Michael Petersen

All the time in the world for not studying

knew things were getting stressful at school when my friend Brad announced that he was going to dye his hair purple. When he asked me to come along, I still needed to think of a topic for my Spanish composition so I definitely didn't have time to go with him. I went anyway.

So we hopped into his Jeep and took off looking for purple hair dye.

Brad's highly advanced GPS led us out to the middle of nowhere, and stopped us in front of a vacant lot, which it insisted was a hair salon. We continued searching for a while, but despite our best efforts we couldn't find it.

Naturally, as we returned to campus in bumper-to-bumper traffic in the pouring rain, traveling all of 15 miles an hour, we hydroplaned right into another car.

If you've never hydroplaned before, it's a surreal experience, although I'm not sure I'd recommend it.

Brad applied the brakes and the car just kept going. We had all the time in the world to brace for impact and make jokes about the fact that we weren't stopping. It was the longest car accident in history.

Eventually, with a "bam," we hit the other car. Thankfully, no damage was done and the other driver has yet to sue us.

Even better, now that I had been in a car crash I had something to write about for my Spanish composition. Coincidentally, we had just learned Spanish car vocabulary the day before, so in no time at all I was writing about how the "carro de Brad choco con otro carro en el freeway" (maybe now I can get this article to count for extra credit).

But even with my Spanish composition out of the way, I've still got an ungodly amount of work to do. You see, every once in a while I get cocky and start thinking that I'm far smarter than I actually am.

Take registration for example. I signed up for six classes instead of five. Big mistake. I've got papers to write, presentations to prepare, books to read and the Spanish language to learn; and that's only what's due tomorrow. And to top it all off, I have to write "The Freshman" every other week.

Finding time to do all of this work is difficult, particularly because I have so many other things I have to do. I go to class for hours almost every single day. In addition, colossal amounts of time and energy are wasted on things like eating and sleeping, two activities that, outside of survival, appear to have no real benefit.

More importantly, there are basketball games, pre-game parties, and events involving free food that I absolutely need to go to.

And living in a dorm doesn't help, either. The other night, my dorm mates desperately needed a fourth guy for a crucial game of Halo on the Xbox. I couldn't let them down, and so I played until 3 in the morning. I could have spent that time studying up on the effects of expressionism and realism in American theater, but instead I learned how to successfully repel an alien invasion of Earth.

However, I have made one incredible discovery that has helped me get through the semester so far: It's something called a library.

Yes, LMU actually has one of those ancient, book-filled precursors to the Internet, and it's completely filled with people dedicated to doing work. It's quiet. It's conducive to studying.

I was amazed to discover that, contrary to popular belief, the library actually does have some information that Wikipedia doesn't. And most importantly, the wireless Internet connection is so bad that I can't waste time even if I wanted to.

It really is a magical place, and without it I might have been forced to do something sensible, like drop a class.

But I still haven't had any desire to dye my hair purple, so I guess it isn't all that bad.

Freedom is nice, but it's not always filling

In almost every way, coming to LMU has given me more freedom and more independence.

I can do what I want, when I want. My mom never reminds me to study; my dad never tells me to take out the trash. I can stay up until 3 a.m. night after night, eat pizza at every meal and party with my friends whenever I want.

And my parents are none the wiser (at least until they read this column).

However, there's one glaring exception to this new found freedom: transportation. You see, I don't have a car and most of my LMU friends don't have cars, either.

In the past, this wasn't much of a problem. When I was still in high school, I didn't have much trouble getting around. I was an expert at convincing my parents that letting me use one of the cars was a matter of life or death. And if that failed, one of my friends was usually able to get their hands on a car using a similar approach.

Unfortunately, those friends are now scattered across the country, quite unable to give me rides, and my parents selfishly refuse to let me garage one of their cars here at LMU. They have some lame excuse about needing the cars to get to work so they can make money to pay for tuition or something.

Not having a car may seem like a worst-case scenario, end of the world situation, but I've recently made the astounding discovery that there are, in fact, other means of transportation.

