the long awaited check-in
alright, so i'll be frank: i'm a bad friend. i'm so sorry y'all; i miss you all terribly, and i wish you could be here (and partake in the adventures going on!!), but i have yet to really check-in with any of you. mae culpa. there is just so much exploring to be done!!! :)
in attempt to remedy the situation, i have decided to post the letter i wrote my grandfather about the happenings in the windy city. i know it's cheating, but at this point, tis the best i can do...so, without any further ado, voila!
Dear Grandpa Doc,
How are you? I hope life in Mobile isn’t too rough in the wake of Hurricane Ivan, and that you and all are well. Life here is wonderful; I absolutely adore it. There is so much I want to tell you (thus why I am typing, my hands keep up with my brain better this way, I’m sorry that it’s impersonal), and my brain is on complete overload, but bear with me as I attempt to recount the incredible experience of my last few days.
Sitting here now, at 1 a.m., offers a good example of how unique and indescribable this experience has already proved to be. Tucked away in my cozy and well-decorated room, with my amazing roommate next to me, I’m listening to the soothing classical music wafting down the stairs as the girl upstairs practices her cello. With the windows open (we are on the third floor, it should be safe), I can feel a soft breeze off Lake Michigan that makes the room the perfect temperature. The days are incredibly sunny without a cloud in the sky, and the grass is green with hills perfect for rolling down (as I discovered). The campus is absolutely surreal. I walk around, at times in tears, in awe of the beauty of my surroundings. Ivy crawls up the large stone facades of the classroom buildings. Staircases straight out of Masterpiece Theatre greet you at every corner. Balconies, swings, Rapunzel-eske windows, mahogany doors with large circular iron handles, turrets, basements, tucked away nooks and crannies, gardens, ponds, bridges, places that seem as if they came from Alice and Wonderland or the Secret Garden, art, giant oaks, iron gates, awnings, fountains, flowers, underground tunnels, towering ceilings, gargoyles, secret passages, beauty, tradition, and history seep out of every facet of this place. I truly just walk around in awe, admiring the glorious sights before me. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been walking and heard a, “Can you believe we live here?” I really can’t. I feel like I’ve been transplanted into a fairy tale. My dorm especially, Burton-Judson, is quite literally a castle. Seven separate houses surround two quaint, private courtyards speckled with benches and trees. It is beautiful. Inside, the amazement doesn’t stop. Last night, about fifteen of us stayed up playing a game called “Mafia,” reminiscent of our murder parties, in a one of the house lounges located in the West Tower, yes, the West Tower. This lounge was full of divans, centered around a fireplace and lit by candles…I really can’t even begin to describe. Just being in a place like this makes one feel smarter!
While the aesthetic appeal has definitely been impossible to put into words, above and beyond that is the people that surround me. The intelligence and culture and experiences of everyone around me are so overwhelming. It is unlike anything I have ever experienced, quite outside the sometimes homogeneous feel of the South. I walk around and hear more languages than I can recognize. I dined next to a Jewish man of thirty-five, a Muslim freshman, a Protestant, and an atheist. …and we talked politics! My next door neighbor’s mother is from France and her father is from Romania, and she just got back from Capetown, South Africa this summer. Everyone speaks five languages. Some of my favorite people that I’ve met (besides the much adored roommate) have been Olu, a black male from England, Ya-Ya, an Asian girl from Michigan, John, a poet from Canada, Sarah, a New Yorker with a nose ring and three tattoos, and Lila a small town girl who spent the past few summers in Tanzania. The Catholic Church I went to one Sunday was absolutely gorgeous with gothic architecture to the fullest, and we ended with hand-clapping singing “This Little Light of Mine.” Everyone here is so different, but all respect the views of everyone around them. It is absolutely amazingly unique. Never once have I heard anything but “Wow, that’s really cool, I would like to learn more about that,” is in response to someone sharing their faith or anything for that matter.
