I think my brain has been thought-out. It’s processed so much information and absorbed so many visuals over the past three days it just can’t take any more. A nap might be the best remedy, but before I have the luxury of doing that, I’d like to share with you the cause of my Sunday sleepiness.

Fall Break

No, I didn’t go home like most of the campus (I did last year. Homecoming through the eyes of a college student: never again). Instead, I shared an exciting weekend with my mom, as we explored the sights of Mount Vernon and two art museums.

It all began with an insanely relaxing Thursday afternoon of painting

and watching Miss Marple: At Bertram’s Hotel (I’m a sucker for mysteries and British accents). After my mom arrived, we had dinner (fresh from the Trenton Farmer’s Market!) and Skyped my sister, who gave us the down low her kids’ Halloween costumes: a pirate and Yoda.

Of course, you can’t spend time with your parents on campus and not go to Miss Shirley’s for breakfast. This was my second time going, and I highly recommend the Cinnamon Roll French Toast! Combine their food with 60s/70s music, and you’ve got the makings of a wonderful day.

I know I said “art museums” and “exciting” in the same sentence, and many of you are probably shaking your heads in skepticism. But let me say this: The Walter’s Art Museum is not your typical art museum. Yes, they have large rooms filled with giant portraits of Europe’s nobility, countless paintings of martyred saints, and a very nice selection of 19th century landscapes, but they also have the “Chamber of Wonders.” Here resides everything from a mounted crocodile to delicately inlayed chests. Or

or

or

Nobody expects the Spanish inquisition!

And, OK, fine, I admit it, I had to go there for my art history class, so it wasn’t out of pure intellectual curiosity that I gazed at art for four hours.

However, whether or not you go for fun, the Walter’s is a really cool museum. It’s also in the Mount Vernon neighborhood, which is home to some of the best restaurants in Baltimore and the first monument to George Washington.

After discovering the not-quite-so-young-grasshopper, we walked over to Sascha’s 527 Cafe and had a refreshing dinner of crab cakes (another Maryland must have).

You’d think that I’d had enough of walking around, but no. My Italian class brought me to the Baltimore Museum of Art which is right by Johns Hopkins University, and easy to access via the Collegetown Shuttle.

Even though several of their galleries were closed for renovation, I still got to see some beautiful art.

There’s a sculpture garden by the museum, but modern art isn’t really my thing, so I took pictures of the flowers instead:

Although it was still fairly sunny, the temperature had definitely dropped by the time I got home, so I decided to make a stick-to-your-ribs Tex-Mex macaroni dinner. My sister gave me a book of pasta recipes, and I had yet to try one, so I took the advantage of the calm Saturday evening to make this:

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why my eyes are so tired and my brain is so sore. It was so much fun, but *yawn* I think it’s time to heed the calls of my warm bed.

Possibly one of the most gratifying and terrifying experiences in college is handing in your Declaration of Major paperwork.

See, deciding what you’re going to do for the next two and a half years doesn’t just mean choosing courses. It also means studying abroad, internships, and how to make yourself wanted, no, needed, by employers.

But let’s forget that super scary stuff and focus on the tantalizing idea of leaving the country. I have a map on my wall (you may have seen it, but not in detail) of all the places I’ve been and all the places I want to go.

Focusing on Europe Yellow - States Traveled; Red - Countries Traveled; Blue/Green - Unexplored

As you can see, there are quite a few places I want to visit. I read about them in history books, hear about them on Rick Steve’s Travels in Europe, and see them in National Geographic Magazine. I don’t just want to visit, or spend a whirlwind 10 days driving across a country. I really want to absorb the culture: meet the locals, find the forgotten nooks and crannies, connect with the landscape, eat new foods, and just experience life in a different place.

There’s just so much you can learn from people with different experiences from your own.
So without further ado, I will share with you my hopes and daydreams of the inexperienced.

(All photos from this point onward are courtesy of National Geographic and their wonderful photographers)

Iceland

Eyjafjallajokull Volcano

Because who wouldn’t want to combine insane heat with insane cold? But really, it’s beautiful there.

England – London: Home of Shakespeare, Sherlock Holmes, and so many more inspirational people.

