Orbis Non Sufficit (The World is Not Enough)

In retrospect, I wish I hadn't used the title "Arm Yourself Because No One Else Here Will Save You" for an entry over the summer. That line is from the opening song to Casino Royale, referring to - you guessed it - the dangers in espionage. I used it as a metaphor for being knowledgable about lifestyle decisions and ethics.

So here's another James Bond title, and another question of ethics.

Tonight there was a lecture by a retired member of the CIA, Jim Olson. He's written a book called Fair Play on the ethics of espionage and the lengths the CIA will go to to provide for national security. He grew up in a small town in Iowa and had dreams of finishing law school, finding a nice Iowa girl, settling down, and having a family. But in his last year of law school, he was contacted and recruited by the CIA. He went through years of training - physical training, psychological tests, crash courses in language immersion, skill building. Everything we've ever dreamt or seen in the movies from jumping out of airplanes to using innocent looking gadgets as deadly weapons. Over the next 31 years, Jim would meet his wife Meredith, also a CIA officer, and have three children - all while on assignment overseas. They moved a lot, and took a different job every time they got a new assignment, and therefore a new cover. Jim noted how difficult life would have been if Meredith hadn't also been involved with the CIA and understood the sacrifices.

For the length of time that they served in the CIA, neither Jim nor Meredith told any of their friends or family members about their true work. Jim took various covers as everything from a banker to a fertilizer salesman - Meredith's father just thought he couldn't hold down a steady job. It wasn't until the Olsons were undercover in Vienna, Austria and had a terrorist issue a death threat against their family that Jim and Meredith were forced to tell their oldest son about the nature of their work, in hopes that he would help look out for his younger siblings. They finished their assignment in Vienna safely.

But it wasn't his exciting life, nor the extent of his clandestine career that Jim came to lecture about. He posed the question: how ethically correct are the decisions that the United States Government makes in terms of acquiring intelligence and protecting the country? He set up several real situations and had us vote "yay" or "nay" on whether or not the decision was morally correct. All of the situations presented really happened.

First: It is against CIA protocol to treat people inhumanely or to practice espionage within US borders. So, somewhere overseas, the CIA enlists the help of other foreign allies to kidnap the head of a dangerous terrorist group, place him in a windowless room of an abandoned building, and beat him until he reveals the identities of his group members. The CIA did not participate in harming the terrorist, but they organized and funded the kidnapping. Right or wrong?

Answer: We, as audience members voted by a show of hands. Roughly 80% of us voted no, this was not morally correct, while 20% voted yes. But what did the US think? Well, let's just say the terrorist revealed the other members who were subsequently arrested and executed. When Jim asked if anyone would like to comment on their decision, people expressed frustration. A man lamented that he felt uncomfortable voting without knowing exactly how dangerous and volatile these terrorists were. Another older man was enraged that the US would even have been involved in something as reprehensible as torture. This guy was pissed. But he couldn't deny the fact that the US, indeed, was involved.

Next: Another well known terrorist group leader is known to be in a certain place. It is not possible to kidnap him, or arrrest him. With the extent of his dangerous work in mind, is it okay to employ the use of explosives or other technology and assassinate him?
This is the one that kills me. I voted no, it's not okay to assassinate people. I was among the 25% of the auditorium that thought so.

Some situations dealt with faith, Notre Dame being what it is. Is it ethical to take a cover as a missionary, or a member of the clergy? You would still be spreading God's Word and doing good works - you just wouldn't really be a missionary. And you would be using the relationships that you form to gain information and access to terrorist religious sects. I was sitting next to a priest who lived on campus. He was very friendly, obviously glad to meet someone to talk to. He had spent time working overseas in Africa - as a legitimate clergy member. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as we voted - me for using religion as a cover, and him against. The rest of the auditorium was split 50/50.

There were also situations of a different sort: like, there's a female CIA officer. She's joined a local tennis club in hopes of recruiting future CIA members. However, a government official from another country frequents the club as well. They form a friendship, playing sets and having lunch. The female officer notices that he might want more than friendship - and is prepared to seduce him in order to recruit him to the US. Ethical?

Then, there was the case of a terrorist who was secretly feeding information to the CIA. He demands that the US provide him with a prostitute, or he'll stop helping. Jimmy Carter was president at the time. He said okay.
Another was about sex and blackmail: There's a member of an Iranian sect who came to the US and frequented homosexual bars and engaged in homosexual activity. The FBI picks up on this and alerts the CIA to his presence. The strict Muslim policy of the terrorist group would be enraged if they found out the man was homosexual - he would be fired, to say the least. Should the CIA contact the man and threaten to tell his superiors about his sexuality unless he provides them with information?

You know, there was an article in TIME magazine last summer, back when my dad had that subscription. I remember topics of waterboarding. All kinds of ethical, controversial fun. Then there was one, which I have dug up for the sake of sharing the tenet of kindness. There was an Al-Qaeda operative that was captured and held in a Yemini prison for about a year. His name was Abu Jandal, and he was Osama bin Laden's chief bodyguard. The FBI came in to question him, unsuccessfully. He was uncooperative and difficult. And he didn't eat any of the cookies that were served at the meeting. One of the FBI officers learned that Jandal was diabetic, and couldn't eat sugar. So the next meeting, the officer brought him sugar-free cookies. The big bad bodyguard was touched. He softened. And started talking.

No form of physical or psychological torture was required.

They Burn in Our Brains - Become a Living Hell

Couple of confessions:

First, to recap something from the last post, "Hoping for the Best". Recall that there was a lobotomy case in the late 1940s where surgeons blindly severed blood vessels in a woman's brain in hopes of curing her eccentricity and making her fit into their idea of normal society. Well, a couple of days after I wrote that post, I had a scientific method activity in my physics-theater class (a class based on examining the presence of scientific principles in plays and such). In small groups, we had to make educated guesses at the contents of a sealed shoebox. We could shake it, drop it, throw it - just not open it. The first girl in my group picked up the box, shook it a few times, and declared that she thought it was a CD. Every subsequent person followed in suit, and agreed that it was a CD. For some reason, I just didn't want to agree with everyone else - even as the experiment continued and it became more apparent that it was, indeed, a CD. I held out for Tupperware lid.

Later in class, I thought about how my disagreement affected everyone else - my opinion was out of place. It was different. And it was wrong. I thought about how people in the 20th century would have looked at me. And I resolved that every day from then on, I should try to do at least one thing every day that's out of the ordinary - something out of place, something untraditional - something that would warrant the 20th century to stick a scalpel inside of my head.

Tonight, we had the traditional Lewis Hall Freshman Welcome. We went to the chapel (every dorm has its own chapel) and listened to our rector and hall staff talk about the emphasis on feeling at home here. Then we broke into floor sections and were given necklaces with the Notre Dame crest on one side and the Golden Dome engraved on the other. Then our RA threw a box of tissues into the center of the circle and proceeded to hand out letters. Letters from parents, or in my case, a letter from my RA, Kayla. I read the card and looked at the little fridge magnet she bought me. I finished and caught Kayla looking at me. I smiled and mouthed "thank you", seeing as how she'd written me a card so I would have something to read while the other girls cried over letters from their parents. I knew she pitied me. And I let her.

You see, I just happened to check the mail on the day that Lewis sent my parents the letter over the summer, asking them to write me a personal letter about how proud they are of me. I had seen the Notre Dame logo and opened it without looking at who it was addressed to. I played with the idea of giving them the letter. Explaining that I had opened it on accident and therefore ruined the surprise. But then I thought about it some more. My school had to send them a request for them to tell me that they're proud of me? I threw the letter away. Over orientation weekend, I got into a fight with my dad. I resorted to not speaking to him unless absolutely necessary - and even then, I wouldn't look at him. When the parents were asked to go into the chapel to listen to our rector Layla give a presentation, I quickly and clearly said, "If anyone asks you to write me a letter, don't. I don't want you to."

