College is Strange

Betsy Unfiltered

Dear World-at-Large;

Hi there.

Bet you had forgotten me, hadn’t you?

That’s perfectly alright. You probably had fewer bad dreams that way.


This will be a super ramble-y post because I don’t feel like organizing my thoughts and I haven’t written for a month and a half and I just felt like checking in so y’all weren’t worrying that I was dead. You know that this is actually me and not some creeper posing as me so that you don’t get suspicious because no other self-respecting person would ramble like this. Why were you suspecting I was dead, anyhow? That’s super weird. Don’t you have any better problems to solve? Like ending world hunger or stopping Ebola or mailing me a space heater or practicing your special music for missions conference or doing a Sudoku…Suduko?….puzzle or something?

Actually, the practicing special music for missions conference is what I should be doing, but I’m not. It’s 10:30 at night and snowing and I just don’t feel like practicing. I will tomorrow. Maybe. Unless I get distracted by talking to my fabulous ex-RA or certain other friends.

Also, I should be doing my laundry. I started it this morning and then left and just got back, so I should probably finish. But that’s two entire floors below me and I’m pretty comfortable at the moment.

Know what I hate? When Pandora gets funky and just stops and skips an entire half a song. Pandora! I was just getting my little grove on! Why would you do that to me?

What am I listening to, you ask? Ummmm…my Josh Groban Christmas station. Shh. Don’t start judging. I can explain. You see, I never used to listen to Christmas music before Thanksgiving was over. But last year my delightful roomie–who’s been married for exactically two weeks now!!–got me started early. And I liked it. Christmas music makes me feel like it’s holiday season instead of get ready for sophomore platform and music theory finals and Christmas concert season.  And it is get ready for Christmas concert season, so we’ve already been singing Christmas songs and playing Christmas songs on the piano and playing Christmas songs on the violin and playing Christmas songs on the handbells and discussing Christmas wing decoration ideas and discussing Christmas vacation travel plans. As long as I’m in Christmas mode already, why not just break out the Josh Groban holiday album? Is that so wrong? It’s not like I’m already listening to family tradition songs, like the fife version of “Patapan” or Twila Paris’s Christmas tape or Michael Card’s The Promise. So it isn’t that wrong.

So what have I been up to otherwise? I don’t even know. Lots of stuff. Not very much. I have 14 credits of music classes this semester, which alternates between a lot of fun and a major headache. So. Many. Practice. Hours. On the bright side, I’m learning to conduct and modulate and become a better accompanist, which is just great. I’m still working in the library and doing Jubilate and accompanying at my church every Sunday and teaching the Wednesday night Tiny Trackers class and trying to figure out this RA thing and keeping my poor little fish mostly alive and making chocolate chip cookies and procrastinating on laundry. Speaking of which….blah.

Ok, I really do need to go switch loads. Yes, I have loads plural. It sort of piled up.

Last night I dreamed Ruth did my laundry for me. So I was sad when I woke up. But I also dreamed I grew a goatee, so I was very happy when I woke up. Actually, waking up was very happy because it meant I got to party basically all day: first, roadtripping to Charleston with one of my favorite fellows, then picking up my favorite RAs from the airport and going to Starbucks for chai, then going to the dean’s house for an early Thanksgiving dinner, then going to my favorite admissions girl’s house for a girl party.

It was a good day.

But seriously. Laundry is calling.

I should probably never write a post like this again.

But I probably will.

College is Strange

I Don’t Get Pizza Because I’m not Josh Gwoban

So Friday night this happened and made it to the Facespace.Betsy the Bobbed

My good buddy Scott Paris was concerned. These texts were the result. Continue reading “I Don’t Get Pizza Because I’m not Josh Gwoban”

College is Strange

To whet your appetite

Dear All Four People Who Read This;

I know you’ve missed my ridiculous tales of school this summer…delightful tales in which garbage cans become normal places to munch from, raccoons become the objects of kicking, and libraries become the location of pickup lines and arranged marriages. Mourn not; in just a short 11 days I’ll be settling into my new dorm room and beginning my collection of ridiculous tales anew.

