Ahh, yes, the good old days of youth group. Here's the gang my Junior Year at our Youth Center.  

18 Going On 80

Yes, the youngest kid in the Class of 2004 is finally 18 today. Usually, I would celebrate my birthday and enjoy being one year older but then days later someone bypassed me by a whole year in my class. Yet I didn't mind being the baby, in fact, it's kind of fun to tell people your 17 and your in college. Heck, it baffled my Shop n' Save customers that I was in high school.

So now I'm 18. The priviledges? Well, I don't need nag mom for her John Hancock for several meaningless forms anymore, I can get smokes at the gas station even though I despise the habit, and I can vote. Once I think about it, being 18 really didn't change anything. I'm still me.

Even though I still look like a 16 year old and I'm still in high school putting on a tennis skirt to go smack a few balls, I'm actually 18. I could give a hoot whether I looked my age or not. When it comes family reunion time, the other gals in my class who were puffers will show up to the class reunion looking like raisin from my Grandfather's house (And if you've ever been there, you know where I am coming from.) It really does seem like yesterday when all I really cared about was what was for dinner, when youth group was, and the next time my friends and I could hang out. Some of those have stayed the same but now I have added future plans, a boyfriend, schedules, and classes to my plate.

But being older doesn't change the fact that I am truly a kid inside with heart. I still love cartoons, Saturday morning breakfasts, church on Sundays, warm winter mornings, hanging out with old pals, being at John's house and just being me. No age can take any of that away. Being 18 only means there is more fun and wonders of life to come.

"The name of the Lord is a strong tower: the righteous run to it, and they are safe." Psalm 18:10

This photo is actually our window in the dorm. I was working on a project one day and looked up to discover a beautiful shine of the sun as it streaked in from all sides. I played with it a little in a photoshop and now it's currently my computer wallpaper.

Fireplaces in Edinboro

After a rough day, there is nothing like going home and being warm and cozy, sitting at the kitchen table and sipping a drink or watching a movie. Today was another rough and through God’s grace, I found a home: 316 Meadville Street.

It appeared I was the only one who ventured across the street and came for the 6:30 Bible Study at the home of Kristin Silva, Campus Ministry Coordinator. I met Kristin through e-mail before arriving on the Edinboro campus because I knew for a fact that I needed and wanted some connection to God due to the loss of the usual Sunday night youth group gatherings. Eventually we finally gathered for lunch one day at the U.C where I met a very nice and dedicated Christian. She kept me up-to-date about the things going on around the campus and various activities I could participate in. Of course, I’m still in my hibernation stage, and only do a few things a week. (I’m actually enjoying it quite a lot because of the transition from being a part of too much from Band to Youth Puppet Ministry to a simple bowling member of team RamRod and a jogger with my roommate.) I first went to the Bible Study last week and had a good time being in contact with other people that shared the same beliefs and ideas as me. I also enjoyed the atmosphere of a home- not a room or an institution, a home.

Tonight I had another pleasant experience. Since I was the only one who showed up for the weekly study, I chatted for an hour and 45 minutes with several people about childhood stories, food, the university, and just plain small talk. The house is a dwelling place to 8 girls in total. This classic and squeaky house is like labyrinth of rooms, stairs, nooks and crannies. Frankly, I loved it. The idea of being in a warm environment made my evening much better. They assured me I would survive the winter, who some good teachers were, (Becca, one of the residents, is a Graphic Design major who graduates this winter), and not to use toothpaste over twenty years old (don’t ask). Time away with people I knew I didn’t have to impress and laughed along with warmed my heart like a fire as it snows outside. It was just nice.

I guess there is nothing like good company; especially Christian company that you can go to. I am very welcome to come there to study or watch a movie anytime I like. And frankly, I may take up the offer in some spare time every now and then. Because some days you just need a fireplace.

Why, it's Rose Hall! This is where Miss Lindsay abodes in Edinboro. If you look closely, I am the second window on the 4th floor right of the tree in the picture.  

Brother, Can You Spare A Quarter?

There are times in life where you just want to crawl under the nearest rock around and stay there for awhile to hide from the public and to wallow in your own stupidity. There are those times, and one of them occurred today.

On the way back from College Writing Skills 101, I enjoyed the company of Liz, fellow classmate who lives on my floor, as we walked back to Rose Hall. We chit chatted about various things, mostly about that ditsy and crazy class. It is usually nice to have someone to talk on the journey back; it makes time go by faster.

