Sometimes you just have to write sonnets.

I saw a pretty color here today

Quite early in the morning, as it were

But is it found in nature? Hard to say

It wasn't grass or leaves or branch of fir

But stunning green--it brightened up my day

And had a strange, compelling sort of lure

But like the summer winds, too short a stay--

and I just wish that I could have been sure

What you would call this color, if one day

You saw it in a paint shop--'Foam of Mer'?

'Electric Green', perhaps, or 'Algæ Bay'?

Or weirder--'Marshy Thoughts'? 'Elysian Shore'?

But I suppose you all will think it's rot

When you find out this was an ode to snot.

Haiku for a Rainy day

what is going on?

wetness falling from the sky 

weather befuddles :)

new necklace!

So this summer, one of the many interesting characters I met wore rather a lot of jewelry, and among his clinking collection was a necklace he'd made out of a guitar string. Being the sort of person I am, I immediately asked him which string it was...but his answer was disappointing, it was an E. It was still pretty neat though. 

However, it never really left my mind...so later this year, when I was talking with my many-instrument-playing friend here, I mentioned in passing that I'd always wanted a necklace like that, but not necessarily one from an E. 

Well, anyway, last night I got a text from her-- 'I broke a string! damn! but you can have it if you want.'

That's right. Ladies and gentlemen, I am now the proud owner--and wearer--of a G string necklace.

Common Grounds, Common Vomit

Things I take pleasure in:

• Listening to the marijuana posession citations of my next door neighbor
• Amusing snippets of conversation from passersby on cell phones
• Forking queens in hall chess tournaments
• Taking off my shoes after a long day of classes
• Finding something new to put up on my wall, because it means I get to use the yellow sticky putty
• Watching Battlestar Galactica into the wee hours of the morning with hall mates
  
• Watching really good Eugenian street musicians
• Watching really bad Eugenian street musicians
• 6AM Starbucks runs after a long night of paper-writing

Things that make me unhappy:

• Thinking I slept through my math midterm, only to learn that it's actually next week
• The lingering miasma of vomit in the hallway
• The intersection of 13th and University Street, where I am sure to die by bicycle collision
• Poorly constructed chicken pesto sandwiches from the cafe
• Only being able to register for 18 credits
• The agonizing wait for winter break
• Missing Alaska... just a little
  

On hearing about everyone's lives via pictures, narratives and haikus rather than one-line statuses

I just wanted to

take a moment to say that

this sure beats facebook.

Irish Dance Competition

curls, mullet-esque hair

girls wearing soft shoes and crocs

funny Irish dance

Is it sad to think of your life in terms of your facebook status?

When I go home, I

know what it'll be: 'So long and

thanks for all the fish.'

Coincidentally, I was just talking with another US exchange student about baking cookies...

Samantha's pictures

of delicious fresh-baked goods 

look great. I want some! :P

Old Food Adventures

So a few weeks ago, I was cooking with my mentee for Talent Match, and we somehow managed to royally screw up the brownie recipe that I have made with success approximately fifty-MILLION times...the batter was boiling instead of baking...it was REALLY strange (I was talking to Loni and we think Clarissa must not have put enough flour in). So I promised Clarissa that I would bake a new batch over the weekend and give her some the following Tuesday. With that task in mind...and because a family friend (Debi Clemson) had recently sent me a care package with a ton of muffin mixes, my friend Loni and I went on a baking spree. 

First we made fettucine with parmesan....which I realize is not baking, however we needed dinner as well.

Then we cooked up a SUCCESSFUL batch of brownies...I love truly homemade brownies, they are SO easy and much better than out of the box. We cooked them in a silicon muffin tin because we lacked a pan. These are brownies fairly torn apart due to their deliciousness.