Everyone has something to contribute to a conversation, and I really feel as if I have learned more in these past three days than I did during the entirety of my senior year of high school, and classes haven’t even started! Yet my vocabulary has increased exponentially (hmm, wait, that could have some bad connotations, let me clarify: I am not talking about four letter words). There have been so many times that I have stopped people to ask them what a word means or what a tribe in East Africa is called or where my dorm is. The sheer knowledge here is so vast and varied, and everyone recognizes that each individual here has some new part to give. That atmosphere that embraces and heralds all different kinds of intelligence makes it easy to ask questions, even stupid ones. I’m not intimidated or scared of sounding ignorant at all, and that makes so much of a difference. I love it; I am surrounded by dorks. (Case in point: Today, we went on an outing to Lake Michigan, and when passing by the bookstore, the whole of our group, about 15 people, stopped and stared with oooohs and aaaahs for a good ten minutes. It was beautiful.)
Even in celebrated dorkiness, though, everyone I met seems so well-rounded. Whether you start a quote from Plato, Tolstoy, Willie Wonka, or Monty Python and Homestarruner (the former a strange yet funny British movie and the latter an even weirder but hilarious website), someone WILL finish it. In fact, when i was announcing that sunday was national talk like a pirate day, everyone already knew. It’s wonderful. Even the Amelie poster I have hanging in my room, a tribute to a semi-obscure French film, hasn’t gone over anyone’s head. In fact, I have only been further educated on the other roles the French actress has held and global opinion on them. My conversations have revolved around everything from drinking and drugs to Russian literature to tribes in East Africa to obscure books to classic films to childhood nursery rhymes and Disney movies. There really has not been a dull moment. Tonight, my dorm had a semi-formal dinner, complete with roast beef and cheesecake, followed by a concert. The concert was a trio performing on African drums! It was spectacular, and everyone danced, including the headmaster and present faculty. I just cannot stress enough how perfect this environment has been. It is a true and wonderful celebration and embracing of dorkiness, and I love it!
Yesterday brought with it another cool adventure too. We “toured” (Emily guided, actually) the Rockefeller Chapel, the tallest building on campus. The group hiked the 270 +, that’s where I lost count, narrow spiral stairs to reach the Carillon. It was spectacular. Along the way, we could stop and explore different landings where the bells were hung. You could actually go and stand inside the gigantic bells! I crawled inside and couldn’t even reach the top of the bell when I jumped. Their shells were six inches thick, and some of them probably reached five or six feet in diameter. It was incredible…and once we reached the top, it was even more incredible. We came out into the open air atop the rectangular chapel at sunset. One could walk the perimeter of the tower and see the perfect view: North, East, South, West…sunset. We could see the many sailboats speckling Lake Michigan and even the Sears Tower (which I didn’t know was in Chicago). It was amazing, absolutely amazing.
… (I now resume this letter after a meeting with my advisor for course scheduling)
Well, my first disappointment of Chicago has occurred: the French class is full. It seems that someone up there just doesn’t want me speaking French. I should be able to start taking it again come January, though, and I will just have to read my French literature until then. On the bright side, though, I have been placed into American Sign Language. The professor isn’t here yet for me to be able to take a placement test, so they put me into the first year, but hopefully I will be able to move up should it prove too easy. My schedule, as it stands now, is a tribute to the masochism of today’s youth. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I have American Sign Language from 11:30- 12:20, then from 12:30-1:20 I book it to calculus II, finally, from 1:30-2:20 I will find myself in astrophysics. Yes, I am going to die. However, since Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are from hell, it makes Tuesday and Thursday easy: humanities, reading cultures (in which we will read pieces from all over the world: Asia, Africa, France, etc) from 10:30-11:50…not exactly balanced, but we’ll see. If I do move into the higher language of sign language, then I will have it on Tuesday and Thursday, and I have been assured that I can always drop down to taking three classes. I’m not really sure; I’m still hashing it out.
Well, I must off for now; I’ve planned to go explore campus some more…we start classes Tuesday, so I will let you know how it all goes. I miss you and love you Grandpa Doc; give my love to Mom and Goose too!