Take my bike for example. I originally brought my bike to LMU for the sole purpose of helping me sleep more; riding my bike to class was 10 whole minutes faster than walking, which meant that every single morning I got to sleep in 10 minutes later.

As invaluable as this is, it would serve me even better as a means of getting around.

I didn't come to this revelation lightly; it was born of necessity. You see, "The Dark Knight" was re-released in IMAX at The Bridge theater, and it was absolutely imperative that my friends and I see it opening night. With no one to drive us, our only option was to bike there.

While seeing Batman in IMAX was a purely recreational reason to get off campus, there have been other times when leaving campus was critical to my survival.

One such time was the Martin Luther KingJr. birthday weekend, when almost all of the food places on campus were closed. The only place on campus with food at lunchtime was Iggy's, a small diner with a two-hour line of starving students. Surviving on on-campus food was difficult enough already; this made it pretty much impossible.

And so, I was forced to go off campus for food. Like the prehistoric hunter-gatherers I just learned about in my ancient history class, I had to travel far and wide in search of food.

This time, instead of my bike, I hopped on a bus and headed to a far off place where, according to legend, the food was always in abundance and the rivers of milk and honey never stopped flowing. I had friends who lived in this oasis of plenty, and I hoped they would take pity on me, the poor starved traveler that I was.

Two hours later, I arrived at this mythical place - the campus of UCLA - and was greeted by my friends. They took one look at my emaciated appearance and quickly rushed me to one of their dining halls and treated me to lunch.

The legends about the food were more than true. There was a never-ending buffet of everything I could ever want: pancakes, pizza, eggs, rice, bacon, ice cream, cake, milk and much more - all for the bargain price of just $9.

When I asked how it was possible that a dining hall this amazing could exist, my friends simply smiled and said, "tax dollars." For the first time in my life, I almost didn't mind what the state takes out of my paycheck each week. Almost.

In any case, fearing that this would be my last meal for days, I stuffed myself until the food threatened to come out my ears. My friends then had to roll me back to the bus stop for the two-hour ride home.

Fending for myself in this cruel, dark world is the unfortunate flip side of freedom and independence. Without mom and dad watching over my shoulder, I'm going to have to take these kinds of drastic survival steps once in a while. I will never again take for granted the full fridge of food at home.

And while I'm on that subject, attention mom: Is there any chance you could FedEx me some pumpkin muffins?

Christmas break flies by, and the search for `Utopia' begins

 

Posted: 01/18/2009

I had 30 days to relax and catch up with old friends. And I did.

A whole month of no school. It was like a dream come true.

I had 30 days to relax and catch up with old friends. And I did. I heard stories about endless snow at Rutgers, high-maintenance roommates at Boston, mouse attacks at Berkeley, underwear runs at UCLA, and countless others.

Living in my own house again was also a plus; in addition to getting homemade food and a shower with decent water pressure, I actually got to spend some time with my family.

My sister, who has gotten ahold of the old video camera, cast me as the villain in her movies. My brother Matthew kept me updated on everything sports- related, and somberly alerted me to every single LMU loss over the break.

I also got to assure my brother Andrew that getting to college was well worth sitting through the six-hour SAT, and used myself as a living example of the fact that it was very possible to get into college without actually understanding anything from high school calculus or biology.

Unfortunately, like first semester before it, Christmas break flew by in the blink of an eye.

I was forced to accept the fact that my vacation was officially over when I found myself back in the college bookstore looking for books.

While this sounds like a fairly simple and mundane task, let me assure you, it is anything but.

The books kept on those shelves are dangerous. For starters, they cost a lot of money. And that's not even taking into account the future medical costs brought on by the damage done to my back. I've heard rumors that some of the more frightening textbooks, such as those sold to organic chemistry students, require that the buyer draft a will before purchase.

I had located all of my books but one: St. Thomas More's "Utopia." According to the bookstore inventory, they still had one used copy left. It was imperative that I find this last copy, because buying it used would save me $3.19, which would get me one microstep closer to being able to afford a car.

Just think, if I keep saving money at this rate, I should be able to afford a car by the time I turn 32.

Finally, the friendly bookstore lady I had enlisted in my search found it. My perilous search for textbooks was over. Now the real work of the semester could begin.