So as we neared the doors, on the sidewalk my redneck eye caught the glimmer of a shiny quarter on the ground. First, my mind processes that this is an extraordinary finding. Usually you’ll find a penny or even a nickel, maybe a dime, but never a quarter. I gleefully exclaimed “Ooo! A quarter!” I stopped to pick it up. As I reached for it, the back of the brain sends me a signal that something is around this quarter, stop it, and don’t touch. Yet the money-loving side of my brain overrides the idea and proceeds to reach for the shiny gem. That’s when it hits me. The silly little quarter is glued down to the sidewalk. I quickly stop what I am doing and remain walking position, hoping there is not a sole around that saw the embarrassment that had just taken place. I chuckled at myself but in self-pity for my intellect, I wanted to run away like a humiliated school girl.

Now that I look back on it, it is funny and has caused me to think. (Danger Will Robinson.) This funny little prank at first angered me at the cruel people who devised such an idea to waste a precious quarter and fool people into picking it up. Yet as I look back, I would have glued down a quarter too for a laugh. I have inherited my father’s wit and silly and sometimes strange sense of humor; much like the humor you experience when you watch America’s home videos and see others making a fool of themselves on video. I guess a joke is a joke, never to be taken too seriously, even a little prank like this. Going on a rampage on it would not be worth the cost.

For Whom the Bell Tolls

I never get out of my Intro to Graphic Design class on time. While other kids are booking it out the door at 11:30, I am trying to finish up what I can in the classroom until the next class comes in at 12. Due to this time schedule, I usually get to hear the bells of Edinboro perform their joyful rendition.

The bells play on a loud speaker on the corner of campus, the same corner I have class in, and right at 12:00 is starts. First, there is a jolly tune at mixes a church him and a old folk song together. The rhythms seem off the first time you hear, but then once you listen closely, you pick it up and then it gets imbedded into your brain and plays in your head for a half hour afterwards. The second song begins and then finally the third. The last tune is much like the gongs of a grandfather clock that count the hours that have passed by. This five minute routine usually plays until I stroll into the lobby of my residence hall.

I personally enjoy the little tune that plays at noon. Not only does it give you a feeling that you just got out of church, it is also very college-esk for the campus setting, much like the pictures you see on brochures and such thing where students are studying under a tree or laughing gaily on the way to class. It always is a nice treat to hear the resonating tune every now and then as you walk from class to class. I guess it takes away the everyday rush and rap of things and brings you back to a world of afternoon picnics and carriage rides.

It's Mallory Lake here at Edinboro. As you can see if you squint, some duckies are enjoying the waters while they can before it turns into a penguin pond.  

Going Back to Follow their Dreams

College after high school seems to be the popular trend across America these days. Back in the days of my parents, when dinosaurs roamed the earth (just kidding), not everybody was picking out a university that was their favorite or planning years in advance for financial aid or funding. Most of them went out into the work force, and many still do today; college education isn’t the answer to everyone’s dreams. And then there are some who aren’t fresh out of high schools who are becoming freshman once again. These adults are hitting the books once again and for their determination, I give them my applause.

I can only imagine being older and going into this crazy environment. First off, they’re much more mature than many of their other freshman peers. Instead of boozing or napping till noon, their plans for the day are quite different. An adult may be paying bills or planning about their future or taking care of children at home. Second, after being out of school for so long, I can imagine that one would worry about grades and whether the old noodle could make it though the four years of learning. Third, their classmates are still kids. They can go back and remember when they were that age.

But those excuses are nothing in my book. These adults I see out on campus have a twinkle of determination in their eyes, courage to go against the grain and a great will to learn. They have cast the excuses aside and have decided that it’s worth a shot and to go for the gold. They, to me, are not just fellow students. They are to be respected for they have and will teach many lessons to others and myself.

For instance, a fellow by the name of Rick is in a few of my classes. At first, I spoke to him briefly, much like I did everyone. But as time grew on, Rick told some of his stories, where he has been, and what he has learned. It’s amazing that some of the most interesting stories come from adults who really aren’t as different as you and I. Yet they didn’t give up on what they wanted, and it shows.

Not giving up on what you want relatively goes for everything. No matter what, if you really want it, you can do it. To set those goals and to pursue them, that is courage no movie can make you truly see of feel. It’s really amazing to know God has a plan for everyone on this earth and that no matter what, everything is going to be ok.

So as for these ‘adults’ and their dreams, go for it. You never know who you’ll inspire.

Rabbit-like Behavior Rampages

It was amazing that it isn’t even a month in the world of higher education and I’ve seen it already. It’s happening so quickly, like reproduction and rabbits. You look here, there’s a new bunny, over there, another bunny nibbling on some fresh green grass. No matter where you go, you see this new form and then wonder if you’re in a weird college movie like American Pie or the season of winter has been completely skipped and spring has sprung. It’s evident that there are many forms and variations of it on campus. And it’s couples.