Norway

Kongsvinger Forest, bit of a hike from Oslo

This is the perfect combination of the Forbidden Forest and Mirkwood. It looks more friendly though!

France – Paris: The Louvre + Art Student = Happiness

Kazahkstan

Astana

I picked up an NG magazine in the dentist’s office once and bright colors bombarded my eyes, so of course I had to learn more about it. Apparently this is their new capital, very shiny.

Greece – Thessaloniki: Have I mentioned how much I like lamb and baklava?

Morocco

Casablanca, Hasan II Mosque

Yes, I love the movie. But the culture is so colorful I’d have to stay a week to absorb it all.

Denmark – Kronborg Castle: I’m a huge history/lit enthusiast. So if I’m given the opportunity to visit the castle where Hamlet was set, you can bet I’ll be psyched.

Finland

By Muoino

That. I want to see that. Stars and light and space. All open. For everyone.

New Zealand - I think I’d have to go all over the island because 1) It’s gorgeous, and 2) Lord of the Rings was filmed all over.

Egypt

Luxor

I’m not a huge hot weather person, but seeing those temples and pyramids would be fantastic. To have something towering over you that is so ancient and strong is spectacular.

Scotland – Edinburgh: There are seven (seven!!!) art fests in the summer and just think of all the fresh wool!

Turkey

Istanbul

So maybe I just want to go so I can sing this song by They Might Be Giants. Just kidding!

Australia – I’d have to see Melbourne, but koalas, kangaroos, penguins, and red rocks are at the top of the must-see list.

Madagascar

Avenue of the Boababs

Between The Little Prince and Zaboomafoo memories of my childhood, I’d say seeing this island beats the Bahamas.

Ireland - ALL OVER.

It’s weird how I say the least about the place I want to go to most. If I could only go to one country on this list (and there are more pins on the map than countries listed), it would be Ireland. I’ll save my reasoning for my Study Abroad application, I don’t want to give them any spoilers!

What is self authenticity?
How are you real?
What makes you know that you are who you say you are?
How do you hold yourself accountable for your self-awareness?

These are some of the questions that came to my mind after having a (really cool, amazing, thought-provoking, awesome, attention grabbing, real) conversation with some new friends about stereotypes at Loyola and how they affect the culture at school.

Before you close the window because answering these questions is scary, (heck, asking these questions is scary), hear me out. Let me try to answer them in my own way:

Self-authenticity is not being fake. How do I know I’m not fake? I can look in the mirror and say with good conscience that I am happy with the person staring back (most days, I’m not perfect). I can look at myself and accept the physical, mental and emotional stuff that makes up a human body, a human soul.

I know who I am because I think about who I want to be. Part of realizing who you are comes from learning about what you aren’t. It’s kind of like process of elimination, but on a much larger, positive personality-oriented scale.

I know I’m not the only one who knows who I am. My friends, professors, fellow students, family, and my lovely readers, know who, what, how, and even why I am. They hold me accountable for my representation of myself.

At this point you can argue that the term “representation” is relative. That there are parts of you that you have to keep separate from certain environments. That History Class Rory is different from Art Class Rory is different from Alpha Aide Rory is different from Knitting Teacher Rory is different from Roommate Rory is different from Home Rory is different from Talking To Professor Rory.

No.

I like to think that while I may adopt a different tone or be required to wear different clothing for certain situations, I am still seen as the same person at any time.

Even if it means that I trip over myself, wear kooky earrings, dance awkwardly from sheer happiness, laugh uproariously, staunchly defend my views, stay in on weekends, not do well on a test, cry over fictional characters, and most of all be content with my decisions (right down to eating a fourth cookie).

The oddities are what make me unique. The imperfections that I sometimes wish I could ignore make me real.

One of the problems of going to a school that places emphasis on students who are the ideal is that those who don’t quite make it get ignored. Even worse, those who are on the opposite side of the spectrum feel even more alienated. The blind rationalization of stereotypes perpetuates a negative social culture on campus. Boxing people into definitions is “safe,” it means that we don’t have to give people time to get to know them, to make them feel valued. But isn’t being valued what this is all about? “Cura Personalis” “Care for the Whole Person.” How can we care for others if we don’t even care for ourselves?