Love,
Emily
i love and miss y'all!!!
in attempt to remedy the situation, i have decided to post the letter i wrote my grandfather about the happenings in the windy city. i know it's cheating, but at this point, tis the best i can do...so, without any further ado, voila!
Dear Grandpa Doc,
How are you? I hope life in Mobile isn’t too rough in the wake of Hurricane Ivan, and that you and all are well. Life here is wonderful; I absolutely adore it. There is so much I want to tell you (thus why I am typing, my hands keep up with my brain better this way, I’m sorry that it’s impersonal), and my brain is on complete overload, but bear with me as I attempt to recount the incredible experience of my last few days.
Sitting here now, at 1 a.m., offers a good example of how unique and indescribable this experience has already proved to be. Tucked away in my cozy and well-decorated room, with my amazing roommate next to me, I’m listening to the soothing classical music wafting down the stairs as the girl upstairs practices her cello. With the windows open (we are on the third floor, it should be safe), I can feel a soft breeze off Lake Michigan that makes the room the perfect temperature. The days are incredibly sunny without a cloud in the sky, and the grass is green with hills perfect for rolling down (as I discovered). The campus is absolutely surreal. I walk around, at times in tears, in awe of the beauty of my surroundings. Ivy crawls up the large stone facades of the classroom buildings. Staircases straight out of Masterpiece Theatre greet you at every corner. Balconies, swings, Rapunzel-eske windows, mahogany doors with large circular iron handles, turrets, basements, tucked away nooks and crannies, gardens, ponds, bridges, places that seem as if they came from Alice and Wonderland or the Secret Garden, art, giant oaks, iron gates, awnings, fountains, flowers, underground tunnels, towering ceilings, gargoyles, secret passages, beauty, tradition, and history seep out of every facet of this place. I truly just walk around in awe, admiring the glorious sights before me. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve been walking and heard a, “Can you believe we live here?” I really can’t. I feel like I’ve been transplanted into a fairy tale. My dorm especially, Burton-Judson, is quite literally a castle. Seven separate houses surround two quaint, private courtyards speckled with benches and trees. It is beautiful. Inside, the amazement doesn’t stop. Last night, about fifteen of us stayed up playing a game called “Mafia,” reminiscent of our murder parties, in a one of the house lounges located in the West Tower, yes, the West Tower. This lounge was full of divans, centered around a fireplace and lit by candles…I really can’t even begin to describe. Just being in a place like this makes one feel smarter!
While the aesthetic appeal has definitely been impossible to put into words, above and beyond that is the people that surround me. The intelligence and culture and experiences of everyone around me are so overwhelming. It is unlike anything I have ever experienced, quite outside the sometimes homogeneous feel of the South. I walk around and hear more languages than I can recognize. I dined next to a Jewish man of thirty-five, a Muslim freshman, a Protestant, and an atheist. …and we talked politics! My next door neighbor’s mother is from France and her father is from Romania, and she just got back from Capetown, South Africa this summer. Everyone speaks five languages. Some of my favorite people that I’ve met (besides the much adored roommate) have been Olu, a black male from England, Ya-Ya, an Asian girl from Michigan, John, a poet from Canada, Sarah, a New Yorker with a nose ring and three tattoos, and Lila a small town girl who spent the past few summers in Tanzania. The Catholic Church I went to one Sunday was absolutely gorgeous with gothic architecture to the fullest, and we ended with hand-clapping singing “This Little Light of Mine.” Everyone here is so different, but all respect the views of everyone around them. It is absolutely amazingly unique. Never once have I heard anything but “Wow, that’s really cool, I would like to learn more about that,” is in response to someone sharing their faith or anything for that matter.