And this semester, I'll actually be doing that real work at a reasonable hour.

Last semester, if you can believe it, I voluntarily registered for 8a.m. and 9a.m. classes. I figured I would have no problem waking up that early since I'd done so every day for high school. Oh how naive I was. I know better now, so I've scheduled my first class at a more reasonable hour, like noon.

Even so, it was still too early when my alarm went off Monday morning. But I was back into the swing of LMU in no time.

By the second day, everything was back to normal: The history printer is printing in brown whenever we tell it to print in red, I'm already 387 pages behind in my reading, and I've eaten pizza for the past three meals.

All is as it should be.

A finals week fueled by caffeine, philosophy and Feliciano

Posted: 12/21/2008

So there I was, riding across campus as fast as I could. In my backpack was my friend Brad's final theology paper; he was counting on me to turn it in for him by 9 a.m. And it was already 8:50.

Brad would have turned it in himself, but his chemistry final started at 8, and he woke up at 8:10, so no way could he do both.

Now, this whole thing would have gone smoothly if it were just some other normal week. However, this was finals week, which meant that Brad and I were running on a combined 10 hours of sleep over the last two days.

And because of that, he never thought to tell me where to turn his paper in before he left for his chem final, and it never occurred to me to ask.

So there I was, racing across campus toward University Hall, hoping that his professor would be in the Theology Department, and also hoping that the Theology Department was actually located in University Hall.

And then, just as I found the professor's office - all closed up, of course - I got a text message from Brad: "Jesuit Community Center. Near the bluff to the right."

I didn't have time to wonder how on Earth Brad had access to his phone in the middle of his chemistry final; it was now 9:10 and I had to get back across to the other side of campus.

Three minutes later my mission was accomplished and Brad's grade was saved.

Naturally, the entire exercise was unnecessary because it turns out Brad's chemistry final actually started at 11. So he had plenty of time to turn it in himself.

Only during finals week do things like this happen. We have five huge tests to take in the span of a week - tests that often are the deciding factor in whether we pass the class.

Sometimes, a final paper is assigned in lieu of an exam. I've even heard horror stories of professors who have assigned both - a practice that I'm fairly certain was banned by the Geneva Convention.

As a result, we're all far too sleep-deprived and hyped up on caffeine to think and act rationally.

Take, for example, my decision to put off doing the final papers for my philosophy and English classes - both due Thursday - until the night before. If I were in a rational frame of mind, I never would have taken either of these classes to begin with.

And unfortunately, this philosophy paper proved to be more than I bargained for.

How can I, in my semiconscious state, be expected to understand what the philosopher Heidegger meant when he wrote: "What is the bringing-forth in which the fourfold way of occasioning plays? Occasioning has to do with the presencing of that which at any given time comes to appearance in bringing-forth" (Heidegger, "A Question Concerning Technology," p. 11).

That's hard enough to make sense of when you're awake and cognitive. But when you've barely slept and are running mostly on caffeine, it's darned near impossible. I mean come on, is presensing even a word?

But the scariest thing is, there came a point when I was so tired and so irrational that this guy actually started making sense - and I was able to write a whole seven pages about his ideas.

It turns out sleep deprivation comes in handy sometimes.

At one point during finals week, I didn't think I'd make it. I was halfway through my history final and the fatigue became overwhelming. Another few minutes and I'd be sound asleep, drooling all over my Blue Book.

And then providence stepped in. From far below me, on the ground floor of University Hall, I heard the faint sound of Jose Feliciano belting out "Feliz Navidad" - a cheery Christmas song that lifted my spirits, put a vision of Christmas vacation in my head, and helped me make it through the final.

And it was the closest I'd come to studying for Spanish the entire semester.

This inspiration, supplemented by an ample supply of caffeine, helped carry me to 6 a.m. Thursday when I finished my English paper.

When I turned the paper in at 8, finals week was over at last. And in retrospect, it really wasn't that bad.

Or maybe that's just a delusion brought on by the fact that I haven't slept in more than 30 hours.

Bicycle no escape from the soaking waters of tradition

11/23/2008

There was a loud knock on my dorm room door.