Everything went exactly as planned. But when I saw the trouble that Kayla went through, I felt horrible. I thought about confessing to the circle, but decided against it when I saw how affected my section was by their letters. Honestly, the idea of me crying in public repulses me. That's just how I am. The idea of showing emotion to strangers is...well, less than ideal. But wait: I would rather be pitied than display sentimentality? What the hell is wrong with me?

Maybe someone really should sweep a scalpel around the inside of my brain.

Hoping For the Best - Just Hoping Nothing Happens

On Monday, I went to a soccer game on campus. It was weird without a section of screaming boys beating an African drum and heckling the other team.

Although there were vuvuzelas.

Blogger doesn't recognize "vuvuzela" as a word.

Anyway. I left a little after the second half started and walked around, trying to associate myself with campus before classes started the next day. It really is as beautiful as everyone says it is. Even to a girl who's used to humidity in 90 degree weather and thinks that anything below 70 is a bit chilly.

I went to the library. The giant building with the mural of "Touchdown Jesus" facing the reflection pool. I just wandered around - wanting at first to find copies of my favorite books, but settling for wandering when I failed to locate anything but reference books.

I found myself in the basement somehow, surrounded by tall shelves - some with mechanical handles that fold them like an accordion to conserve space. When I'd given up on finding anything entertaining, I started to head back. I don't even remember why I stopped, but I did. And, somehow, I found myself in the middle of the medical book section. I remembered seeing the section highlighted on a map somewhere, but I had actually decided against the idea of actively searching for it.

I flipped through a few books. One on the history of thoracic surgery, something on psychology, others on puberty, etc. But then I came across a book entitled Last Resort. And I picked it out. It had a subtitle: Psychosurgery and the Limits of Medicine. Intriguing.

It was about the practice of lobotomies - cutting out a portion of the brain in hopes of fixing something - anything. Katy, stop reading. I scanned the table of contents, then began to read a chapter on how the times have changed and lobotomies are no longer effective. I lost interest quickly. But for some reason, I really wanted to hold on to this book.

So I went back to the beginning, and I read the first chapter, the introduction. It was entitled "A Stab in the Dark". The chapter described a case in 1947 of a thirty-three year old woman who had undergone brain surgery. Any by "brain surgery", I mean the doctor drilled two holes, one on each side of her temples, into her skull. He removed the pieces of bone, and inserted a blunt scalpel into one of the holes. He swept it back and forth, severing some of the tissues that hold the lobes together. Then he repeated it on the other side. If he didn't screw up any major blood vessels, he sewed up the ends of the tissues and stuck the pieces of bone back in. Operation complete.

And do you know why Miss Jane Doe had her brain cut open and stitched back together?

Society deemed her a failure. Her marriage failed and ended in divorce - solid proof that she couldn't fulfill her role in society as a housewife. She, herself, began to believe that she could never function in society the way she was expected to. She grew depressed and developed mental disorders like anxiety and hallucinations. Oh, and she experimented with women a little. Another societal no-no. And so her family committed her to a mental institution. Where she was poked and prodded and treated, to no avail. Now, this is a direct quote from the book: "...these doctors believed that by destroying a portion of [her] brain they might make life for her more bearable as well as transform her into a better person" (Pressman).

Because she didn't already fit into everyone else's idea of what was normal.

Pretty Girl, Beware of His Heart of Gold

Second day of orientation weekend. More parental hostility. More "inspirational" lectures (actually, there was a pretty good one or two today). And more Frosh-O.

However, today was...significantly less fabulous than yesterday. We had our first "event" with a boys hall, Keenan. They picked us up like gentleman on the front lawn, and we greeted them traditionally. The serenading was still the best part (no less fabulous by any means). Then they escorted us back to their dorm, where they surprised us with the activity: speed dating. God, it sounds so much better in theory and in the movies. The first few rounds were fun - there were cute guys, good conversations. But eventually things got pretty fuzzy - I can't even remember the name of the original guy who walked me to the dorm, which I feel horrible about because he was legitimately cute and sweet.

And then there was the rave. Keenan walked us to "Domer Fest", which was described in the schedule as games and stuff to meet other freshmen - but turned out to be a really big rave. Like, Project Graduation on steroids, in a club setting complete with strobe lights and dry ice. Of course, there were police and stuff around so it was more or less safe. All freshmen from ND, as well as the two neighboring colleges, St. Mary's and Holy Cross, were there. I can't even tell you how much raves are not my scene. And my introduction to college life was complete once the drunk upperclassmen who snuck in wearing Frosh shirts made themselves known. I realize how sheltered I am when I say that I had never seen, let alone talked to, people who were drunk as mess until tonight. Fabulous, right?

You know how when you have really low expectations, anything higher than what you expected seems incredible? Well, it applies vice versa. I loved everything from last night - and I guess I wanted to buy into the whole "Prince Charming" thing. Even if it is just a part that they play for an hour or two. But once we've done the traditional serenades and cheers and scheduled activities, the knights take off their armor and you're left with obnoxious freshman boys who are already planning when they're going to get drunk this weekend. And some that I just get bad feelings from.

Don't get me wrong, there are also some really great guys here. Good guys, bad guys, awkward guys, eccentric guys. Just no Prince Charmings. But, as someone who might be considered strong-willed and opinionated, I'm a little ashamed to admit how alluring the idea of chivalry is. I realize how old-fashioned that ideal is, and there really is very little solid, logical evidence in the expectation for men to treat women in a certain way.

But now that I actually see that sentence in writing - I'll revise my expectations - I'm not asking to be treated like a princess. I would just like to be treated with respect - not because I'm a girl, but because I'm a human being. And I think I deserve that much.

Roman Cavalry Choirs Are Singing

Move-in day. Of course I thought it would be awful. And naturally, it was. With a shaky night of sleep, I woke up bright and early to be shuffled around parking lots and finally into a tiny room. In retrospect, the day wasn't particularly horrible - as in no one was injured, broken up with, or anything. But tons of little things went wrong, which of course only put me into a pretty terrible mood. The last thing I wanted to do was go to Frosh-O (freshman orientation activities for dorms/whatever). I'd actually been dreading awkward "break the ice" games for weeks. But before I get into that, I'll make a running list of things that I've noticed/things that have happened so far. Not particularly in order.

1) Things are easier when my parents aren't around.
2) South Dining Hall is better than North. Sadly, my dorm is in the northern part of campus.
3) Books are horribly expensive. Like ridiculously. It isn't even funny. Mine were about $831 and some change. I had calculated about half of that, but because I needed to buy them in person to use my student account, all of the used books were gone and I had to get them all new.
4) Free food is a nice gesture. As are free things in general.
5) The squirrels in the north are weird. They're huge and an orange/gray color. And they randomly sit in the middle of sidewalks even when you need to get past.
6) The veggie burgers were pretty terrible. Mine cracked - literally - into two pieces when I put it on the plate.
7) Private schools are overrated.
8) The to-go coffee in the campus mini-mart is fair trade!
9) If anyone follows the trends of links I "share" on facebook, there's a top few things that I really love: awesome cover songs, things related to blog topics (money, credit, college, random statistics), and acapella.
10) I really like boys.

So, it would be the perfect end to my perfectly horrible day to be sat in a chair in front of my dorm's Frosh-O girls and staff and be serenaded by the fabulous male acapella extension of the Glee Club. They needed a girl who had "Tiffany" in their name, because they were going to sing Breakfast at Tiffany's by Deep Blue Something. Have I mentioned how fabulous these boys are?