Everyone has something to contribute to a conversation, and I really feel as if I have learned more in these past three days than I did during the entirety of my senior year of high school, and classes haven’t even started! Yet my vocabulary has increased exponentially (hmm, wait, that could have some bad connotations, let me clarify: I am not talking about four letter words). There have been so many times that I have stopped people to ask them what a word means or what a tribe in East Africa is called or where my dorm is. The sheer knowledge here is so vast and varied, and everyone recognizes that each individual here has some new part to give. That atmosphere that embraces and heralds all different kinds of intelligence makes it easy to ask questions, even stupid ones. I’m not intimidated or scared of sounding ignorant at all, and that makes so much of a difference. I love it; I am surrounded by dorks. (Case in point: Today, we went on an outing to Lake Michigan, and when passing by the bookstore, the whole of our group, about 15 people, stopped and stared with oooohs and aaaahs for a good ten minutes. It was beautiful.)
Even in celebrated dorkiness, though, everyone I met seems so well-rounded. Whether you start a quote from Plato, Tolstoy, Willie Wonka, or Monty Python and Homestarruner (the former a strange yet funny British movie and the latter an even weirder but hilarious website), someone WILL finish it. In fact, when i was announcing that sunday was national talk like a pirate day, everyone already knew. It’s wonderful. Even the Amelie poster I have hanging in my room, a tribute to a semi-obscure French film, hasn’t gone over anyone’s head. In fact, I have only been further educated on the other roles the French actress has held and global opinion on them. My conversations have revolved around everything from drinking and drugs to Russian literature to tribes in East Africa to obscure books to classic films to childhood nursery rhymes and Disney movies. There really has not been a dull moment. Tonight, my dorm had a semi-formal dinner, complete with roast beef and cheesecake, followed by a concert. The concert was a trio performing on African drums! It was spectacular, and everyone danced, including the headmaster and present faculty. I just cannot stress enough how perfect this environment has been. It is a true and wonderful celebration and embracing of dorkiness, and I love it!
Yesterday brought with it another cool adventure too. We “toured” (Emily guided, actually) the Rockefeller Chapel, the tallest building on campus. The group hiked the 270 +, that’s where I lost count, narrow spiral stairs to reach the Carillon. It was spectacular. Along the way, we could stop and explore different landings where the bells were hung. You could actually go and stand inside the gigantic bells! I crawled inside and couldn’t even reach the top of the bell when I jumped. Their shells were six inches thick, and some of them probably reached five or six feet in diameter. It was incredible…and once we reached the top, it was even more incredible. We came out into the open air atop the rectangular chapel at sunset. One could walk the perimeter of the tower and see the perfect view: North, East, South, West…sunset. We could see the many sailboats speckling Lake Michigan and even the Sears Tower (which I didn’t know was in Chicago). It was amazing, absolutely amazing.
… (I now resume this letter after a meeting with my advisor for course scheduling)
Well, my first disappointment of Chicago has occurred: the French class is full. It seems that someone up there just doesn’t want me speaking French. I should be able to start taking it again come January, though, and I will just have to read my French literature until then. On the bright side, though, I have been placed into American Sign Language. The professor isn’t here yet for me to be able to take a placement test, so they put me into the first year, but hopefully I will be able to move up should it prove too easy. My schedule, as it stands now, is a tribute to the masochism of today’s youth. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I have American Sign Language from 11:30- 12:20, then from 12:30-1:20 I book it to calculus II, finally, from 1:30-2:20 I will find myself in astrophysics. Yes, I am going to die. However, since Monday, Wednesday, and Friday are from hell, it makes Tuesday and Thursday easy: humanities, reading cultures (in which we will read pieces from all over the world: Asia, Africa, France, etc) from 10:30-11:50…not exactly balanced, but we’ll see. If I do move into the higher language of sign language, then I will have it on Tuesday and Thursday, and I have been assured that I can always drop down to taking three classes. I’m not really sure; I’m still hashing it out.
Well, I must off for now; I’ve planned to go explore campus some more…we start classes Tuesday, so I will let you know how it all goes. I miss you and love you Grandpa Doc; give my love to Mom and Goose too!
Love,
Emily
i love and miss y'all!!!