|
|
| (2 intermediate revisions by the same user not shown) |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| − | '''Story time, children.
| + | Eh. |
| − | '''
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | There once was a strange little child named 'Rebecca'. She had, for all of her life, been what is commonly referred to as 'an awkward'. It was her goal, her quest, to defeat awkwardness. In her eleventh year, she was admitted to CTY, and viewed it as an opportunity to achieve her goal, to fight the final boss, to loot the body for all of its coin. She knew not that the ensuing three weeks at Palo Alto would alter the course of her life dramatic ellipsis forever. Accepted, Rebecca discovered that she had entered a bizarre realm of creativity and academic abandon. It was also in this year that she would participate in an Acting Improv activity with one Fish Stark, a fact that he probably forgets but that Rebecca still remembers and thinks is pretty nifty because it brings things full circle and that only happens in like Wes Anderson movies and stuff. Anyway, Rebecca returned the next year, only to be renamed 'Moose'. She was no less awkward, but for whatever reason was declared 'pope' and had a religion formed around her. That seems to happen a lot. Thirteen and full of hope of perhaps forming a new religion, Rebecca naively landed at Carlisle with a suitcase full of dreams, silly tee shirts, and welding goggles. She demanded worship, expected immediate approval. She did not expect the wrath of Swine 09. Her roommate, Meghan, uncomfortably shifted around on her bed as Rebecca read to her from a dictionary and played sudoku at two in the morning. Rebecca soon felt lost, alienated. She longed for the days of Moose.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Then, she went to her first ever Passionfruit.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The Emperor, Jake, and The Empress, Eddie, sat confidently at the twelve o'clock position of the circle, orchestrating the proceedings, making squirrels do amusing things for them.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Rebecca's goal changed. She no longer wanted to be less awkward, oh no. She wanted power. SO MUCH POWER.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It was at this point that she opted to double session. Lancaster seemed a natural first session choice, and it was there that she became reacquainted with some old Stanford brethren. She became Moose again, and it felt good. She mellowed, while at the same time becoming slightly unhinged - on more than one occasion, she tried to break the ice by talking about venereal disease. This was the beginning of something strange, something incredible.
| |
| − | | |
| − | At Carlisle that year, Moose realized that her dreams of one day becoming a member of the monarchy were stupid, impossible. She became content in knowing that she had people that she could actually talk to. She also grew fearful of the body known as The Couples' Couch, which she believed analogous to Lancaster's Alcove, thinking that in future years it would attempt to monopolize tradition under the guise of being inclusive, resulting in bitterness amongst those who were not members of The Couch. After further observing The Alcove from the outside in 11.1, and becoming a member of The Couples' Couch in 11.2, Moose is in the unique position of both understanding the way that such groups are perceived by the greater community and how they actually function. She believes that this will aid in Couch/community relations in 12.2, as well as inform some of her decisions as Empress, particularly regarding tradition education and handling.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | OH, WAIT, SPOILER ALERT
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | Moose is the Carlisle Second Session Passionfruit Empress in 2012. Yeah. That's kinda important. And she finally got that new religion made around her.
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | '''THE END'''
| |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | | |
| − | Just me talking here, though, CTY taught me a whole lot. In the end, from the outside, at least, all that I'll have to show for it are a couple of binders, nine lanyards, $80 books that we only read four sections from, and a duct tape crown. But I know that it means a whole lot more. It means tomes worth of half-remembrances that will flutter through my head for the rest of my life. It means understanding that sometimes I can only express myself through cliches because my mind is too abuzz come up with something else, and that the sentiment is still there, at least to me. It means learning to understand my expectations and how to help myself reach them. It means defeating the awkwardness dragon with pure insanity. It means knowing how to truly be myself. It means understanding that that kid, that one in the corner alone, quickly eating a pulled-pork sandwich so that they can leave the dining hall as quickly as possible and not have to watch other people talk and have fun, that used to be me. Talk to them, they've just given up too early.
| |
| − | | |
| − | What a downer.
| |
| | | | |
| | I ate a whole thing of whipped cream once. It was horrible. | | I ate a whole thing of whipped cream once. It was horrible. |