Apparently, Notre Dame takes advantage of the fact that the dorms are single-sex. So it's tradition for each dorm to learn songs to hit on the other gender's dorms with. It sounded horrific to me on paper, but it's actually pretty fabulous. Everyone's doing it at the same time, so no one feels stupid. And then the guys reciprocate. And they really try to take advantage of the whole "Prince Charming" thing and are all so...charming. I wish I could be more eloquent and interesting, but it's almost 2am here in South Bend. I know, I've written really good stuff in the middle of the night before, but tonight it's more about...well, actually I do have a point.

STOP SCROLLING THROUGH MY STUPID GIRLY STORY AND READ MY POINT: Things can be really awful in every way for a really long time. But somehow, things will get better. When I went to Mass for the first time with Sara a few months ago, the guest speaker was Father Guy from Haiti. For a non-Catholic, this was probably the best sermon to be my first. He talked about the earthquake that devastated his community - and how they were recovering. In times of mass destruction - situations when large amounts of innocent, undeserving people are struck with utter chaos - people generally, in my uneducated opinion, turn towards or away from religion. Some question what kind of a God would allow such destruction to occur. Others have faith in a plan or a purpose and do their best to cope. While I'm wary of the idea of a "master plan", I do value the good things that come after the bad. It's that age-old principle that bad things happen because you need them to - even grand destruction can spur wonderful things - although you might have to wait for them. But when they do come - they'll matter all that much more because they have value. And they have value because they're rare - because they're not guaranteed. And because they don't last forever.,

Now Where's Your Picket Fence, Love?

Sometimes, I feel like it's a little bit ridiculous to expect someone to decide what they want to do with their lives over the course of 19 years - the majority of which is spent learning basic cognitive and social skills. But the pressure starts early on. Can you remember how old you were the first time an adult asked you "So, what do you want to be when you grow up?" And have you ever noticed how children seem to have the most tenacious dreams? Whether it's wanting to grow up to be a ballerina, or a veterinarian, or a singer, or whatever else their impressionable minds can get a hold of. I think it gets more difficult as you get older because it gets scary - it gets real. Every decision is second-guessed because you're always wondering if it's the right choice: the right choice for you, or the right choice for people around you. Is it more important to do what makes you happy, or to do what pays the bills? But before you know it, you're a sophomore in college and the registrar is demanding that you place a label on your diploma. And somehow, you pick something - anything - and start your life. A few years later, there's still another question to ask yourself: Are you happy?

So, we've got the child who dreams outrageous things, and the adult who's wondering if it's too late to be a ballerina. But they're actually in similar situations. When you ask a four year old what they want to spend the rest of their life doing, they'll tell you what they know - and usually it's what makes them happy. For example, if she wants to be a ballerina, it's because she loves going to lessons. If she wants to be a scientist, it's because she follows her parents to work sometimes. If he wants to be a baseball player, it's because his dad helps him practice for rec league. You get it.

Now, when you ask an eighteen year old what they want to spend the rest of their life doing, you probably didn't notice the slight change in their facial expression when they saw it coming. You see, when a four year old tells you what they want to be, it probably isn't taken seriously - it's just so adults can fawn over how adorable he or she is. But when you ask a teenager, you're expecting a serious answer. A solid answer. Even though they're still trying to figure out if writing will pay the bills, or if they're good enough at math to be an engineer. Usually, they've got a premeditated answer. Something along the lines of "I'm thinking about majoring in [insert major]". Something noncommittal, yet sufficient. Something believable, and maybe even impressive. Or maybe they're audacious enough to tell you the truth: "I don't know yet".

But usually, the major that said teenager decides on is something that they know - whether it's because they've taken a class in high school or their freshman year of college, or it's what their parents or family friends do. But there's always some kind of background - and it's understandable. You wouldn't just close your eyes and pick a major off of a page, or choose whichever one sounds the coolest. And despite how convenient it would be, it simply isn't possible to let you test drive all fifty-something majors before you choose. You pick the one you know about. And if you find that you're miserable, you've got to start all over if happiness is your goal.

But why does it have to come down to that?

So, for everyone who's starting college these next few weeks and have no idea what the hell you want to do for the next 40 or 50 years: I'm not judging you.

Take Your Bank Before I Pay You Out

There's this filmmaker named Michael Moore. He's famous for making bold documentaries challenging government actions and other controversial topics like terrorism (Fahrenheit 9/11), gun violence (Bowling for Columbine), and health care (Sicko). But his main focus is on economics - namely, the downfall of the American economy.

Today, I watched his most recent documentary, Capitalism: A Love Story. It followed Moore as he examined the effects of a money-driven society on people's lives - specifically, what happens when you can't pay back bank loans. Answer: they take your house. Or whatever it is you have left. But the real kicker came in after we watch a family clean out their house and take their things to the local dump (the bank could have the house stripped for them, but they offered the family $1,000 to do it themselves). After they had burned the last few wooden armoires, the son remarked that at least he still has his hobby - flying. He aspires to be a pilot - something I've always viewed as an honorable profession. However, almost as a cruel stroke of irony, Moore's documentary goes on to confess that pilots are some of the lowest paid workers in the US. Which is absolutely ridiculous, considering the about of pressure placed on their profession. But they're seriously only paid a starting salary of around $20,000 a year; it's common for rookie pilots to live on food stamps for a while. It takes years to reach the high 20ks.

I always thank pilots at the end of a flight just because it's polite. I'm going to start shaking their hands.

Anyway. That was just a side fact, no one's clearly to blame. But a couple of other things addressed in the documentary caught my attention. Like, there was a woman who decorated cakes at Wal-Mart - she suddenly died of a severe asthma attack. Her family, of course, was left with hospital bills and funeral expenses - and was infuriated to find out that Wal-Mart had taken out a life insurance policy on her, but named themselves as the beneficiaries. Wal-Mart got $81,000. The family got more bills. This same situation happened to a family in Houston - the husband worked for Amegy Bank and was diagnosed with cancer. Amegy got over $1.5 million when he died. And it's perfectly legal. Something called "Dead Peasants" policies that corporations take out on their employees - some even estimate what percentage of their workers will die every year and factor it into the annual budget.

And then there's the thing with the government. On September 18, 2008, there was this huge financial crisis. Before then, everything was fine, nothing out of the ordinary. But all of a sudden, that Thursday morning, Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson gave Congress a five-page document demanding a $700 billion bail-out plan, or all hell would break loose. The White House was quick to encourage Congress to sign the plan immediately - which conveniently included a clause saying it was not to be reviewed against any legal measures to save time. Eventually, a deal was cut.

A few things are wrong with what happened that day. First, I don't know about you, but I had no idea that happened. As far as I was concerned, 9/18/08 was Bailey's 17th birthday. It was a Thursday. I must have even watched the news that evening at dinner like I do every other night. But I definitely didn't hear about this. Actually, here are the headlines that ran that day on a democratic news site. I've only been able to find a couple of very carefully worded headlines on very specific sites. You'd think that news of a national crisis would have made it to the general public. However, the government keeping information from the public, I can understand - they're in a position of power. But the government keeping information from themselves? I mean, Congress was straight blindsighted by that bailout plan.

This probably isn't the way things are supposed to work in the US. So here's what I think: obviously, we're supposed to have a democracy - meaning the people have power. And the government knows this, as well as the big-shot corporations. And so they'll do anything to keep the public from being educated on behind-the-curtain actions - if we don't know there's anything wrong, we won't try to change anything. But not everyone here is bad - some of the people involved in these actions are as in the dark as we are. Moore interviewed someone in the government banking industry who said that there's pretty much a "don't ask, don't tell" policy in place. They don't ask the government what they're going to do with the money, and so the government doesn't tell them.

