accomplish?
Nothing.

Was it fun?
Yeah.

Would I do it again?
Not in a million years.

Moral?
Go out and have fun, but actually learn from what you have done. We were really lucky to have slept indoors. We didn’t have blankets, but we had couches. None of us are ever willing to do that again without a sure place to sleep.

(October 14th)
I went to see the Pierced Arrows (formerly Dead Moon) at my old high school (Hickman) today.

The walk was a little cold for sandals, but I’m gonna keep wearing those suckers until my feet are consistently numb, then I’ll reluctantly change over to shoes.

Anyway, if you aren’t familiar with the Pierced Arrows, or Dead Moon, then you are missing out.

Fred and Toody Cole, the husband-wife duo who front the band and sing lead/play Guitar and Bass, respectively, have been making rock music, in one band or another, for over 40 years.

Starting out in the pacific northwest, over the latter half of the 20th century the two rocked through Garage rock, Folk Rock, Hard Rock, Punk Rock, and even Alt. Country, to end up with a weird mix that can be best described as just Rock, stripped down to it’s primal, entropic core.

That’s really the only way to describe the music they make: it’s just Rock, and that’s all there is to it. They distort their guitars, turn their pre-amps up to 10, pare all effects off the vocals until nothing remains but the foundation. It’s loud, it’s soulful, it’s fundamentally authentic, and it’s some of the best music you can find (with difficulty) in this country today.

Yet they aren’t very well known in the states, outside of a privileged group of dedicated listeners and rock savants (I myself only know about them because I’m familiar with one such savant).

Instead, the popularity they deserve, and lack, in the U.S. is far, far, far surpassed by the popularity they enjoy abroad. It’s difficult to exaggerate the scope of their fame across the Atlantic; the Arrows can draw crowds of thousands of zealous followers anywhere from Norway, to Italy, to Germany, and across the pacific to Japan.

Hopefully that makes it easier to grasp the absurdity of them playing a concert in my old high school. Yet the concert definitely happened; the band drove down overnight from Cleveland and put on a 1 and a half hour set before shoving off to Kansas City for a gig at the Record Bar.

And I can say, with unabashed confidence, that it was one of the greatest performances I’ve witnessed in my life. They played powerfully, loud, and fast and every kid in the theater couldn’t help but stomp a foot and get agitated. It was as though, because the rock the Pierced Arrows play is so basic and primal, everyone from the MUSE’d out techno-rocker, to the skinny-jean wearing Saosinner, to the Iggy and the Stooges-listening misfit felt it in their cores.

Because I could never do the group justice I’ll attach some links, but if you ever hear about a Arrow’s show within a 200 mile radius, be sure to go. It’ll change your attitude towards music itself.

Dead Moon Night

So far.

It seems, among my friends from High school, that I’m the only one. Maybe it’s just because I’m taking some classes that I’m not really interested in, or I haven’t really found my niche here, at least I really hope that’s the case because, if not, I’m absolutely lost.

If things aren’t any better next semester I guess I could transfer, but what good would that do? Different scenery I guess.

I want to learn a lot of languages, travel a lot, and make music. I want to do those things because I’m pretty good at them, I love going new places, I love learning new languages, and I love making music. I think (my parents think) that I should get a degree to fall back on, in case making music doesn’t work out.

But what’s the point?

Stability, security, income, etc. Why would I want any of those things if, to attain them, I have to spend the rest of my life doing something I dislike?

These are not novel thoughts, but they are thoughts that I’ve been having quite often here (at college). You’re probably supposed to be lost your first semester in college, then you’re probably supposed to figure out what you want to do with your life during college.

But, in my naiveté, I think I already know what I want to do. I want to be in a band and tour 200 days of the year. I want to play music every night and get lost in the transience and soul that is true life, true living.

But I should probably get a degree. Absolutely. Righto.

That’s what a friend of mine told me. She cited Lady Gaga’s time at the Tisch Performing Arts School (though she never graduated) and Kristen Chenoweth’s degree from Oklahoma City University as examples.

Because, in this uncertain, highly competitive, day and age everyone needs a degree to get ahead. Then everyone needs a Master’s to get ahead of the people who got their degrees, and then a PhD to get ahead of everyone who got their Master’s, and in the end everyone has a PhD and everyone wins. Great job!

I guess it’s only been one semester, and I have a lot to learn.