I know, I know, these are really big issues. You probably wish I’d go back to talking about apples and art. But this is what I’m thinking about and I’m supposed to write about what I think.

So:

The word of the day is Authenticity. Use it in a sentence. Use it in your life.

Know it, accept it, learn it, be it.

Shuffle shuffle fwoomp, ugh, sweater hair, straighten. Slip tie, slip tie, up we go. Shrug shr-, oh drat arm’s stuck; I’ll have to repair that sleeve hole, -ug, straighten, slip button slip button. Hoist, grunt, mmf, shift, check jacket collar, earbuds in, pull the handle, step, step, Step…
Stairs!
Step…
Step…
Push, check reflection in windows, push, step step and
Woah.

It’s overpowering. Crisp air, gray sky, fresh leaves, slight breeze, chilly fingers, stinging eyes.

It’s autumn.

If you ask me what my favorite smell is I wouldn’t be able to give you a direct answer. I would debate and question myself indeterminately for hours and it would still be tied between woodsmoke, old books, freshly fallen leaves, and sautéed onions.

Right now two out of four infiltrate my nostrils as I walk to classes and a third will be served with tonight’s dinner. As I sit writing this at my dining room table, steam rises from the air vent outside, hits my window, and makes visible waves of moisture, reminding me of Jack Frost’s fingers on a snowy window pane. It’s getting me excited for November.

I can’t wait for the crunch of leaves underfoot, the wooly happiness of snuggling into a scarf, the smell of hot apple cider, the

Oh. Wait. Cider.

Just thinking of it makes my mouth water and transports me back to second grade, staring at the giant wall of trees in the state park at home. My Girl Scout troop is tramping through the dew covered leaves, wiping away at bleary Saturday morning eyes and hungrily looking ahead to the trail-mix in our leader’s backpack. Orienteering always meant an energy-zapping morning followed by hot cider stored in thermoses, PB&J sandwiches, and the previously mentioned trail mix. I’m pretty sure there was an early bedtime when I got home.

But that cider.

Sweet, spiced, and simple, the piping hot drink will always make me happy, no matter how busy or stressed I am.

I usually don’t get homesick, but right now I have to admit that I kind of miss the fall rituals from home. Even though I’ve outgrown some of them, it’s still nice to look back and bask in the memory of reading Harry Potter with my dad after a bike ride on the canal path, or frantically looking for a tissue after coming inside from raking leaves in the chilly October air.

Yeah, I’m definitely missing the pumpkin carving and corn mazes right now.

If I’m this psyched over fall, I hate to think about how I’ll be come December.

Don’t get me started on freshly chopped pine trees.

As soon as he said “Breathe in slowly and exhale, feel your muscles relax. Breathe in and let the stress flow away from your body,” I knew that as Friday wrapped up a wonderful weekend would begin.

I was not wrong.

You might be wondering why on earth I’d be psyched about a little meditation, but trust me, after the week I had, I was really happy the Student Leadership Corps focused on stress and time management in our weekly session.

Taking time to unwind is crucial at school; I know I sound like one of those info sessions everyone gets dragged to in high school, but it’s true. I’m usually wound up really tight (both physically and mentally) so having an evening to hang out with friends, while partaking in not quite “conventional” entertainment for 19 year olds, is really appreciated.

What might this unconventional entertainment be?

Build-A-Bear

My friend turned 19 last week, so she requested we go to Build-A-Bear as celebration of this momentous event. My roommates and I met her on the East side of campus, where I noticed the trees were changing and got really distracted by the beautiful colors:

After a brief ride to the mall, we embarked on our journey to make new furry friends (Hey, I’m just quoting their website).

And yes, we did do the little dance/embarrassing series of hops and hand motions to ensure our bears had hearts full of love. No shame.

Here is Dr. Hiddles Holmes, one of the newest members of my room’s family.

After eating the obligatory food court dinner and meandering through some shops, we headed home and (literally) chased down a shuttle to take us back to our dorm.