When Franklin Roosevelt was in office, he proposed a "Second Bill of Rights" in a State of the Union address. It has also been called an Economic Bill of Rights. It outlines basic "rights" - I put that in quotations because, while they're such basic things, there are people who unjustly live without them. Things like a job, health care, adequate income, and education. FDR died a year or so later, and no action was ever taken on his proposition.

The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

Recently, the University of Notre Dame's Facebook page (yes, I follow their fan page) posted several articles regarding the "worth" of a college diploma. Of course, they chose articles in which they were featured and spoken of in a good light. But anyway, the first article that caught my eye was from PayScale. They determined the worth of a school's diploma based on the average net return-on-investment (ROI) after thirty years (Notre Dame ranked 9th, MIT took 1st). The ROI is basically how much money you make after graduation in comparison with how much you paid for your education. Also on the Top 10 were the California Institute of Technology, Harvey Mudd College, and of course, the usual Ivies.

Pretty good advertisement, right? Well, yesterday they posted something from The Chronicle entitled "Are Colleges Worth the Price of Admission?". At first, I had problems accessing the article, so I decided to research the topic on my own. The best article I found was the one I posted on my Facebook, "Some Debt-Laden Graduates Wonder Why They Bothered With College" from abc News. It addresses the common belief that the best way to make money is to start off with the best education. But today's economy offers a limited number of jobs to all of these well-educated college graduates. So what does that mean? Not all of them are going to get good jobs. And so we see an increase in the number of people who took out loans to pay for college, only to graduate and find that they don't have enough income to pay it back. A Bachelor's degree will still get you more than a high school diploma - but it'll also set you back more as well.

Of course, the ever present question still stands: why is college so expensive? CNN's Money Magazine offers a few answers: supply and demand, marketing strategy, and a "luxury arms race".

The luxury arms race is the most obvious - schools are using the money to build state of the art dorms, classrooms, fitness centers, etc., essentially competing with other schools in an "arms race" of who has the more attractive campus. Personally, this doesn't really bother me since the students are the ultimate beneficiaries.

The other two, however, while understandable and clever, can also qualify as devious and avaricious if you ask me. I remember a while ago, Katy said that if it's becoming more common for people to want to get a college degree these days, why don't they make said education more affordable? Answer: because they know that people want education - and so they'll charge whatever they want knowing that someone, somewhere is willing to pay it. It's kind of like that concept about expectations we learned in economics: when a natural disaster is expected, the prices of flashlight batteries and bottled water will increase just enough to make a profit on public hype.

Additionally, comes the idea of strategic pricing. This is one I never really thought about. Obviously, the Ivy League schools are a bit pricier than say, state schools. But while the quality of education remains without a definitive price tag, people still have a subconscious respect for universities that charge more for tuition. CNN referenced Ursinus College in Pennsylvania who increased their cost of tuition and fees by 17.6% and were met with 200 more applicants than the previous year. Within eight years, the freshman class was 56% larger. It's like profiling - the way you would judge a person by just by looking at them. Stereotypically, racially, culturally, etc. - making assumptions without exchanging a word. The same goes for colleges; prospective employers will generally look at a Harvard diploma with admiration and a community college diploma with apprehension. Obviously, other things would be taken into account in a job interview, but you can't doubt that in the back of his/her mind, they're making a judgement - despite who may be better qualified in the end.

In a Valiant Effort to Understand

Another one of my favorite obsessions is horror movies - not necessarily watching them, but reading the "spoilers" and descriptions on the Internet. I can't really handle seeing graphic violence on screen, but reading about it is okay (I coincidentally read an article in my mom's old Women's World magazine today about how that works) - example: A Clockwork Orange was wonderful, but don't expect me to see the movie anytime soon. But I do have a kind of intrigue for the stories in slasher films - I think it started with stumbling upon a Wikipedia article depicting all of the different traps from the Saw movies. Mind you, I've only ever actually watched the first movie as the edited version that runs on cable. But I remember thinking how ingenious the traps were; most of them even had a simple way out, if only the victims had calmed down or thought ahead. Even the drive of Jigsaw was clever to me - he threatened people (in, albeit, extreme ways) to show them the worth of their lives. But maybe people just need to be shocked in order to be changed sometimes.

Which brings me to my point: I have nothing but awe and respect for filmmakers that utilize influence over human sensitivity in order to make a point - appealing to their "pathos", if you will (fun fact: "pathos" is Greek for "suffering" or "experience"). And I have even more reverence for the director or writer who can create a story that is equally powerful, but in actuality has left most of the shock to be imagined by the viewer. Another fun fact: the first Texas Chainsaw Massacre movie from the 70s was made with limited sex, violence, and language in hopes of getting a PG rating from the MPAA so that more people would go see it.

Naturally, it's the films that have equal shock value but little gore that I look out for. But in light of today's techonology and desensitivity, mainstream movies like that are rare, and the ones that are given a chance, like Paranormal Activity, are acclaimed (I still can't get over the fact that they made the movie with a budget of like $15,000, and grossed almost $200,000,000). The effect of being exposed to so much violence on people in society is something that has been studied and wondered about for as long as horror movies have been aroud. I came across a list of the "Top Ten Most Controversial Horror Films" in Bloody-Disgusting.com's article, "Culture Shock: The Influence of History on Horror". I found it interesting that the majority of the films on that list weren't the slice-and-dice "horror porn" movies that are popular now, but movies - some of which I hadn't heard of - from the 70s and 80s. Odd, considering what modern movie-making can do today (but, of course, pretty much all ten movies have either already been remade, or is in the process of being redone).

The movie that earned the number one spot was Cannibal Holocaust (1980). It's about an anthropology professor who goes into the Amazon to look for a missing documentary crew. He gets hold of the film that they made before they dissappeared, and goes back to NYU to try to salvage the documentary, only to find that the film reveals what happened to the crew and what they did - basically, it's a "found footage" movie, like Cloverfield, where part of the movie is filmed in a "home video" format for a more realistic feel. But Cannibal Holocaust was so genuinely messed up that the director, Ruggero Deodato, was arrested because viewers truly believed that the footage was real - and that people were really murdered (of course, it didn't help that the actors signed a contract saying they wouldn't appear in other movies for a year to mess with the public, making it look like they were dead). Oh, and they really killed animals! Like, they actually took animals and violently killed them, as opposed to using special effects. Deodato was eventually cleared of the charges after demonstrating to a courtroom how one of the violent scenes was staged. He, as well as the screenwriter, producers, and film studio, was convicted of obscenity and violence. They each received a four-month suspended sentence.

Anyway, other than just being incredibly offensive, the idea of Cannibal Holocaust was the classic Pocahontas moral - that people who are considered "civilized" can be more depraved than indigenous "savages" (and look, Disney proved it with a G-rating and no lawsuits). But the bottom line is that the movie meant something. As did the other controversial movies on the list. I noticed after a while that, while reading the movie synopses, I had the habit of looking for some kind of meaning - some justification, if you will, for all of the violence and controversy. I was judging them by weighing the moral with the content. Most passed, but then I got to thinking about the "horror porn" we have now - Hostel, for example. I don't know about you, but I can remember to not follow strangers without being traumatized, thank you. Then I realized - not all movies have a "hidden meaning" or justification. They're violent for the sake of being violent. It's like people have lost the respect for movie-making, and are taking advantage of society's love for violence in order to make money. But why, for goodness sake, is violence so seductive?

Already Stubborn Skin Thickens

Last Friday, I went downtown to Juliana Tokyo for lunch with my dad and his friend. On Toomer's Corner, there were members of some kind of religious group - men, women and children - dressed in modest, traditional style clothing (simple, plain-cut pieces); except their clothes were made from material of unusually bright colors in a plaid pattern. The men were holding signs and yelling something about going to Hell at everyone that walked or drove past while the women handed out pamphlets quietly.