The new phenomenon of “hooking up” was already in process two days after the arrival of all the students on campus. At our first fire drill at 3AM, Manna and I stood outside in the cold, tired, grumpy, and in a whole new world that had gone from education and learning to alarms and confusion. As we stood mindlessly, we both noticed two sets of couples warming each other in a loving, bear-like fashion that was probably unnecessary. And worst of all, we stood there wanted to be held by our own boyfriends. I guess you could say it was envy.

So then more and more I continue to see couples walking to class together and googling over each other like birds in April. It’s even to the point where I overhear things in my classes about so and so who is flirting with this girl but has a girlfriend at home but is interested in this other girl too. Love really does add excitement on campus. No wonder people make movies about campus life.

Sometimes it was just scary in high school when the seniors noticed how strange and disgusting the freshman and sophomores could be in the halls. Sure, you may have your cute little crush, but can the butt grabbing and lip smacking wait until you’re at home? They were quite affectionate with each other publicly. A little too affectionate for many people’s tastes, including my own. Not only scarred the Seniors, but I can only imagine the damage on the young 7th graders.

The new couple business definably making things very interesting in Edinboro. It seems that a few college students have picked up on the idea of dating lots of girls and having a good time; just like the movies and stereotypes. But as for Manna and I, home is where the honey is.

John & Lindsay

Here's a picture of John and I for Christmas Eve 2003. Our one year anniversary is approaching October 21st.

The Kindness of a ‘Good Afternoon’

Certain things on campus amaze me or wow me at times like the other day when the squirrel was collecting nuts and then playing with a little squirrel for entertainment. But that’s just cheap humor. Something that really made me think was the kind good morning of a fellow on the sidewalk.

I was journeying back from my 2 Dimensional Design class and was nearing Rose Hall, very ready to eat as I smelled the food from our Café downstairs. As I walked along the sidewalk, a person who was vision impaired came along. As I got closer I looked at him and gave him a friendly smile. Then he returned the greeting.

“Good afternoon and how are you?”

“Good and you how are you?”

“Wonderful. Have a great week. Good bye.”

“You too.”

His friendly tone and kind greeting left me smiling as the conversation ended. Why can’t more people be so sunny inside and out? Many times you see people with a look of disgust and hate at the world but forget the very pleasure of breathing air and having a God who loves us all. I guess I kind ‘Good Afternoon’ is worth a shot, you never know who you are going make smile.

My Lilly Pad Away from the Home Pond

Here's the room of the imfamous "pulling a Manna" routines.

More than Hitting the Books

In today’s day and age, medical technology is at the greatest it's ever been and growing. New studies and research are going on around the world to cure diseases and crush cancer. Yet through all this information being discovered, the designers at Edinboro University forgot some of the basics rather than the latest and greatest news. They forgot about how precious your noodle is and the shell around it. It’s the only reason I can imagine they’d make bunk beds at the ceiling.

It’s a challenge, but rather funny, getting in to bed at night after a long day of classes. Or if my rommie and I would like to do some studying, we toss our book up first (for the attempt of carrying it and climbing the rails is rather too risky) and make the trip up to what some would call a loft.

We are getting used to it now. It’s kind of cozy that gives a ‘nook’ type feeling of shelter and warmth. But at first, the adjustment was a learning process; and we are still learning.

I can’t tell you how many times we’ve “pulled a Manna”. “Pulling a Manna” is where you hit your head on the desk, the bed, the roof, or anything at that. (This coined after a near concussion by my roommate on the 3rd floor due to the desk/bed contraption.) We’ve climbing into bed, smack, we’ve went to study, smack, we’ve went to get away from the smacking, and again, another smack. The night of our first fire drill at 3AM I don’t even want to imagine how many poor students who didn’t lower their bed sat straight up in bed to the sound of the alarm and were not only surprised by the noise but the throbbing of their noggin.

I imagine the amount of brain cells we are losing is devastating. I wouldn’t even consider looking at the list. Yet I will always remember my freshman year of ouch, bang, darn it, and smacking. How can you go on without it?

The Great War Between the Brain and the Number

I am a graphic design major as a freshman this year at Edinboro. Although some math will be required of this career goal, I do not plan to loathe in my mathematics classes, begging for more. In fact, I dread the very idea of Finite Math that is lurking in the corners of second semester.
I sympathized with my roommate as she and tutor Kevin (3rd floor buddy) dove into the textbook pages of additions and subtractions. This test Manna was cramming for was only multiplying the need to jump out our 4th window and land on a soft yet prickly shrub below. I, on the other hand, felt as if I were in kindergarten compared to her as I cut our text and pictures from ratty magazines for a project due Tuesday. She, on the other hand, yelled at the answered, scorned the problems, and tried to stay focused as the late hours came upon us all.
We do we need such pressure? Why the agony? In this room, 418 Rose Hall, we are art people, not numbers people. So therefore, a war begins between the Brain and the Number.