Some hours of sleep later found me yet again taking an early morning stroll to the art studio (I’m amazed my roommate hasn’t thrown a pillow at me yet for waking up at 6 on the weekends).

As much as I love art, I wanted to get back to my room so we could decorate for Halloween. See, my mom sends me care packages labeled with “Do Not Open Till” leading up to various holidays (including International Talk Like a Pirate Day) so my roommates and I were pretty excited when we opened the box full of fall decorations.

Don’t worry, the festive atmosphere didn’t go unseen by others! Students from the Alpha  Theology class I’m an Aide for came over for spaghetti dinner that night. Apparently our room has a very homey atmosphere, but is very clearly “young adult” oriented (Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory stares me down when I walk out my bedroom).

All in all it was a pretty good weekend. Jam packed, but totally worth it. I live for those moments that seem to span an entire day when it’s only been a few hours. Sadly, those days are the most tiring, and right now it’s coming back to bite me.

Maybe I’ll put those relaxing exercises to work later this evening….

Loyola administrators are smart. At least, whoever decides when to have breaks and special weekends is. It’s like they’ve figured out a formula to keep students at a tug of war with their parents over college’s newfound freedom.

Think about it this way:
Week of Fun Without Major Homework + Week of Intro Activities + Week of First Club Meetings & More Homework + Week of First Papers & Exams = Perfect Build Up to Family Weekend.

By the time 4 weeks has gone by, most students want a little bit of “home” back in their lives.

And then by Sunday they want their Loyola back.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but I also love my independence. This school is so much like a home to me I don’t always need the reassurance of my parental units to know there’s someone who cares about my existence. But it was still nice to spend the weekend with them, even if it was a short visit.

*Insert cheesy but heartfelt call out to Mom and Dad here*

For those of you who are wondering what this whole Family Weekend thing is about, I’ll give you the low down:

It begins on Friday with the Honors Convocation, during which all the students who received academic achievement awards, summer programs, or are in an honor society, are recognized. The first years who are in the Honors Program or received academic scholarships are also recognized. Of course, before the awards are given out, there are speeches and one of the faculty is honored for “outstanding achievement in scholarship or creative work,” (The Nachbahr Award).

The rest of the weekend passes in a blur of sports games, food (provided by the university and your parents’ ability to drive you to the Inner Harbor), a “big” event on Saturday night, and mass on Sunday (always packed).

The school keeps everyone busy, even if families don’t attend every event.
For example, I spent my Saturday morning drawing

and enjoying the quad with my parents

before working on homework while they chilled out in my common room.

We also went out to the Towson Mall; I needed some more “mature” clothing.
(I’m really more of a t-shirt & jeans girl, and have recently found myself lacking in the
“job interview” and “nice occasions” clothes department)

After asking my dad if there was an equation to determine the yield of clothes purchased from clothes chosen (in vain), we decided it was time to eat dinner.

Little did we know of the fates that awaited us at P. F. Chang’s.

It sounds crazy, but I’m pretty sure the fortune cookie writers have had workshops and focus groups to determine which phrases resonate most with customers, because my own and my parents’ fortunes were eerily relevant or accurate to our lifestyles.

Mine: Keep your feet on the ground even though friends flatter you.
My mom’s: Learning is a treasure which accompanies us everywhere.
My dad’s: Patience is a key to joy.

How could I apply these indispensable pieces of wisdom to my life?

Patience is truly the key to completing homework, as I try to reassure myself that my History paper is a treasure, and in the end a joyful experience when my professor will (hopefully) flatter me with a good grade.

Maybe fortune cookies and parents teach you more than you expect after all.

Remember how I wrote about my fun, book filled Sunday afternoon?
Well, I’m happy I enjoyed it while I could.
Because then Monday came and I went from

to

I know I’ve put a very happy, chill kind of spin on Loyola so far, but everyone has a “crazy day.” Or week. Or month. Or semester. Sometimes it gets hard to handle and I wonder Why On Earth Did I Sign Up To Do So Much Stuff.

Just as I convince myself that there are never enough hours in a day to do everything, some little bit of happiness comes my way and makes the stress more bearable.

This week, it came in the form of an engineering professor.