My dad said that people from religious groups like them used to be stationed on campus at AU - only if you refused a pamphlet or kept walking, they would shout obscenities and throw things. And that's how religious solicitors were banned on campus.

But, of course, people are still allowed to stand on street corners or assemble in public places and petition things that they believe in as part of their freedoms to assemble and expression. But where is the line between self-expression and public offense? There was something on the news today that featured a clip of a Black Panther activist at a rally shouting about killing [white] people. In the United States, the government is strictly prohibited from restricting any form of speech - even if it encourages violence.

And if the police arrest someone, probably on the grounds of disorderly conduct, history generally proves that the offenders are protected in court by the freedom of expression clause. But does "expression" encompass derogatory comments or actions directed towards people based on race, beliefs, or choices? And if so, then what's protecting the people on the other end of "expressions"?

Ivories that Slice Sedatives in Half

On Thursday morning, I woke up to realize that the left side of my mouth was swollen where I got my wisdom teeth out - three weeks ago. I figured it would get better, and that it was probably just a reaction to something I ate - spicy food or something seemed plausible. But this morning it seemed to be a lot worse, so I called the Urgent Care center to make sure they were open (of course they were, considering how many idiots with access to fire crackers were running around today). I knew I had an infection, and really only needed antibiotics to clear it up, and it seemed like entirely too much trouble to go and sit in the waiting room at UC for that, especially when I wasn't positive that they would even give me a prescription. So I called Dr. Parker's office, and they got him on his cell phone. He offered to call in a prescription for more antibiotics and threw in another for Lortab as well (which, come to think of it, was a rather iffy move - I could have easily been lying to get more drugs).

Anyway, before I called Dr. Parker, I looked around on the Internet to see if there were any over-the-counter options I could use, only to find that it's illegal to sell OTC antibiotics in the US. But some other sites came up, offering brand suggestions in the UK - where OTC antibiotics are legal. This must be one of the many areas that the US and UK differ in - censorship, government, and health care. After doing a bit of research, I've come up with a significant list of pros and cons.

The most widely accepted reason for limiting public access to antibiotics is that excessive use could lead to the development of resistant strains of bacteria - rendering antibiotics obsolete, and leaving people in a whole lot of danger. However, an article I found in the Oxford Journals (naturally) states that there really isn't much solid proof that overusing antibiotics can lead to uber-bacteria.

Then we get into the fuzzy areas. The UK made OTC antibiotics legal so that the people would have more access to health care - trusting that they would use them responsibly and that it would only do them good. This is where the idea of universal health care comes in - it's thought that if you provide health care to everyone, the doctors and pharmacists won't be needed as much, and therefore lose business and jobs and money. But in my opinion, if more people can be helped at the expense of someone's already ample paycheck, then why not?

And, of course, if something in the US is illegal, there's going to be people finding ways around it. An article I came across listed four main options: pet stores, the Internet, back-ally ethnic supermarkets, and Mexico. Basically, they're all pretty risky. The "pet store" option is the funniest to me - the antibiotics used on fish are chemically the same as the stuff we use for ourselves, so you just go in, buy some, and take an extra large dose.

Sadly, I have a really bad reaction to Lortab, including nausea and dizziness, so I'm going to have to cut this short here. I'll try to be more prolific when I'm off these pills.

Tell Me What You Want to Hear

Validation is something I spend a ridiculous amount of my life striving to feel. It's what I want from my parents, from my friends, my teachers - you name it. Validation is defined by the Princeton dictionary as "...the act of validating; finding or testing the truth of something". I wonder what that means for me.

When I got my final ACT score back, and was still shy of my goal, I had a mini-breakdown to Katy about it. However, honest Katy asked me why I wanted that number so badly when my score was pretty good anyway; did I only want it because other people had it? It's been about ten months since that conversation, and of course, everything's different now. At this point, high school grades and ACT scores mean nothing - it's only about what I do and who I choose to be from this point forward. But it's taken me this long - now that it doesn't matter anymore - to come up with an answer to Katy's question:

I used to think that I wanted a higher score because I wanted to prove that I was as good as the people who had done better than I had. Which is mostly true, but I think it's a little deeper than that. I heard somewhere that Evan Lysacek's father told him once that if someone is better than him, it just means he has to work twice as hard. That quote has stuck in my head for months. For the longest time, I held that I didn't believe in letting other people set the standards for "ideal" or "good" - which was my reason for not doing IB - there was just so much extra work required, and I liked the freedom that AP awarded me. But lately I think I've been a lot more subject to society and its rules than I would have liked to think.

A couple of weeks ago, a couple of things happened: I had an honest conversation with my dad about my major, and we went to Family Fun Day at the University. First was Family Fun Day, which we've gone to almost every year from as far back as I can remember. And at the picnic, we saw a woman that we vaguely know but hadn't seen in a while - she's maybe in her fifties, with slightly graying hair and a friendly demeanor, and she's always alone. I commented that watching her makes me sad sometimes because of how lonely she looks, to which my dad somewhat sarcastically replied "That's what happens when you wait too long to get married."

And Katy, this is where I'll pull in my response to your SATC blog entry. With a throw to Carrie Bradshaw's "should" theory: do we fall in love and get married because it's what society and our peers expect of us? Relationships are definitely not my area of expertise, so I can't really comment on love or how it comes about. And I'm aware that most scientists or traditionalists (like my dad) will say that humans form relationships in order to procreate and continue the human race. But what if that's not what you want? Marriage may be expected, or even convenient, but it's definitely not for everyone. I have an older cousin, Christina, who's in her forties, lives with her mother who she loves immensely, has a good job, and has no intention of getting married any time soon. I think she's happy, and therefore: she's done. And while I wonder if that's enough for me - it seems to be enough for her, and I think that's okay.

But then came the honest conversation. My dad had been bugging me about thinking about choosing a major. Notre Dame offers a major called "pre-professional sciences" that basically builds a general base of the sciences in preparation for medical school, but he didn't like that idea. Instead, I should major in biology or chemistry, something specific. To me, the choice had its own pros and cons: would I rather be a Jack of all trades, or a master of one? I related this to him, and he said that med schools don't care about exactly what you majored in as long as you have the required credits. And this got me to thinking: I can do anything. I might have a shot at being creative or introspective or even artistic.

I'll probably major in something in the sciences just because that's what I do, but I'm not giving up on the idea of minoring in something I love but have never gotten to look into, like sociology or anthropology (something I blame on the high school curriculum).

But wait, why do I want this again? Honestly, I really can't explain it. But this career path is something that I do genuinely want. With that said, I'm going to take a risk and lay down my theory - something people are generally aware of, but I've never heard addressed. People who are raised by minority ethnicity families will generally fall into a predictable pattern: they'll generally do well in school, appear slightly more mature than others, hold high aspirations, and end up either in med school, grad school, etc. If you ask me, I'd say I fit pretty well into that pattern, which was what was expected of me. Let's put it this way: a few weeks ago, we went to Sharon's wedding. At the reception, we talked to all of the people we hadn't seen in a while whose children have grown and prospered according to plan. I was the lucky one, being young enough that my future looks bright and promising, but I don't have to actually deliver much more than a smile and a "Thank you". But I can't help but think about what would have been thought of a family who raised a kid that quit school and ran off to join a band or something radical like that.

Also, I finished A Clockwork Orange a while ago. But I was waiting until I had generated enough material to comment on it. ACO was, as I've said, about a teenager named Alex who had a passion for violence and destruction. Anyone with basic knowledge of the story would know that the book is about how the government performed an experimental procedure on Alex that would make him hate violence - "curing" him and making him fit perfectly into society (which is very ironic, if you read the book, but I won't say much more). Basically, they forced him into a cookie-cutter and, as a character protests, took away his sense of humanity by taking away his ability to choose. Alex was choosing to be violent, but that choice was revoked by the government, so the question stands - is it better to have a perfect citizen with no free will, or to have an imperfect human being that is exercising his rights?

