The Game of Life

My roommates and I were sitting in our living room talking the other day about board games. Of course, Life came up. Everyone loves that game and it seems at some point, everyone has cheated. At least when Holly and I played together and the time would come for Holly to pick the card that was going to be her job, I would make it obvious which card held her favorite job (or maybe her least favorite depending on how ornery I was feeling). Life was one of those games where it was just fun to play whether or not you won and were able to retire to the Presidential Estates. It's a very strange feeling becoming a "real" person who is actually supposed to contribute to society. While I've known this was coming all along, it's still really weird the first time you see one of your close friends in a wedding dress.
I know exactly what job I want and my opponent has made it very obvious what I have to do to get it (my opponent is very ornery and really likes bribes apparently). This med school application is a pain in the rear so I have created my own job. I am going to go to France and study the S.O.S. Medecin system where doctors still make house calls at night for minor ailments such as fevers and see if it could reduce congestion in the in America. It's brilliant! But I'm having a hard time finding someone who will pay me. Any takers? I'm cheap- just food, housing a plane ticket to Paris. No? Ah, it was worth a shot.

Hail to Old KU

I try to avoid these sappy ones, but I cannot help it this time. Grandma loves to tell the story about when my mom first had Holly, and Grandma, Morgan, and I went to visit them in the hospital. When we had to go, I threw a complete tantrum. Grandma, being the good grandma she is, took us to McDonald's to calm me down. All the way into McDonald's, I kept up my tantrum.

Twelve years ago, my family drove up to Lawrence to watch Debbie walk down the hill. As I was sitting in Memorial Stadium I decided that some day I would walk down that hill too. The problem was I tried to change my mind. My senior year of high school I could not decide which college to attend. Unfortunately, I had already decided years and years before and forgotten. When I decided on KU, it was a relief. Now KU is truly home.

There is a moment for everyone after they move up to Lawrence to start studying at KU, when they figure out what KU actually means. Mine came my freshman year when I was (of course) running. It was around 7 am during the first week of school when life was still a crazy blur. On Daisy Hill, a road runs down through campus between Ellsworth Hall and Hashinger Hall. When the sun rises, the top of that road gives the most breathtaking view of campus. On that morning when I first ran on campus, I knew that KU as home. Earlier this year, recruitment took me back to Daisy Hill on several early mornings and again, when I drove down that road, I knew that KU was home. Every moment in between those moments, I knew KU was home. There have been wins against K-State and MU at Allen Fieldhouse along with one (but only one) devastating loss, camping before games at 6 am, sorority formals and costume parties, sledding at midnight in 2 degree weather, snow days, hot days where the only thing to do is lie in the Chi Omega fountain, all-nighters with my friends studying for finals, marathons of movies and TV shows, long runs, trips around the world, a half marathon, an Orange Bowl, and of course, the National Championship (which still stands as the craziest night of my life!). All of these moments have meant the world to me. I'm sure I would have done just fine at any other university, but I would not have thrived the way I have at KU. I cannot say it enough: the best decision I have ever made was picking KU. I love KU and everything it has given me. My only hope is for everyone to have a time in their lives where they are as happy as I have been the past 4 years. I know I have not loved every single second of it (staying up until the wee hours of the morning finishing a paper isn't all that much fun!), but I would never give it up. Not for anything.

Back to the McDonald's story. The reason Grandma loves the story so much is because not only did I cry going into McDonald's, but I also cried when she said we had to leave. For the 20 odd minutes we were there, I was perfectly happy. It was just the coming and going that caused me to bawl hysterically. My mom will attest to the fact that the summer before I started KU, I had several wonderfully hysterical tantrums about the smallest things pertaining to KU: I wasn't on the correct floor of my residence hall, or I wasn't enrolled in the right classes. When it got down to it, I just didn't know if I was ready to leave home and go to KU. And now, I don't want to leave. It's McDonald's all over again: I went kicking and screaming into KU and I sure as heck am going to cry now that I'm leaving. I cannot say it enough, KU is home. ROCK CHALK