Thursday, February 11, 2010

Deliciously Ridiculous

I will start at the beginning. I live in a Fordham-owned, off-campus Integrated Service Learning Community. We call it the Anne Devenney house. There are four of us (all undergrads) plus an AMAZING residential director named Lindy. I came into this community not knowing anyone, as the youngest member, never having done service in the Bronx, and the result couldn't have been better. We ended up being the perfect mix of people who have kicked this community off with a bang.

That being said- today was anything but 'banging.' After a big breakfast, two of us stayed in PJs and proceeded to mope around the house. Kendall actually bothered to change and then moped. Maria gave a spiel about how, at some point, she needs to start her life and get dressed like a normal person. By seven we were all back on the couch, eating and watching Sandra Bullock be clumsy and fight crime. Snow days can rob even the best-intentioned of any and all motivation.

By midnight, Moira was eating tortilla chips out of her robe pocket (Maria didn't hesitate to point out that she looked uncannily like Fran Drescher's mother on The Nanny) and Maria was using nonsensical phrases like flabby-mouthed (she meant loose lips) and deliciously ridiculous (I didn't hesitate to point out that her language was quasi-erotic.) By 1 A.M., we were huddled in our small kitchen in laughing fits, trying to describe each other in three words (a strange task that countless applications require, including that of JVC) and pointing out the ways in which we are "effervescent," "confusing," and just plain nuts. At one point, I was bent over our sink with iced tea spewing out of my mouth and nose. Moira ended the evening with a reflective poem, entitled "Pasta in My Closet and Chips in My Pocket."

I have titled this blog "How to Love College," and I chose this title purposefully. In addition to wittily alluding to the song "I Love College," the title implies that this space is not just for me to ramble, reflect, write meaninglessly. Rather, it is a place for me to describe my entire college experience, both on and off campus. The Anne Devenney house has not just impacted but molded my Fordham education; its people, its mission of service and its integration with the Bronx have made college fulfilling and have exemplified the purpose of Fordham in a way that dorm-life could not. In a bold way, it has held me through my very first steps of learning to love college: embracing new people, embracing everything that is intentional community, embracing the Bronx. Even more important, though, it has taught me to revel in the small moments -college is only four years, so these are frequent, and important!- like when I find myself doubled over the kitchen sink laughing hysterically. And, as a result, I have grown to appreciate the phrase that encapsulates so much of what college is: deliciously ridiculous.

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