It’s strange that a faculty member who is on the opposite side of the education spectrum from my major would influence my life, so maybe I should give a little back story about our acquaintance.

Fact #1 About My Study Habits: They aren’t normal.

I hate working at my desk. In fact, I hate working in places that are designated for studious application. I avoid the library like the plague (mainly because it’s on the opposite side of campus) and I have never been to The Study (but I hear it looks like Hogwarts). Instead, I find cozy places on campus to do my work.

In my first semester I discovered the huge armchairs on the second floor of Humanities – perfect for propping up a laptop, sorting articles, and writing papers on the large armrests.

The Reading Room became my weekend sanctuary as I ploughed through comp/sci projects, Theology readings, and accidental naps in the poufy reclining chairs.

My second semester led me to the basement of Donnelly Science Center where I wrote Lit analyses and ate lunch before I walked over to Knott Hall for a math class.

My study spaces always change, but they all have one thing in common: it’s relatively quiet, they’re near my classes, and I can separate my work life from my home life.

Thing is, I didn’t realize how quickly people could consider you a permanent installment in their environment.

After a few weeks of doing homework in Donnelly, I got used to seeing certain professors pass by; they got used to me sitting there. One day, they came up and talked to me, learned I wasn’t an engineering major, still offered the use of the engineering lounge for studying, and ever since have always said hello.

Normally interaction between departments, especially that of the sciences and humanities, is fairly limited at college. But not here.

Definitely not here.

One of these professors saw me on campus during the first week and asked if I would still be studying in Donnelly. I wasn’t sure if my classes would bring me there, but they have, and now I’m back in my “office” as he jokingly put it.

On Monday he said I should feel free to bring a desk lamp.

To him, I’m not some transient student who is one out of two hundred in a lecture hall. I have a name, a face, habits, and am truly recognized as a human being.

Having really busy, crazy days is part of life, but having someone who cares even in a small way makes it worthwhile.

What’s your idea of the perfect day?

(A partial answer will be revealed shortly)

This is a slight alteration to the question my Philosophy professor asked in class last week: What criteria do we require for a perfect class?

You’d be surprised how many things we came up with, and how many of them we’d take as a given. For instance, you’d think it’d be easy to get perfect attendance or be in a good environment, but in a class of 28 someone is bound to get sick and the basement of Beatty Hall is overheated. Some of the more interesting answers ran along the intellectual line: participation, open minds, enthusiasm (both of the teacher and students), and incentive. However, the final requirement my professor listed kind of stuck with me this weekend: When class is over, you want it to continue.

How many students can say they’ve been in a class they wished wouldn’t end?

Well, I have, but only twice.

But that isn’t the point of this little story, we can discuss the American education system at another time (haha).

What I’m trying to get at is this: We all value our weekends: the time to kick back and procrastinate about papers while we hang out with friends and laugh so hard our stomachs hurt. But how often have we had a weekend that we want to continue, to extend for just a few hours longer not because we want to avoid the week ahead, but because we love the moment in which we are living?

This is why I decided to take a little escapade to Barnes & Nobles.

I powered through my homework on Friday night (still life for art) and Saturday (readings readings and more readings) so that on Sunday I could sleep in and hit the fun books.

By fun books I mean A Clash of Kings by George R R Martin (who, incidentally, was on Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me! last week). I really like fantasy books, especially ones that pull you into a completely different world and you can lose yourself in for hours.

While I was reading, I met a volunteer for Barack Obama’s campaign here in Baltimore. She was really nice and we had a brief chat about the election (she got to meet Michelle and hear her speech at Morgan State!). Of course, at some point I had to catch the Collegetown Shuttle back home, so here I sit writing and watching the Emmys (I believe in Sherlock!) as my roommate makes baked ziti for dinner.

I really wish I had a bit more time to chill out this weekend. Another day to enjoy the crisp autumn weather, a few more hours to read for fun, a few more moments to meet new people.

Maybe the James Taylor and Allman Brothers Band CDs I bought can brighten my walks across campus. My new soundtrack for the fall!

This is going to sound ridiculous, especially coming from a college student, but it’s one of those things that will stay with you for a while (I can’t guarantee forever).