The Brain first knows that the battle will be difficult as it makes its way towards the Cooper Building where math courses are taught. However, the Number sees no fear in the fight that will soon begin. For he knows that his troops, Captain Square Root and Lieutenant Multiples, are more than capable for the task of boggling the Brain and all it’s forces in a quick take-over time: about five seconds.

The battle soon being where the professor enters the room and briefly goes over what he expects the Brain should know. On the other hand, the Brain is a little distraught because all these things that are expected of it were ignored in high school as the brain instead day dreamed about Prom and what kind of shoes were on sale at the mall.

The first assignment takes place as the time of class nears to an end. This is where the Brain is almost most defenseless. Here we have homework, taken out of the classroom, and no help or questions can be popped out to the teacher at a whim when trouble rears its ugly head. The Numbers troops have been patiently waiting for the decisive kill tactic of how to confuse, bewilder, and help forget everything that was learned in 50 minutes. Soon the mayhem begins.

Now the Brain has no idea where its at or why or how, illusions set in and days fly by as the chapters are whirled in a fast, tornado like fashion. The answers don’t make sense, the chapter notes are forgotten, and test time is on the way this Friday and the Number can smell another sweet victory. The Brain is scared to death. ‘Here I am at an educational institution. I cannot fail this test!’ The Numbers army snickers and rejoices at another score for the team. Wait though…the Brain has taken a different tactic…the tutor! This tutor, much like a Special Forces team that swoops in for the rescue. The Numbers, once strong and confidant, are now shaking in their eqations as the tutor teaches, reviews, drills, and pumps up the mind. Now the test is no longer feared with such daunting fear but with a hope that the numbers F and D are banished from the realm. The Numbers weep and groan in discontent. The Brain has made a comeback. And although the Brain is no longer superior to the Number, it sure has a great chance at winner the war on December 17th- the last day of class.

The Wonders of the Human Mind

It never ceases to amaze me that the human mind, a complex system of processes and functions, is so diverse and yet united. While one side calculates of the cost of your Big Mac the other can debate whether McDonald’s colors are red and yellow because of the clown or ketchup and mustard. I ponder at the intriguing statements of my psychology professor as he discusses many others who found the noodle quite an enigma and explored it’s actions. Yet sometimes it doesn’t take a college professor, not even a college student, to take a time out and do some thinking about the dust upstairs.
My first own analysis of the intellect of our minds came about when I fist came to Edinboro for college. First off, I was already a nervous wreck, crying everyday and yearning to go home into the arms of my loving boyfriend (crowd goes ‘Aww’) and to stroke the hairs of my dogs and cats at home. (Who most likely is taking over my room as we speak.) Yet I was forced at this institution of learning, abandoned and alone from all familiar territory and with such changes in my life other things changed as well. My sleeping pattern, a once strong, solid, and powerful force, was now restless and weary. But despite the unusual awakenings at 3AM, then 6AM, then 10 minutes before my alarm, my dreams were extremely vivid. I just don’t mean a dream about prancing ponies and fluffy bunnies; I mean in your face-wake up and think you’re still there dreams. Just a few examples of the weirdo twilight zone episodes include:
Dreaming of my boyfriend being mentally disabled and me taking care of him while my mother inquires about an outfit I am to pick out for a fashion show.
My roommate being abducted from our room by Edinboro police stating there has been an overabundance of enrolling students and Manna (roommate) has been forced to leave the campus. I, outraged and spitting in the police officer’s face, fight for Manna and we consider off-campus housing.
I return to Edinboro for my Sophomore year and instead of living in Rose Hall, I am forced to live in an underground dormitory, which in fact was quite lavish and beautiful, but dark. I exclaimed through the entire dream “I don’t have a window! How can I watch the snow fall?!”
I climb I tree at a house that isn’t John’s (boyfriend) but it is and I take digital picture of an elk that stared at me, charged, and then tried climbing the tree. Instead of fleeing in fear, I am joyous at the great shots I am getting.
A former high school yearbook advisor nagging me in the middle of these dreams asking me absurd question about the 2004 edition.

All these dreams were triggered by something the previous day. I talk about pictures, I dream about a camera; I think about the police, they come and arrest me in my dreams. The dreams are now slowing down to a steady pattern of meaningless dribble I wake up, rub my eyes, find Snoopy, and go back to sleep and forget. Yet every now and then, the mind will lock something up in a cage and say ‘Let’s see what we can do with you for the night.’ As you can see, maybe it’s not an analysis. Maybe it’s just the evident fact that I might need therapy some day.