In the meantime, selected quotes from last year. You may or may not find these at all amusing, because they probably make no sense out of context.

Names changed to protect the innocent.

friend upon hearing of my fear to sit at the “sophomore table”: You can sit there if you want. Stop listening to the serpents that are telling you not to eat of the fruit of the grapevine.

friend on slang: “JK” means “not serious.”

friend on why I should appreciate some movie called “The Matrix,” about which I still am completely clueless: Wait, you’re from Iowa, right? So you like Chicago stuff? Because he wears a trench coat!

friend on relationships: Why would I need a girlfriend? I have a tractor!!

friend on the terrible state of the world these days: Did you know you can’t even register for a wedding at Dollar General?!

friend on her true feelings: If I were a sadistic person, which I am, deep down inside…

professor on her speech preferences: BUFFALO! I love that word!

friend on writing problems: How do you spell “MC”?

professor on detecting methods: I think that’s what Sherlock Holmes did. Besides cocaine.

friend on chorale neighbors: He takes up too much space for a skinny person.

friend on relationship preferences: This is nice and compact…just like I like my women!

professor on food: You can eat Lucky Charms without milk and still feel blessed. But to eat shredding wheat without milk–well, you just keep chewing and hope the saliva’s working.

friend on why she can’t promise me I’ll be one of her bridesmaids: Maybe you’ll DIE!!

friend on my mean face: You look like a butterfly dictator.

friend on skillz and a lack thereof: I’m worse at ping-pong than a horse that doesn’t even know how to walk.

friend on how to express remorse: See this? This is the deodorant of shame. WEAR IT.

friend on…I don’t even know what: I just wish I could feel something when I look into your eyes…

friend on braided hair: Sometimes, I think it would be fun to be a girl…

friend on food preferences: Yeah, jelly beans are gross. …wait. What am I saying? I think I actually like jelly beans. No. I LOVE jelly beans! What was I talking about??

friend on modernizing Song of Solomon: Your neck is like…the Servant Center! servant centerI don’t know. Would you rather have a neck like that, or a neck like “the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men”?

College is Strange

A lesson from outside the classroom

For the most part, school is but a distant memory, and I’m happy that way. However, there are some stories from school which deserve remembrance, even during the summer. One of those is The Scott Paris School of Trust. One is Taking Walks with Kristen. And one is Things Boys Should Never Say to Girls.

Any boys reading this, take note. Never ever say these things to any female ever. Except me. You can say it to me because then I have something to blog about.

Things Boys Should Never Say to Girls

names redacted for privacy purposes

  1. “Betsy. No one cares how you feel!”
    Thanks. Thanks a lot. Maybe I don’t care if you don’t care! …except, seeing as I’ve remembered it so long, I obviously do.
  2. “Betsy, you look like you should be a model … for cartoon faces.”
    Um. Excuse me? How is that a good thing?
  3. “Betsy, your face just makes me think that one day you’re going to start biting and scratching people.”
    Starting with you, sir.
  4. “Betsy, with a face like that, you’re sure to attract the village idiot some day!”
    You know who you are.
  5. “Betsy, are you feeling okay? You don’t look good.”
    I guess I should be thankful you actually DO care how I feel today…but the wording, sir, the wording. (This actually happened more than once.)
  6. “Betsy, are you sure you should be eating that chocolate cake?”
    Why are we even friends.

I suppose there could potentially be things girls shouldn’t say to boys, too, but I’m fairly ignorant about that. Maaaaaybe that’s my problem…

But Seriously, College is Strange

The end of the beginning

Finals are over.

People are packing.

Goodbyes are being started.

Jubilate tour is rapidly approaching.