Arm Yourself, Because No One Else Here Will Save You

One of my longest-running obsessions is lifestyle experiments - where you adopt a lifestyle completely different from your own in order to learn about how other people live. I think my interest started with Morgan Spurlock when he did Super Size Me and ate nothing but McDonald's for a month to see what would happen (answer: bad things). And then Spurlock launched the series 30 Days, where he did various things like give everything up and live on minimum wage, incarcerate himself in jail, or otherwise take another person and put them in a situation opposite to how they live their own lives (i.e., a pro-choice activist lives with a pro-life family; a homophobic lives in a gay community, etc.).

Anyway, 30 Days was cancelled about two years ago, and my interest gradually died down (I actually never noticed that it ran a third season before it was cancelled). But two weeks ago, I got my wisdom teeth out and - in a Lortab-induced sloth like state - exhausted the On Demand function on my cable box and watched everything that caught my eye, namely other lifestyle experiment shows. Mostly BBC, Planet Green, and Discovery Health, to name a few channels - I could go on for pages about the different shows, but I'll spare you that. Anyway, the BBC is rather innovative and audacious with their experiments - they'll go all out on ridiculous things, like doing various crash diets in hopes of achieving a size 0, or smoking lots of marijuana to see what it does to you (see Super High Me).

But there were also more realistic ones that were more inclined to seeking a moral from the experience. Blood, Sweat, and Takeaways (and Blood, Sweat and T-Shirts) took six people and made them work in sweatshops (slaughtering animals and producing textiles, respectively), also requiring that they live under the same conditions as the people who spend their lives there. They have to do dirty, back-breaking, degrading work for very little pay and still have to find a way to make enough to provide for their families. I've always heard the phrase "cheap labor", but I never really thought about how everything works - basically, fast food and chain-store clothes are sold so cheap because the distributors are saving a heck of a lot of money on labor. While I don't see how that's ethical in any way, I'm sure many people will tell me things like "life isn't fair", or "free market capitalism". To each their own opinion.

Speaking of ethics; here's a touchier subject that's been on my mind today: how much of your body is marketable? Legally, and ethically. For example, you can go to a blood center and donate blood plasma for about $35 or so twice a week, which is the least taboo of everything I've researched. And I've known that guys could go to a sperm bank and sometimes receive a monetary compensation for their donation - something significantly easier, doesn't even involve needles, and will get you about $200, maybe. Unfortunately, women don't have the luxury of that ease. But something that's recently become popular is women selling their eggs to infertile couples. This is substantially more difficult than either of the other procedures - interested parties must pass rigorous physical as well as psychological exams in order to be deemed fit. About 10% of women will pass on to the next step. If a woman is approved and chosen by an interested couple, she must then go on a hormone regime, which involves taking a daily hormone shot in the lower stomach to stimulate the ovaries (normally, one egg is released every month, but with hormones, you'll get maybe 10-25). Then, she'll go in for an outpatient procedure to have the eggs extracted by a needle and a suction tube. When she recovers, she'll be rewarded with anywhere from $3,000 to $15,000, depending on a variety of factors.

Sounds slightly terrifying, right? And it has all kinds of downsides, from minor inconveniences to health risks - some of which haven't even been fully investigated - and everything in between. But what reporters are postulating is that in the declining economy, people will do anything to get themselves out of debt. And that is why young, healthy female college students who are suffering from student loans and credit card debt are the prime target.

But where do you draw the line between taboo and just plain wrong? Generally, things like hair, plasma and sperm are socially acceptable to be traded for money, mostly because your body can make more. However, women only have as many eggs as they're born with, yet paid egg donation is completely legal. And while you're born with two kidneys, you really only need one - yet you can't be monetarily compensated for donating the other. And livers will grow back if you donate a part of it, but that's only accepted as a donation as well (disregarding that most donations are between family members who wouldn't dream of charging one another a penny).

I'm not even going to try to address black market organ rings, or anything like that, simply because it's late, and trying to figure that stuff out makes me sad.

A last few things:
1) I finished A Clockwork Orange. Notes to come.
2) I have a reading plan for all the time I have to wait on my dad at the University in between classes: Finished ACO, check. Now to finish The Hunchback of Notre Dame, which I abandoned two months ago for happier books. Then The Picture of Dorian Gray.

I've Seen Diamonds Cut Through Harder Men

When I was four or five, I used to spend a lot of time with my dad at Auburn University. I played Disney games on his computer in his office, or I sat in a desk in his classroom and colored while he lectured. I even cleaned the blackboards when I got bored. My dad works on the third floor of Allison Lab. And I would always take the elevator up and down to his office, even though the building only has three stories. (Fun fact: Dr. Fred Allison, of whom the building was named after, is credited with the discovery of the element astatine in 1931 - back when AU was called the Alabama Polytechnic Institute).

For the past few weeks, I've been observing a physics class taught by Dr. Simon. During my down time, I sit in my dad's office like I used to - only now I read Julius Ceasar and A Clockwork Orange (when Shakespeare gets unbearable), as opposed to coloring. Everything about the buildings is the same - from the thin layer of chalk dust that covers pretty much every surface, to the echoey lecture halls in Parker Hall. And one thing in particular that bugs me a little:

Allison Lab has only one women's bathroom in the entire building that's located on the second floor. I vaguely remember always having to go downstairs to get to the bathroom when I was little. But now that I actually stop to think about it - I only know of one female member of the faculty in the physics department. Her name is Yu Lin - I don't remember much about her other than that my dad used to drive her to the airport and that she wears leather skirts, and that she had some medical problem with her neck a while ago. Something about fish. A lack of eating fish.

Anyway. Yu Lin's office is located, of course, on the second floor of Allison. Along with the secretaries and other female employees. So, I wonder: is there really that much of a male prevalence at the university - or the science community in general? And has it been that way for so long that the people who built Allison didn't have reason to build more than one women's bathroom?

Maybe things will be different in ten years - when our generation replaces theirs. But off the record: does anyone know of a girl in our class (or at all) that's majoring in physics? Because I can really only think of Joanna Lucero, that girl from Lindy Focus. And that's not enough.

In other news, I made it through a good part of A Clockwork Orange in my dad's office today. A few points:
1) It's addictive.
2) When I read the first page, I was thrown and confused. I wanted to text Sara and sarcastically ask if any of the words on that first page were real. Anthony Burgess came up with a diction of "teenage slang" that, at first, seems nonsensical. However, after reading more, it's actually pretty amazing how it affects your thinking - you start to piece together what some of the words mean (for example, "sharp" means woman, and "podooshka" is pillow). It's like learning to use context clues all over again. Anyway, chalk it up to one of the random things I get excited over that no one else cares for if you must.
3) Alex DeLarge reminds me of Patrick Bateman from American Psycho - they both have an intense passion for music and equate ultra-violence with their excitement.
4) Why is the Harry Potter series on the Notre Dame reading list under 'fantasy/futuristic novels' and A Clockwork Orange isn't?

But it's Sad and it's Sweet and I Knew it Complete

In 1998, I couldn't skip or kick a ball to a target. But I did however, speak in complete sentences, know my home address, appear emotionally stable, and use scissors 'effectively' (whatever that means). I was deemed ready for grade school.

And tonight (or, yesterday, really), I graduated from high school. It wasn't what I expected, somehow - maybe it's one of those things that you hold impossibly high expectations for and end up disappointed in the end. But 'disappointed' doesn't seem quite right - and I'm not sure what is. I have earned something. I'm just trying to figure out what.

