Oberlin Blogs

An illustrated description of my second Fall Break as an Obie, in which I hang out with a staggering amount of fellow bloggers, eat incredibly well, and fall even more in love with Oberthings.

You are never, ever too old to trick-or-treat.

Ain't it funny how the night moves? And the day? And the weeks?

The womb chair, taken on the macro-scale, is an analogy for the soft, supportive, wonderful, dreamy bubble of Oberlin.

I never intended to end up on the roof of Peters. It just happened.

This year, I didn't get into a co-op. Where was I going to get my weekly serving of granola? How could I say goodbye to the cinder block-sized bricks of cheese that arrived every Wednesday? Was I going to waste away trying to cook all my meals for myself?

One needs laser sights attached to their clown wigs. Am I trying to do too much?

Explanation: I showed up at a bloggers' meeting without my computer, but with my camera. I was going to chat for a bit and then go, but Ma'ayan pointed out that there was a chalkboard in the room and challenged me to tell a story in nothing but photos. This is the result.

Remember when I said I "will often go to mildly extravagant lengths to craft a present"? That might have been an understatement.

Why do I feel like a crazy person? I am a senior now. Oberlin, even with the all-nighters, the snowy Aprils, the death icicles looming on my roof, mouthfuls of saltless co-op lentils, has been nurturing me this whole time with arms wide open. Oberlin and I have been spooning for three and a half years, and I'm about to be kicked out of bed into a pair of knobbly hobbit-shoes.

My schedule in summary - which is more or less tacit apology for not blogging sooner, or more often.

Scheduling everything was like playing a game of Tetris: staring at the little colored blocks on Google Calendar and wondering where I could make another one fit.