The Ithacan't

Ithacan’t's list of fads you wish you never took part in!

ithacant — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 04:30:50 +0000

back-up link:

http://www.dipity.com/kqdavidson7/personal

Paradise Lost

gwald — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 15:31:13 +0000

It’s December once again, the holiday season is now in full swing, but for college students, there is a sour taste to our cup of cheer. Like the sound of an approaching one-horse open sleigh, the unavoidable, approaching finals continue to ring throughout our minds. During this time, things get awfully stressful. Coffee sales go through the roof, and beds are visited less frequently and the library is practically turning students away at the door. With everything we must endure during this crunch time, there is but one haven for the stressed and the restless called, the Destress Fest. I have heard wonderful things about this magical place in Friends Hall and have always wanted to go. Planning my day accordingly so I have time to visit this place of tranquility, I realize suddenly that I cannot make it to destress fest, for I have a final exam at that exact time. I could feel my brain explode into a million pieces inside my head as my one hope of staying sane through finals is yanked away from me and in its place, the one thing it was supposed to save me from. What a tease. I guess its back to La Vinceta for another cup o’ joe.

A valiant effort

gwald — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 15:22:24 +0000

With Thanksgiving break almost here, I look around my seat in the library and realize that it is particularly more crowded than usual. My friend Jen sits down at my table and peers into my laptop screening the sea of black strings of words that make up my soo-to-be 8-page paper due first thing monday after Thanksgiving break. “I haven’t even started.” she admits to me. When I asked her why that was (since this was thursday before break) she simply told me about her extravagant plan to get everything she needs to get done over break. Fat chance, I think to myself. We are only kidding ourselves if we think that we will pass up quality time with our big screen TV’s on our favorite couch at home, or partying it up high school-style with your hometown bests. And who would want to? Locking yourself up in your rug cross-legged with an open textbook on your left, a notebook on your right, and a perfectly polished paper on the laptop screen in front of you. I must say, that if you even have this thought in your head, please find the nearest wall and with both hands drive your skull against it until you realize this is only a fairy tale. For those that think studying will get done over break are even more thick than the paper-writers. Even if you do manage to remember to take your books home, and if my some miracle you ended up actually removing it from your bag and open it, the chances that you will absorb anything while searching the contents is impossible, as your mind will be too blown away by the fact that you even made it this far. So for all the Jen’s out there who want to save everything for break, confidently stating that it will all get done, I want you to listen closely… Did you hear that? The sound of hell freezing over.

Thanksgiving with the Waldvogels

gwald — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 15:09:10 +0000

It is tradition in my German family that a thanksgiving dinner is not a thanksgiving dinner unless everybody with a hint of the bloodline is cramped around the same table elbow to elbow with generations of loud, jolly Waldvogels. All 34 (and a half including my 18 month old cousin, Nate) of us gather from all corners of the country to commence in a traditional holiday feast stuffing ourselves utterly to the brim with delectable provisions skillfully crafted by the team of moms and grandmas with years of experience in this sort of thing. As I sit at the far end of the table with the rest of the younger generation, my eyes roll down the line of faces and plates of food and platters and sparkling silverware, wine glasses, cloth napkins, and a single thought creeps into my heart. It is not quite a happiness or a thankfulness that we are all together and healthy and blah blah blah, but rather a lurch in my chest. A pang in my heart that pulls me from my present 2009 days and transforms me back into the 1950′s as I suddenly remember who is expected to clean up once all the plump, red-faced Bavarians have had their turkey fix. Me. The young females of the family. As the older men start pealing away from the banquet and head to the couch for their triptophan-induced comas, the mothers and grandmothers quietly remove themselves from the dining room and proceed into the living room where they share stories of their children and reminisce on their own youth. The younger males head to the basement to watch football, and all that is left are four teenage girls expected to take on 34 (and a half) dinner plates, wine glasses, forks, knives, soup spoons, hors d’oeuvre plates, soup bowls etc. Every year unsuccessfully, we plead with the elders to break the sexist trend and forgo gender role-playing and let the young men take over kitchen duty (since we, the females were also responsible for baking the dessert pies, pumpkin breads, cookies, setting the table, and helping the veteran thanksgiving expert cooks) without victory. We slave in the kitchen for nearly two hours rubbing our fingers raw, hand-washing every plate and spoon and bowl we were unable to cram into the dishwasher. The men in the mean time are oblivious in their dreamlands, or screaming at the football game. Will things ever change? The future looks grim.

