Monthly Archives: August 2013

Good Luck

I set out of my dorm room to the cafeteria downstairs to try to eat what minuscule selection of dinner foods a vegetarian has in Clemson House.  I ended up with a plate full of broccoli that tasted of poison, corn that was, give or take, 98 percent water, and a grilled cheese that ended up containing some mystery meat, which I opted out of eating.  When I finished my “meal” I set foot in the great outdoors to either find a place I could hammock on campus or to befriend some frisbee throwing boys.  I was walking around Bowman field when I saw 3 boys throwing that seemed okay at frisbee, but not the most talented, so I approached them and asked if I could join their throwing circle.  They said yes and I threw with them for about 20 minutes when they finally said they had to go.  One of the boys was semi-attractive so I went up to him and asked him his name, to which he replied Josh, and he told me the others were Logan and David.  There was a few more words of small talk, then I asked, “do ya’ll go here?”.

You know how they say don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.

“I’m in high school”.

Great, I just made friends with a high schooler.

I talked a little more to him, and when he departed with his friends his last words were “good luck”, which are kind of strange words to depart on if you don’t know someone but I couldn’t help thinking how apt the phrase was considering what my college experience was amounting to so far.

Good luck, Oona MacDougall.  How apt, indeed.

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Better Not

I was walking out of a dining hall when I overheard some guys talking much louder than necessary about this girl that they all were apparently infatuated with.  As I listened to their descriptions of this girl, I entertained the thought for a moment of trying to become what their (and every frat bro’s) perfect girl would be.  I could work on my body until it was flawless by running every morning, I could be in the top sorority and always have make up on and wear cute clothes, I could hone my beer pong skills until I was the absolute best in all of campus, and of course, I could study up on football, baseball, and basketball by watching ESPN in my spare time so I could hold my own in a conversation about sports with a couple of dudes.  But while I was thinking about what I could do to become this epitome of the frat bro’s perfect girl, I thought of Rebel Wilson’s quote in the movie, “Pitch Perfect”, “I sometimes have a feeling I can do crystal meth, but then I think, mmm… better not”.  Then I laughed at my own joke, walked away from the frat bros, and thought about something else.

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My Personal Hell

“I feel like I’m about to throw up.  I am distraught and I feel like I am about to throw up.  I need to lock my bike.  Damn it all, this lock is broken.  Why isn’t it going on.  Ok, it’s on.  Power-walking, I’m power-walking, not thinking about using the bathroom.  God, I need to use the bathroom.  Girl is getting on the elevator, ‘hold it’.  I’m on.  I’m telling her, ‘I literally just went through hell’, don’t know her.  She kind of looks like I just smacked her in the face, I tell her my story, I think I just ruined her day.  I go to my floor, head to my room, chug my water.  It’s all over my shirt.  Fuck it.  I chug more.  I take off my button up, wipe the sweat off my face.  Holy shit.  I sit down.  That was horrible.”

Alright, I’m done with this for now.  I’ll offer an explanation later when my body doesn’t hate me from exhaustion.

Alright, here is the explanation I failed to deliver for so long.  I’m going to do a brief recollection because it is a painful memory.  One of my friends and I went out biking around 8 o’ clock around the outskirts of campus, places I had never been nor seen.  We finished biking around 9 and ended up somewhere close to my friend’s dorm, but again to a a place I had never been.  I assured my friend that I would be able to find my way back to my dorm without too much difficulty.  Little did I know…

I started off biking down what I thought would be a main road.  I was on this road for about fifteen minutes then turned and found that I had made a complete circle right back to where I started.  I felt like I was in one of those nightmares where you keep moving and turning but discover that you’re actually never progressing.  I started to panic in my head, started thinking about what would happen if I never found my way back to my dorm again.  Maybe I would become a vagabond, biking around, doing odd jobs for small amounts of money, hoping one day that I would discover the location of the Clemson House dorm where I could resume my old life.

I just kept biking.  I kept turning into streets that I felt like I had not been to.  I just kept biking.  Eventually, of course I made it back to the dorm, but by that time I profusely had to use the restroom, I had sweat through my clothes, and I was disillusioned with the world.  Also, I learned something:

Your difficulties sometimes result in self-betterment in some way, sometimes they help you realize a truth of life that you only could discover through suffering, or sometimes they leave you sweat covered, in need of a restroom, and questioning if your pride is still intact.