Today, I flipped through an old issue of Vogue at Dimensions while Katy got her hair trimmed. I used to read things like Seventeen and Elle for various reasons, like fashion or beauty tips, etc. But today, after passing over a ridiculous number of advertisements, I settled on an article about facelifts. When I was about fourteen or so, I went to Dr. Rona Beth Holmes, a dermatologist here in Auburn, to have a mole under my collarbone removed. (Side note: Dr. Holmes actually ended up being my Duke University Alumni interviewer this spring). One of the first things I noticed was that her private practice office was nothing like the pediatrician's office. Instead of picture books and building blocks, there were fashion magazines and fitness guides. There were lotion samples and skin care regimens displayed as if it was a store. The next thing I noticed was that Dr. Holmes was very pretty, and rather young - another alternative to the pediatricians I've had. As an impressionable teenager, I found it fascinating that it was possible for someone to have their career based on both beauty and medicine.

The facelift article in Vogue was about a woman, now 68 years old, who, over the course of sixteen years, went through two invasive procedures (i.e. facelifts done by surgically cutting the skin and pulling it tighter) as well as newer, alternative procedures (i.e. laser treatment). I think when I first expressed my interest in the article to Katy, it came off as something along the lines of "Look, this woman looks great after the surgeries - I might consider this when I'm her age". Which isn't true - I have a weird aversion to surgeries that are designed to make you look younger. It's like you're lying to people without saying anything. What I really meant was: Look, this is what people are capable of doing to themselves. The article was about how technology has changed over the time between the woman's first face lift and now. When she had her first procedure at age 52, it involved a scalpel and common sense: if you don't want wrinkles, let's cut off the extra skin. (Katy, I'm trying not to be too graphic). But today, new technologies are available, like laser treatment and autologous fat transfer (using liposuction to take fat from the patient's abdomen or thighs and injecting it into parts of the face that appear "sunken in"). And the impressive part about the new technologies is that they're innovative - they utilize common knowledge in a way that requires less work to be done. For example, the skin is made up of several layers and sub-layers, the outermost of which is dead and will be shed quickly. Then, the subsequent layers grow until they die as well, and the body continues in this cycle. (Coincidentally, I was reading up on this stuff yesterday for no reason). With the knowledge that the body will continue to regenerate healthy skin cells, one of the ideas of using laser treatment is to destroy the top, "old" layer of skin, knowing that new, "young" cells will grow in their place.

I'm sure that entire spiel was pretty boring to most people who actually read it. I am quite aware that I find entertainment in things that others don't. But my point is that things change. When I first went to Dr. Holmes, I left considering a career in dermatology, simply because it supported healthy physical beauty. But now I realize that it's more than something as superficial as that - you have no idea how excited I was to get those two stitches below my clavicle.

Twelve years ago, I couldn't kick a ball to a target, or skip across a room. And today, I graduated from high school, reaffirmed my belief in science, and am one step closer to finding what makes me happy. Oh, and I kicked Neal's butt playing darts at Project Graduation. I guess I learned to aim at a target at some point as well.

Does This Make You Feel Safe?

Last week, I officially sent my enrollment deposit to the University of Notre Dame. Somehow, I thought everything after making the decision would be all down hill - however, there still lies the question of "how am I going to pay for it?".

When I wrote the first blog entry while filling out federal aid papers, I didn't fully understand exactly what I was doing. I think I was under the impression that receiving federal aid meant the government would give me money because I needed it - it didn't really occur to me that they would, but I'd have to pay it back, i.e. student loans - I just didn't make the connection.

On Friday night, I had to complete an online loan counseling session that taught me what my federal loan is and when I'm expected to pay it back. I'm getting two kinds of loans, a federal direct loan for $3,500 a year, which is from the U.S. Department of Education, and a federal Perkins loan for $2,400 a year, which comes from the university. In total, I'm borrowing $5,900 annually as of right now - I may have to borrow less depending on variable expenses like transportation and books, etc. The total estimated cost of a year at Notre Dame is about $53,000. For the first year, I'm getting about $32,000 a year on scholarship. Depending on if I decide to do the work study program for another $2,000 a year doing odd jobs for the university, we have to pay the balance of whatever's left.

However, my parents definitely don't have some $20,000 just laying around every year. So how do we make the difference?
Get another loan.

The loan process is actually rather efficient. It sounds rather scary to owe so much money, but the payment schedule is pretty reasonable. Upon graduating from Notre Dame, I'll owe about $24,000. After graduation, I have a six month "grace period" before I have to make my first payment within 60 days of the end of the grace period. I can choose from a range of payment plans that spread the total over 10-30 years. According to the chart, if I choose the standard plan, with my total I'll pay about $300 a month and be done in less than 10 years.

However, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to get the money for med school...but I think we're just going to have to worry about that later, considering the idea of coming up with another $200,000 is not a very pretty idea.

Your Spotless Instincts are Valid

College tours: Day 4, Case Western Reserve University

Some good news is that I'm actually getting used to flying - most effectively when I'm knocked out cold. The smaller planes really aren't as bad, though. We left South Bend yesterday morning around 6am and flew to Detroit, Michigan (side note, this was the only airport that played a periodical recording about looking after yourself and what to do if someone looks sketchy). Then we flew to Cleveland, Ohio and took a $45 cab ride to Case. We stayed in an on-campus hotel called the Glidden House, which used to be some old historical building that they renovated into a lovely, classy little bed and breakfast place. I called Mara in the lobby and she met us there to go for lunch. She took us downtown to a section of the city called Little Italy, a cluster of Italian restaurants down the street from campus. After lunch, she showed me her dorm room and the residential area of campus. I had been slightly worried about visiting Cleveland after all the horror stories I've heard, but I actually found the city agreeable - simpler than New York, classier than Atlanta, and of course, more exciting than Auburn (or South Bend, for that matter - but more on that later). The campus area is definitely safe - especially with four different police departments looking out for the city. I could tell my dad didn't like the city though, despite it's good qualities, like research developments and unbelievable architecture - there are buildings that are built with minimal right angles, bricks and windows curving inwards except to meet a few city code regulations - I'll try to post pictures eventually.

Today, we got up early, had breakfast at the hotel, then headed down to the Case reception.

The biggest difference I noted between the Case and Notre Dame tours is that Case was much flashier with their welcome. They gave me souvenirs, colorful pamphlets, bookstore coupons, and were just so...accommodating and welcome. Notre Dame was much quieter - much more subtle.

Which leads me to the ultimate differences between the campuses and their respective cities. Notre Dame in South Bend was located towards the very outskirts of the city. If you were walking, you could tell when the campus was getting closer because everything would drop away - buildings, restaurants, etc - and leave a vast span of green grass (the only iffy part is that the next thing you see is a few areas fenced off with barbed wire - still not entirely sure what their obsession with the stuff is). But even after that, there's a bit more of a walk before you actually get to campus buildings. Everything there was peacefully quiet - respectful, yet friendly and welcoming. And there is literally so much life - but in the form of trees and grass and flowers and whatever those birds living on the lake were (ducks or geese or swans, etc.).

Case Western in Cleveland, on the other hand was completely different. The city has life in its own way - crowded with people who are constantly pushing and learning and improving - my definition of a large city. Places like that tend to be prosperous because they put so much effort into attracting people and building new things - good, honorable intentions. My favorite thing that I took note of was a two part makeshift bus bench that was actually two concrete word cutouts that said "Change Things". However, the city is divided, as most large cities are. There are safe parts, like campus and restaurants and churches, but if you go too far past any of those things - you're in a good amount of trouble.

Another largely attractive thing about Case's developmental progress is that so much of it is open to students. There are so many programs that delegate jobs and research opportunities and travelling primarily to Case students. There is no question that opportunities are available.