Have yourself a merry little November

gwald — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 14:46:16 +0000

As Thanksgiving is approaching, there seems to be a new buzz around campus. No, I am not talking about the busy students tending to their final papers and projects and beginning to study for their finals, or the gleeful jabber over the holidays. I am talking about the perpetual overtones and boisterous, flamboyant holiday music that sticks in your head for days on end, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into your soul until you are transformed into a gingerbread-making, fuzzy sweater-wearing, holiday fiend. Yes, you all know what I am talking about. The overly merry and jingly tunes that sing of winter frivolities and lovers sharing a kiss under the mistletoe. There is nothing wrong with celebrating the holidays, but NOT on November 10th, for crying out loud. It isn’t even time to think about who is making the stuffing this year, and where you are going to put great aunt Patty, and her two yuppy poodles, but hey, at least you know Frosty is coming to town. As soon as Halloween is over, Christmas takes over. It is nice to build up to the holiday, but lets be honest here, there are only so many times you can hear about Grandma getting run over by a raindeer as you are clawing your way to that perfect oven-stuffer turkey. Every year the music is played earlier and earlier. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good healthy dose of holiday cheer, but as with everything in this country if we like something, we mass produce it. Now, even our holiday playlists are targets.

Friend of the Blog: Andrew Rogowski

ithacant — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 14:21:40 +0000

Ithacan’t Map of Places that Don’t Suck!

ithacant — Wed, 11 Nov 2009 15:49:14 +0000

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Job hunting

ithacant — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 02:39:46 +0000

I checked my bank account this week and found I have $32.34 to my name. I began to fantasize about ripping the facing from the ATM and dashing with as many dead presidents that would fit in my pockets. The receipt bearing the grim message has all the confidence in the world that I can get away with it. Instead I’m taking the leap and beginning to search for an on-campus job.

Will I find a decent job? Will I be smelling like tater tots for the remainder of my sophomore year? Only time will tell, readers, more after the jump.

Philly Phanatic Fun

ithacant — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 02:29:11 +0000

Admittedly, my group of friends are not the kindest group of kids on campus. Not that we dislike people, we’re just bored and value our own amusement more than the feelings of others, it’s a conscious decision. When sports and alcohol come into the equation things can go downhill fast, and they did.

A friend of mine, let’s call him “Daniel”, is a die hard Philadelphia Phillies fan. After watching the Phillies take game 5 of the World Series from my Yankees, Daniel was not satisfied to only rub the victory in my face, but took his celebration to the streets. When an unknown man felt brave enough to argue with him about how great he believes the Phillies are Daniel, didn’t get mad, instead he decided to share some of a popcorn care package his mom had sent him that very same day with his newly found rival. Though the mystery Yankees fan had never asked for any my friend offered the popcorn by way of throwing it at his head as he walked.

My friends, the concerned individuals we are, asked Daniel why he had to go so far out of his way to be cruel to this stranger. Daniel responded that the fan never asked him to stop, only silently regretted ever having said anything opposing the winning team. He learned a lesson that day, if you lose, stay quiet.

If you’re out there mystery popcorn Yankee fan, I’d like to apologize for the way things unfolded, Daniel will be bathed in popcorn once the Yankees take the series tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed readers.

Halloween

ithacant — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 00:10:14 +0000

In college, less is more for girls on Halloween. A proverbial ‘get out of jail free card’, Halloween provides an excuse to reveal those pieces of skin that are otherwise hid under layers of shame caused by social normalcy. The shackles of gender roles and shallow geniality are shattered as caution and clothing are thrown to the wind in a beautiful display of independence.

Or. Is the stripping of clothes a shallow ploy for attention, taken by those who may feel otherwise neglected?

An Argument as old as time, the decision to celebrate the human form is one that can never be won. Personally girls, I say the more power to you, wear what you please and let no one offer you dissenting comment. Though I can’t promise that guy staring at your butt is celebrating your independence.

Happy Halloween.