I still have my doubts.

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I’m a College Girl

I, Oona MacDougall, am officially sitting on the extra long twin that I will be spending more or less a year sleeping on.  This day has been far from uneventful though, as anyone who has been privy to a freshman move in should know.  I’ll skip the uninteresting parts of moving bags and such to my first true difficulty, the seven flights of stairs I have to climb to get to my room.  The first time I made the climb I was still filled with the excitement from all the newness around me, the second time I thought, “hey, I’m kind of winded”, the third time I thought, “hmm, my calves and thighs kind of burn”, the forth time my thoughts were cloudy because of exhaustion and anger, then I started taking the elevator.  

Onto my second difficulty of the day that I actually did not discover until about three hours ago.  Turns out, that in my very large room that I sleep in there are absolutely no lights overhead.  The only source of illumination is a bed side lamp that I’m sure would blind you if you stared into it for more than 3 seconds.  While this lamp is bright, my room is big, and still is not even 1/3rd lit.  So as I’m sitting writing this right now I’m sitting next to the lamp, that I have to be careful not to look at lest I get momentary blindness, that makes my body the only illuminated mass in the room, so I’m imagining I look like some sort of deranged, internet surfing freak to anyone that might walk in and glance at me sitting in almost complete darkness hunched over my computer.

This should be an interesting enough experience.

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A Bit of Linguistics for you

I thought while I’m not yet at college I would just post some anecdotes and thoughts on a few things not related to my college experience, and honestly I’ll probably continue this at college because what fun is a blog if you don’t!  The subject of this post is something that I was first enlightened to by someone who was essentially a 3rd of my education on marching snare.  This man was short, always would wear a very small explorer hat outside, had a grizzly beard, and a sense of humor that I especially appreciated.  One day in the middle of teaching us marching basics he stopped and said something to the tune of, “you could say the most intelligent statement in the world, but as soon as you add ‘and stuff’ to the end you might as well have not said it”.  Brilliant.  It was the truest statement I had ever heard.  After he said this, my friend on the line and I started playing around with it, and then I told a few friends.  Long story short, this actually came back to bite me because my friends and I started throwing “and stuff” into our speaking habits because we thought it was funny, but then it started consuming us.  We started to never be able to take each other seriously because we couldn’t resist the temptation to tack on the entirely superfluous end to the sentence to make each other laugh.  Eventually, we all realized it was too much and forced ourselves to quit.  Now, one of my friends and I have replaced “and stuff” with something just as horrible.  See if you can figure it out by the end of the blog, if you can’t don’t worry about it because not everyone is perfect, you know?

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This is the beginning

I am now an adult, more or less.  At the very least I am the age that society has magically deemed the age of adulthood that has nothing to do with self sufficiency, maturity, or looking like an adult, but by god I am 18 and so therefore I am an adult.  Anyways, I am about to, as you might have guessed, head off to college to “expand my mind and enrich my soul” as my grandma would often say.  As I gear up to claim my independence and plant the flag of my individuality in foreign soil and stuff, I expect that I’ll run into a few snags, a few bumps, maybe a wall or two (like I did when I was 11. Story for another day), but one thing that I am absolutely sure of is that I will deal with whatever heads my way the way I always have, with an undying sense of humor, sometimes not understood, sometimes overlooked, sometimes just flat out ignored, but I assure you no matter the abuse or neglect it is here to stay.  Lastly, I offer a multiple analogy to end out this first blog post, and to simultaneously show the different purposes my sense of humor serves for me: humor is to me as fasting was to Gandhi, as a big foot mask is to an overly hairy man, as a giant cake occupied by an unconscious man is to an unsuspecting bake shop, as finding out the parents of your boyfriend are nudists and being forced to conform to their customs is to a never-nude (Arrested Development).  The humor makes me a better person, it helps me to call out my flaws in a way that entertains, it always keeps me on my toes, and lastly, sometimes it gets me in awkward, uncomfortable situations that I thrive off of, oddly enough.  I’m stuck with my sense of humor, and I’m thankful for it.  It has taken me to some strange places, helped me meet odd people, and have a handful of life-changing experiences.

And this is only the beginning.

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