It's no question that Case has a better research program - you can go from undergrad to med school or law school, or grad studies all in the same campus - most things are guaranteed, if not promised. But Notre Dame, in contrast, is largely based on faith - in more ways than one in this situation. The way I see it, graduating from Notre Dame could lead to going on to a great med school, like Hannah. I could travel and do work to help developing countries. I feel like there's so much available - but I can't see it. I have no proof that the opportunities are there for me. And what happens after Notre Dame depends on how well I do in undergrad, anyway - and there's no way I can tell what's going to happen.

While faith is something that I lack, yet aspire towards, is it really enough grounds to base a future on?

Would You Stay if She Promised You Heaven?

College tour: Day 2, University of Notre Dame

We arrived in South Bend, Indiana yesterday afternoon at around 3:00 or so. And I must say, flying for the first time in fourteen years was not pleasant by any means. We flew from Atlanta to Cincinnati, Ohio at around 11:45, then got on a smaller plane to get to South Bend at 2:00. The first flight was definitely the worst - I now know how weak of a physical tolerance I have :/ But the second flight wasn't as bad, since it was shorter and didn't need to reach a very high altitude in order to get to the next state.

After we settled in and had dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant across the street from the hotel, we walked down to the Notre Dame campus to get a feel of it on our own. The landscape there is BEAUTIFUL. Everything is so well taken care of. Notable things we saw at first walkthrough were: the Grotto, which is a small cave-like shrine to the Virgin Mary that people can go to and light candles for good vibes or to pray the rosary, etc. A statue of Jesus with his arms outstretched that had the phrase "Venite ad me omnes" (Come unto me all ye who are weary) engraved underneath it. Behind him and to his sides were weeds and dark, morbid-looking plants, but under the span of his arms is a spread of bright, blooming tulips. And, of course, the Golden Dome, which is the main building, but earned its nickname for the giant gilded gold dome on top.

Today we woke up early and had breakfast, then went back to campus for our official tour. First, we stopped by the Grotto and lit candles; mostly for fun, since neither my parents nor I are actually very religious at all. Then, we went to the Dome to meet our groups. I chose the tour guide Hannah, a senior at Notre Dame who majored in biology and is going to the University of Chicago for medical school in the fall (side note: she also got into UPenn Med). The first thing she told us was that the Golden Dome is gilded in real 23 karat gold, which is redone every year so always looks perfect. They use about a fist full of gold and hammer it until its paper thin, then cover the dome. And apparently, they take a little bit of the old gold and put flecks in the seal of your diploma when you graduate so that you can take a little piece of the dome with you when you leave.

Other notable things we saw/learned today include: Hannah told us that the Jesus statue I mentioned before is nicknamed "Jump, Mom, I'll catch you!" because there's a statue of the Virgin Mary on top of the Golden Dome, and Jesus has his arms outstretched - you get the picture. I thought it was cute. We also went through the library; the reading area is called "the fishbowl" because it's surrounded by glass and people in the lobby can stare at you if they want. On the back of the library is a huge mural of Jesus with his arms over his head. Ironically, this is directly across from the stadium, and so the mural is nicknamed "Touchdown Jesus". Also, the library is what the castle in Shrek was modeled after! Apparently, the script of Shrek was written by two Notre Dame graduates, who put a whole bunch of inside jokes about the campus in it. For example, Shrek is actually modeled after one of the science professors who is Scottish and has a thick accent, and King Farquad was named after one of the residential halls, which is nicknamed the Far Quad because it's pretty much on the other side of a lake. Oh, and the new science building cost over 70 million dollars!

Tomorrow, unfortunately, is another double flight. We leave South Bend around 8am and fly to Detroit, Michigan, then get on a connecting flight to Cleveland, Ohio. Apparently it was cheaper to fly around Ohio instead of going straight there. Then on Monday we'll go to Case Western. More on that to come.

You're Not That Bright Now...But You Will Be, Someday Soon

I think I should start a running tally of all the things that make me genuinely happy no matter what:

1) Disney movies. For a variety of reasons (some of which are more cynical than light-hearted. But we'll have this talk some other time). SIDE NOTE: The Princess and the Frog was the very best thing ever. And I mean that. No cynicism involved.

2) Weddings. I'm not even kidding.

In all honesty, the past ten months or so have been pretty rough. Maybe even a little bit before that. It's just been a nonstop stress-filled trip, basically. Almost like the future decided to rush me to see if I could take it.

Like I said before, going away to college has always been part of the grand plan - and it's always felt like if the plan didn't work out, it must mean that I failed at something, somewhere along the way. Well, four or five rejection letters in a row are staring that plan down at this moment. Anyway, let's just say this past week or so hasn't been the greatest.

However, today, we received the highly anticipated wedding invitation from Sharon, the second oldest daughter of our longtime family friend. I read every word, and broke into an uncontrollable smile (yes, I do realize this makes me unreasonably sentimental).

Later, I realized: That invitation meant more to me than any college acceptance letter could have. Because it means something more than getting into a designer label school, or appeasing my parents - or meeting someone else's requirements for happiness.

I think William Faulkner had it all figured out.


In other college news, (which is mainly why I started this blog - to talk about college stuff):
My financial aid offer came in from Tulane today (about an hour before we got Sharon's wedding invitation, actually). Basically, they'll give me about $39,100 total. $8,500 in loans from the school, $3,000 in exchange for me taking a part-time job there, $20,000 as my original scholarship offer upon acceptance, and an extra $7,600 thrown in as a gift for good measure. In the end, my family would have to come up with about $15,000 a year, not including paying back the loans (you can do the math).

Basically, college doesn't come cheap. Although my dad so eloquently described it yesterday, "All the scholarships and discounts and numbers - it's not real money". Which makes sense when you think about it.
Sadly, however, the less fake money you're offered, the more real money you've got to hand over.

Life Has Meaning Only in the Struggle

For some reason, I've spent the past six months or so doing everything I could to conceal a fact - that I'm scared to death about everything that deals with college. In all fairness, I didn't realize it until recently. I think I've always felt it - but I've been so excited about all of this change that I didn't acknowledge the fact that I waited until the last minute to finish application essays, and i put away letters asking for admission decisions, and I ignore emails about visiting, and I left financial aid applications to my parents.
Maybe if I admit it, I can defeat it.

In all seriousness, I have always been in love with the idea of living somewhere different. Ever since I can remember, I've wanted to go somewhere other than Auburn. The city's always been too small, or too quiet, or too boring, or too safe. As an only child, I spend a lot of time alone, which gives me time to think - time to be restless. Going away to college was just something that was part of my plan. I never thought about what it would take for it to be possible - it was just part of the plan.

Then senior year came around, and things started to become real. Old teachers and parents of friends (never my own, though) would look at me, smile and shake their heads incredulously, and say "Man. I can't believe you're graduating already". And until recently, I didn't believe it either. Until about three hours ago.

As most eligible seniors know, the financial aid deadline (FAFSA, CSS forms, etc.) is in about two days. And because of my aversion to anything bigger than myself, I have let this fall to my parents without question. But when our accountant wasn't able to get us our tax return forms until today, I thought I'd try to lessen my parent's paperwork by filling out as much of it as I could. At this point, only four things are certain:
1) I owe a good portion of my soul to Auburn University for their generous scholarship offer. Scholarship = no financial aid needed = no paperwork = :)
2) I know close to nothing about my parent's finances. And/or my own.
3) I sat down at this computer three hours ago with the full intention of watching Sex and the City reruns on hulu.com.
4) WHY DID I APPLY TO THIS MANY UNIVERSITIES?

And this is where reality rears its ugly head.
Looks like ignorance isn't going to cut it any more.