Wake up with the sun and walk around campus.

Bring an apple. Wear a jacket. Put on some shades (especially if you’re walking from Campion/Newman, you’ll be heading directly east). Listen to morning music (Fleet Foxes and Simon & Garfunkel are my preference).

I know what you’re thinking. What sane twenty-something gets up early to take a walk?

Confession: it wasn’t by choice that I discovered the calmness of campus at 7:30 AM.
I’m taking a life drawing class this semester which requires a lot of work: every week for homework we cover a new body part or bone structure and have reading assignments (open discussion during breaks in class), along with working from a model during the weekly class time. This week I had to draw the ribcage and pelvis from the front and side, so I got up super early to work in studio.

Last semester I had gotten up early for 8ams, but other people were walking around so the campus was populated, but very sleepy looking.

On the weekend though? Empty. Dead silent. Peaceful. Beautiful. Bright. Content.
It’s kind of rare to see Loyola like that, so empty yet so alive at the same time. The sun washes everything with a bright, golden light that practically makes the building glow. If you’re lucky, you’ll see some trees changing color.

The sunrise is so obvious but so often overlooked.

I’m asking a lot, I know. I really didn’t want to get up early (or at all) this weekend, but homework had to be done. I hear your groans and imagine your hands thrown up in disgust at the notion of rolling out of bed before noon on a Saturday.

But you should still do it. At least once.

So take a bite out of that apple, adjust your sunglasses, straighten your jacket, walk to the beat of your favorite band and soak up the morning sun.

Then take a nap in the afternoon.

When I started blogging I was told “Write the way you talk. Have a conversation with your readers.” When I sat down to write, my brain filled with cliches of introductions and I stared at a blank screen for a very long time. And then I stared at my wall, which is far from blank.

Some college dorms are decorated so they look like they came out of a Pottery Barn ad. Others bear resemblance to an insane asylum with white walls and overly bright light fixtures. There are a lot in between, but it’s safe to say that my wall is a fairly accurate depiction of myself: my interests, humor, loves, hopes, and eccentricities.

Which is why I have come to the conclusion that maybe by explaining my wall I can describe myself to you lovely readers.

And so it begins.

The first thing you’ll notice on my wall are all the art postcards. I’m (probably) a double major in English and Fine Arts, with a minor in Entrepreneurship. I really enjoy beautiful things, from sunsets to sautéed chicken, or violets to Van Gogh.

After you get over the 100+ postcards interspersed on my wall, you’ll notice 4 large posters. The first is an illuminated copy of “The Tyger” by William Blake I made in high school (I like writing poetry, not just reading it!). I grew up on the West coast of New Jersey in a very small town and went to a medium sized high school that strongly encouraged the arts and reading (my first love). But before that I was homeschooled for 6 years, which included the watching of PBS as part of school, taking history tours of the cities my parents visited, and going to a lot of science museums (along with normal schoolwork).

Of course, you can’t watch PBS for years and not see some late-night Monty Python or go to museums and avoid the dinosaur exhibit. Which is why I have “The Ministry of Silly Walks” and “Dinosaurs of Distinction: Pittsburgh” posters. The fourth and final large poster is of the TV show Doctor Who, one of my favorite productions of the BBC. If you like British accents, ridiculous plot twists that defy the laws of physics, and traveling through time and space, you should watch it.

The rest of my wall is made up of smaller posters, like The Beatles, Extreme Ironing, and some of my friends’ and my own art work. I also keep a map on the wall covered in pins of where I’ve been and where I want to go.

Are you feeling overwhelmed?

I know it seems like a lot to have on a wall, something that is usually taken for granted as simply a building’s structure. But my wall is an extension of myself. Its bright colors and memories held up by thumbtacks make me smile after a long day of classes or an evening meeting of Philosophy or Knitting Club.

No matter how busy and stressed I get, I know I always have a place to call home. My room and my roommates are part of that, as is the Loyola community as a whole. Speaking of which, I have some homework to finish up before I watch 500 Days of Summer with my friends.

I know I haven’t told you as much as you might want to know, but there are many more posts to come!