And then we cooked three different kinds of muffin...granted, we were starting from muffin mix, but we didn't want to be boring so we ADDED STUFF! We added a mashed up banana to a banana nut muffin mix (delicious...but not pictured) we swirled lingonberry jam into a blueberry muffin mix, and added coconut to a different blueberry muffin mix. The batter of the lingonberry one was a really interesting pinkish purple color which contrasted strikingly with the neon green bowl we were mixing the batter in. The coconut ones turned out beautifully, we added some extra coconut on the top which toasted nicely...and sprinkled sugar on top which made the muffins sparkle. It was awesome...I was VERY excited and using quite a number of adjectives. I'll post some picture of me sometime...it was fun.
Pretty muffin checkerboard hmm? I was pretty psyched, Allison and Loni were teasing me about my camera-happy-ness. But I bet you all probably could have predicted I would take a few photos.

Your Hayden South ASU Correspondent Signing off...

Samantha <3

Someday

Rest in Peace, Missy Blackbird.
(classmate and friend)

Someday
by Aimie Cox

I picked a flower off the stone,
Wiped it off and took it home.
I gently hid it among the Pages,
So it may linger through the ages.
Color faded and petals dried,
I kept it ‘til the day I died,
And for the passing of each friend
To this task I would attend.

One day when my time has passed,
And eternity begins at last,
I’ll find within the Word of my heart
the flowers, fresher than the start,
A fresh, blossoming bouquet!
One day...
Someday.

Apple Cranberry Crumble

buttery crispness

cranberry jewels of tartness

sweet apples dyed pink

Fires in California

The sky is black with
smoke, billowing up from the
ruins of many lives

We cough as the sour
stench of burning fills the air
and pray, hope, for rain

In the theater,
girl on the phone with her mom
"Take my medals with you"

Evacuation
Many homes lie empty, wait
for return or flames

Cultural Differences

So when you go on exchange, the people who are supposed to prepare you for it go on for hours about culture shock and cultural differences and how essentially you're going to find the new culture weird as hell. But I'm in Norway, and honestly the culture is not that different...and the differences are mostly subtle, like calling adults by their first names and tucking your pant cuffs into your socks, not major cultural differences. One of the others is that they're not Puritan...meaning that there isn't really a strong social taboo against changing in public/in front of members of the opposite sex. There's a more practical attitude towards clothes, namely, warmth, function, style and so on...but things like all of the girls showering together after gym takes some getting used to. Well, anyway, I had thought I was totally used to this. But today...

I had an orchestra concert and we were there the normal two-and-a-half-hours early, hanging out backstage. Most of us had come in concert clothing but some people brought different shoes or something to change into, as it was pouring buckets outside. I was standing somewhat in the middle of the room, learning a norwegian fiddle tune while playing it (um...that sounds weird...but basically if i watch the other fiddler's fingers really closely i can play along and learn it as i go) when another violinist, a guy about my age, walks in. I look up briefly, get the nod, and then go back to concentrating. Said violinist my age, who is best described as 'dashingly handsome', puts down his case and motorcycle helmet, pulls out a pile of black dress clothing, looks around, and nonchalantly takes off his shirt, conveniently directly within my line of sight while watching the fiddler's fingers. I, uh, might have missed a few notes, but managed to not stare openly. But apparently I'm not as used to Norwegian cultural norms as I should be, because I was somewhat surprised when he also changed his pants. 

Souvenir

It was another fine day in writing class, with another 20-minute research paper presentation from another student speaking in another segmented monotone voice. The presenter was sitting in the professor's chair, gesturing vaguely towards the powerpoint presentation projected on the wall above the circle of inattentive students. The professor, sitting among us, toyed with his pen and wiggled his leg. He had apparently written all the notes he needed to. I could see his clipboard from where I was sitting, and there was mostly blank white space and a few scrawled lines.

What was this one about again? I thought, dosing off a little. I was still exhausted from a bout of strep throat earlier in the week. Corporate-controlled media? No, that was the last guy. Potatoes? Ah, yes. Potatoes. They are quite tasty. I think the dining hall has potatoes. Irish potato famine?