It’s hard for me to believe that my third year of college is nearly over. In high school, I really couldn’t imagine suffering through four years of college…and three have flown by already. This year has been so wonderful, so I decided to write a poem about it. I present to you

“Betsy Ruminates on her Second Sophomore Year”

Continue reading “The end of the beginning”

College is Strange, In the Library

They do call it “Bridal College”…

I have three drafts waiting to be finished–including the Princess Party story (starring our very own Princess “Uh, Ma-ho-lia?”!), the hymnal drama, and what happened to the pinata–but instead of finishing them I’m going to tell you this story instead.

Yesterday, I got up sort of late. That was bad because we always have room checks on Monday mornings, and my room was in some serious disarray. So I cleaned my room and made myself look presentable as quickly as I could on a Monday morning, grabbed my violin and my box of cinnamon rolls, and headed to work, stopping to get the newspapers–both Sunday’s and Monday’s editions–on the way. Isaiah and I open the library at 8:00 AM every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and normally I’m a minute or two early. This time, however, I was a few minutes late, and a group of people was already congregated in the lobby of Pipkin as I approached with backpack, violin, sweet rolls, and newspapers. Mr. Cale opened the door for me as I got close, and I saw a family of previewers–all boys.
“Thanks!” I said to Mr. Cale, attempting (successfully!!) to neither hit anyone with my violin nor drop the newspapers. I laid the stack of papers on the desk in the lobby and began rummaging around for my time card.
“Are you single?” the father of the previewer family asked.
“Uh, yes, actually. Very much so,” I replied.
“Oh, good,” the father responded. “I already tried to set my sons up with another girl, but she was married. I didn’t want to make that mistake again.”
“Oh. Uh…I also know how to bake.” Why did I say this? I have honestly no clue. It was Monday, it was early, and a stranger had just asked me my relationship status. The words just sort of came out. “I, uh, need to get to work…nice to meet you.” I gathered my things again and fled to the safety of the library.
“Sorry I’m late,” I apologized to Isaiah. “But I brought food.”
I unloaded my armloads of stuff and settled down behind the circulation desk. Mr. Cale brought the previewers into the library for a tour and introduced them to Isaiah. He’s the guy’s head RA, so he did his friendly “Welcome” thing while I pretended to be super busy with something else.
“Are you engaged?” the father queried.
“Uh, no,” Isaiah answered.
The previewers’ father gestured to me. “She’s available!”
I made eye contact with no one.
Mr. Cale took the family through the library, and I went back to sorting out the old newspapers. Once sorted, I took the ones we no longer needed back to the recycling bin. The library tour had just finished and the family was making their way past the circulation desk as I came back. I passed the father. “Sorry if that was awkward,” he said. I began to reply graciously, but he was continuing. “You’ll thank me in five years when you’re married.”
I just smiled.
They left.
“Um, Isaiah?” I said.
“Just for the record, I don’t actually want to marry you.”
“That’s good.”
“Glad we got that sorted out.”
“Soooo … you think we’ll get our American Church History exams back this morning?”

Some people really take this “Bridal College” thing seriously.

College is Strange, In the Library

A Very Condensed List of Things I Don’t Understand

I have a lot of questions. Bonus points if you can answer them for me.

  1. Why am I addicted to saving dryer sheets? Seriously. I can’t seem to keep myself from re-using them. Mom got me an entire box before I came to college, and I’ve barely dented it. Someone help me. I’m a dryer sheet hoarder.
  2. Why is the white crayon the most used crayon I possess? That makes absolutely zero sense. You could say it’s because I colored a wedding picture for Jenna, but it was while getting my crayons out to color that picture that I noticed this strange fact. Twinsie #2–bless her heart–sent me the crayons in the mail, which means they were new last semester, which means that at some point in the past few months I rabidly used a white crayon. What am I, crazy?
  3. Who designs air freshener to look like yogurt? On a related note, who designs air freshener to smell like cough syrup? On another related note, who put a sign on the bathroom door warning library patrons not to eat the yogurt?
  4. What happened to the legs of Jenna’s pinata?
  5. What’s written on the inside of the box in which we keep the International Bulletin of Missionary Research archives, and who wrote it?
  6. What happened to that stick of butter I had in the freezer?
  7. I want to make brownies. Real ones, not brown letter “E”s this time. Though that was pretty fun. Ok, so this isn’t a question. It’s just how I’m feeling.
  8. Why do those guys sit at that table in the corner all the time? I feel judged whenever I get ketchup refills. Which happens whenever I get ketchup fills. Because I always underestimate my love of ketchup, and that is a fact.
  9. Why am I so mean to Katie? I actually like her a lot.
  10. Why do I do whatever anyone tells me to do?
    Example A, an evening in the library
    Kristen: Betsy, take Matthew’s wallet and put it in that drawer! Quick, while he’s not looking!
    Me: Uh, yes Kristen!
    (Twenty seconds later)
    Me: Wait. Why on earth did I just do that? That’s stupid!
    Kristen: Too late.