It’s clear on the show So You Think You Can Dance that the contestants can dance.  Every episode is an explosion of leaps, kicks, turns, and talent as the contestants vie for the title “America’s favorite dancer.”

“Did you see that lift? They way she spun through the air? The way he just caught her? Oh, wow.”  All I can say is that if you’re not watching So You Think You Can Dance, you’re missing out on seeing a display of grace, power, and talent unparalleled on TV.  And, please, don’t even try to compare the show to Dancing with the Stars.  Why would I watch an obscure celebrity do a mediocre rendition of a ballroom dance when I could watch a krump dancer gliding across the stage in an elegant fox trot?  Or two dancers bouncing across the stage as crash test dummies in love?  Or a dancer flipping over a table in an intense jazz dance interpretation of a business deal?  Or an angry couple stomping and leaping on opposite sides of a closed door, arguing through dance?  The point is, like I said, these people can dance.

When I watch the show, I want to pause the TV on every leap so I can admire the dancer’s extension and form.  I want to fast-forward and rewind to watch each lift and turn multiple times and just marvel over the dancers’ skill.  I literally think that I could spend hours on YouTube watching dances from past seasons.  The truth is probably that I just wish I could dance like the contestants on So You Think You Can Dance, and watching them is like feeding my secret desire to be a rockstar dancer.

This past summer was Season 5 for So You Think You Can Dance, and I was determined to take advantage of the lack of schoolwork to make the show my summer obsession: I was going to watch every episode and I was basically going to be a super fan.  However, I seem to carry a bit of a So You Think You Can Dance curse.  Whether it was simple forgetfulness, illness, or unfortunate scheduling, I seemed to always miss the show.  Fast-forward to Season 6 and one of my first weeks at MU: just as I was sitting down to enjoy two hours of dance, a harsh ringing interrupted.  It was a fire drill.  Since I’ve been here at Mizzou, the fire drill, a mysterious absence of sound from channel 4, and problems with the TV connection have interrupted my So You Think You Can Dance viewing experience.

Nonetheless, I’m still an avid fan of the show.  Search some dances on You-Tube: you’ll understand.

Coaches are present in all major sports. Their responsibilities may vary from team to team, but they are always supposed to be “leaders”. Or at least we would hope.

Many times, however, this is not the case. League officials throughout all major sports are too lenient on coaches. Take, for example, the NFL. There has been a steady decline in class and sportsmanship among coaches, and it has begun to affect players’ actions as well. Here are some interesting double standards instituted by commissioner Roger Goodell and his staff:

In a league where a dress code violation can cost a player thousands, professional coaches like the Patriots’ Bill Belichick and the Broncos’ Josh McDaniels are showing up to games dressed as if they were watching from their couch, not appearing before millions on television. The problem has reached such a large scale that one time 49ers coach Mike Nolan got public attention for showing up to games in a three-piece and tie. Headline: “Man Wears Suit to Work”. Doesn’t sound like news to me. Thank you Mike Nolan, for showing us how “grown ups” dress.

In a league where unsportsmanlike conduct can land a player on the bench for 3 weeks, NFL coaches like the aforementioned Bill Belichick leave the stadium without even shaking hands with opposing teams after games. Belichick was also found to have cheated by videotaping hand signals in the infamous spygate scandal. Hey, as long as he wins games, who cares? Right?

In a league where fights on the field can ruin an otherwise entertaining game, coaches like the Atlanta Falcons’ Mike McCarthy are throwing punches at opposing players, specifically the Redskins’ DeAngelo Hall. Tailback Legarrett Blount was suspended for his entire senior season at the University of Oregon for just that kind of thing. McCarthy got fined 10 grand, while Blount probably lost millions in draft money.

In a league where teammates arguing on the sidelines will gain national media coverage, Raiders head coach Tom Cable slugged an assistant on his staff and broke his jaw. Thankfully though, league officials dropped the hammer on Cable, a man with a history of domestic violence, and forced him to take what I assume was a grueling anger management class. If there are any more punches thrown in NFL games, they may as well start playing them at the MGM grand and broadcasting on pay-per-view. Seriously. Friday Night Lights meets Friday Night Fights.

The bottom line is that coaches are the leaders of their team. We need to see more exemplary behavior from them. How can a struggling team like the Raiders win games if their coaches are brawling it out during practice? What kind of message is it sending when 9 year olds with hopes of playing professional sports see Bill Belichick abandon the postgame handshake? If coaches do not start setting better examples, our favorite sports could suffer serious moral degradation.