I looked out the classroom door where there is a little window looking out on the library courtyard. It was pretty sunny outside, unusual for the often stormy Eugene. Frequently, on days like those, the local acorn harvesters are sprawled out in numbers across the lawn, plucking furiously through the grass for their little brown turd-prizes. I discovered, walking out the library one day, that Eugene has a small group of subsistence users whose primary food source is the acorns that fall from campus trees. I was told this by an old lady in an extra long, extra ratty denim skirt. "They're toxic, you know," she said, holding up one of the brown, elliptical spheres. "Unless you stew 'em up, no good. But very nutritious, you know. Not very well known, you know." I got the distinct sense that she wanted me to join in on her pickings. Instead I got coffee in the museum gift shop.

My attention turned back to the potato presentation. How long can someone talk about potatoes? I thought. Too bad there was no Irish Starfruit Famine. That might be more intresting.

I looked out the door again. Only this time, obstructing my little window to sanity was a guy in a dark blue coat and backwards-facing baseball cap. He was coming in the classroom, looking straight at me. Or at least I felt like he was, I can't really be sure. As he came across the doorway, he withdrew a strange-looking device, and pointed it at the class.

POP! POP! POP!

I covered my head. The gun was quite loud. That's what I thought it was at first. When the noise ceased, I looked down at myself. I had been hit with arsenal suction cup nerf darts. I looked up briefly, and saw a flash of white. My professor was up out of his chair, grabbing the intruder by the neck, and putting him in a headlock out in the hallway. Students in the class were wide-eyed. Nobody really understood what was transpiring. But I could see I wasn't the only one hit; the darts were scattered everywhere in the room. Apparently, this nerf gun was of the automatic variety.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" yelled the professor, maintaning a firm choke hold. "DON'T EVER FIRE A WEAPON INTO A CLASS! SOMEONE CALL DPS!" It was really frightening, but also reassuring to know our professor would defend us (those who were left, anyway) from a potential assailant. Before, he looked like your basic nerdy graduate student teaching a class; now, his height and athletecism were clear. Our professor was tough.

"But it was just a joke! It's just a toy! Why the hell are you choking me? Agggh!" squealed the attacker.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IT WAS! NEVER BRING A WEAPON INTO A CLASSROOM!" Their struggle moved down the hall, out of sight and with less audible yelling.

This was all in the matter of fifteen seconds, so students were only beginning to register what exactly just happened. Some were smiling with raised eyebrows, and others were frowning. One student volunteered his cell phone to call campus police, as requested. And the student in the professor's chair seemed confused: should he continue his presentation? Or just call it a day?
He opted to resume. But no one was really listening at this point, because the student calling the campus police had made contact.

"So, uhh... a guy just came in classroom with a toy gun. No. Yeah. Yeah. Ummm... he's out in the hall right now, dealing with the guy. No. Everyone's fine... 184 PLC. Yeah, it was nerf... little yellow darts. All right, thanks."

Several minutes later, the professor returned. He walked in nanchalantly, though visibly red in the face and with short breathing. "Our intruder has left. DPS will take care of it from here. Sorry for the interruption." He took his seat again. "All right, let's discuss Sean's project."

As students refocused and raised their hands for comments, I picked up one of the darts near me and put it in my bag. This could have been a bullet, I thought.

Obama in the Motley

So, we have a student run coffee house on campus called the Motley. All the food and pastries and other things (including truffles) are student made, so there's a huge community spirit around this place. Last night, they hosted the Scripps election party. It was all day, but it really started hopping after 4 o'clock, because that's when the east coast polls closed. From then on, the place was PACKED. Student services had to set up another television outside because so many people were trying to get in to watch.

At 8:02, the live feed on MSN announced "ladies and gentlemen, we have our president elect. Barack Obama now has a projected 283 electoral votes."

The place went mad.

There were people jumping up and down, screaming, crying, calling their families and friends... The noise level shot through the roof. It was amazing. There was so much emotion in the room, it was impossible not to get swept up in it. And I did. It didn't take long untill I was one of the screaming, crying people as well. There were no words to describe the feelings in that room.
The Motley baristas brought out a cake, with "President Obama" written in red and blue icing. Bottle of sparkling cider appeared as well, and the party was on.

Ladies and gentlemen, "Yes we did."