    Example B, an evening in the dining hall
    Me: Oooh. Ice cream. I want ice cream. But I’m not eating any.
    Tim: You should eat some.
    Me: No I shouldn’t. That is bad for me.
    Tim: Get some ice cream. (stares judgementaly until I feel terrible for not listening to him command)
    Me: No! Who even asked you to sit at this table?
    Tim: (walks away dejectedly)
    Twenty seconds later
    Tim: Betsy, since you made me feel bad, you have to go get ice cream now.
    Me: Fine!!!! Okay! Whatever!
    Twenty seconds later
    Me: Wait, why am I eating this?
    Tim: Because I told you to.

Please, folks, I need a lot of help.

But Seriously, College is Strange

On Blogging Ethics

When I began blogging, I was thinking primarily of the people back home. I like writing, and I like talking about myself, and I like my family (both nuclear, extended, and church), so blogging seemed like a natural choice when I moved away. I suppose I imagined that some people here might stumble across my little corner of the internet sometime, but I didn’t suppose they would find it of much interest or care about it. Therefore, I didn’t really worry about what I would think if I blogged about them.

Maybe it would have been polite to consider that.

You see, all these ridiculous stories are one-sided. And sometimes just the teensiest bit exaggerated. Not much, I promise. But I may take poetic license with a detail or word here or there. All in the interest of the story, of course. But that’s the thing: “the story” is my story. And I sorta kinda never asked anyone featured in any of my stories if they were OK with me blathering my opinion of them on this thing kids are calling “The Interwebs.”

Side note: every positive thing I said about my RA was completely accurate and most definitely not exaggerated in the least. Beautiful? Radient? Classy? Intelligent? Wonderful? Yes, and a thousand things more. I’m not the only one who thinks so, either. And I don’t think I need her permission to write about her because I’m sure she’s probably fine with it. Continue reading “On Blogging Ethics”

College is Strange, In the Library

Crying in McCarrell, and What the Muffins Had to Do with It

This fascinating tale, an entire week old now, is comprised of several seemingly unrelated events. The first is that Jenna went home last weekend. The second is that I have bad eyesight. The third is that making things from box mixes doesn’t always turn out so well. Got it? Ok.
The end. Continue reading “Crying in McCarrell, and What the Muffins Had to Do with It”

College is Strange

Stinkin’ Coon

Hello, blogosphere. Nice to see you again.

I haven’t written for a week or so because 1) I had a lot of other things to do and 2) I had nothing really to write about. Life was just going on normally: classes, music, library, homework, church, sleep, repeat. Don’t get me wrong–I love it. But it doesn’t make a very interesting blog post. Seriously. Imagine it.
Dear blogosphere:
Today I woke up and ate breakfast. Then I went to class, did homework, and went to another class and also chapel. Then I
ate lunch and had two more classes and then went to chorale and Jubilate and then did a little more homework and checked facebook and texted my sister and worked in the library all evening and practiced the piano for an hour and managed not to get any infractions ALL DAY!
Sincerely, me.
I think you understand. It wouldn’t be very interesting, would it? Which is why I have spared you. You’re welcome. Continue reading “Stinkin’ Coon”