I quickly glanced at the clock -- 11:45 p.m. What were they doing here so early? I should have had at least five more minutes before they showed up to take me.

Resigning myself to my fate, I prepared to answer the door. But first I needed some kind of plan.
A month ago, when my friend Louise was taken, she went without a fight. She understood that resistance was futile. But last week, Andy set the bar higher. He almost escaped.
Now it was my turn.

I'm speaking, of course, of the long-standing and time-honored LMU tradition of getting thrown into the Foley fountain on your birthday. A tradition so ancient that even my dad was thrown in when he went to LMU three decades ago (granted, fountains probably hadn't been invented yet, and he was thrown into the pool, but it was the same basic concept).

In 15 minutes I would be 19, and fair game for the mob outside my door. I needed an escape route.
And then my phone buzzed with a text message from Andy: He had a plan. He was going to help me escape. Now that's what I call a roommate. I just needed to get through the crowd outside my door and make it outside.

Thankfully, that turned out to be easier than I thought. All I did was promise them I'd mention them by name in my next article, and they gave me a head start.

I made it out the front doors before they gave chase. Thankfully, there was Andy, my savior, with a bike.

I leaped onto the bike and started pedaling. I was home free! And then I noticed that Brad and Arkell were having a very easy time running alongside me. They proceeded to lift both me and the bike up off the ground.

I was then carried to the fountain.

However, despite the fact that I tried my best to escape, it was still a good five minutes before midnight, and they could not, in good conscience, throw me in yet. I still had time to free myself.

With the help of Brad, who had a miraculous change of heart (probably wants me to help him escape on his birthday) I broke free and took off. I headed straight for the sprinklers; no one would be crazy enough to follow me there.

Turns out I was wrong. A minute later, Zach and Arkell brought me back. And then they threw me in.
It was cold. Freezing cold. Hypothermia cold. But it was fun. And thankfully, I have this column to bribe people with to make it more interesting (and since a deal's a deal: Jake, Megan, Zach, Brad, Sam and Arkell).

This brings to light a very important realization of mine: Writing this column has profoundly, permanently and irreversibly affected my life. Not only was I able to use my column to temporarily help me escape the birthday mob, but now my need for stories to use in my column has altered the way I look at the things that happen to me.

For example, take another fairly important event that took place earlier this month: the presidential election.

Unlike most of my peers, I made the trek to an actual voting booth in Torrance rather than vote absentee. Why? Because when I voted in the California primary I was forcibly thrown out of the polling place for wearing a Ron Paul T-shirt which apparently, under California Elections Code Section 18370-18371, is illegal.

So I wore the same shirt again, secretly hoping something like this would happen again, not because I particularly enjoy getting thrown out of polling places, but because it would give me something to write about. Alas, nobody even raised an eyebrow.

I constantly find myself hoping for bad and amusing things to happen to me.

Every time I do my laundry I see the warning sticker that says "Do Not Use More Than Cup of Laundry Detergent! Oversudding may occur!" and every time I push the limit on that cup, thinking that it would make a funny story if my laundry did, in fact, oversud and spewed suds all over the laundry room.

Another example: On the way back from the freshman retreat, the brakes on one of the buses caught on fire, filling the inside with smoke and forcing the bus to stop halfway down the mountain, stranding its occupants.

Unfortunately, I was on the other bus. And while my friends rejoiced that our bus was still functional, I alone wished that we could be stranded on the mountain as well, for the sake of my column.
Fortunately, there's usually something going on that I can write about. In fact, it's Ashley's birthday in 10 minutes and rumor has it she's going to make a run for it. I'd better get over there.

The Few, The Proud, The History TAs

"Nick, we've got a situation!"

A seemingly endless flow of water poured out the bottom of the potted tree.

Apparently, the poor plant had been given more water than it could handle.

We needed a solution, and we needed it fast.

Seconds later, Nick returned with the only materials he could find: paper towels and paper plates. They would have to do.

We quickly created a makeshift catch basin for the overflowing water and curtailed the expanding puddle. Crisis averted.

Nick and I are History Teaching Assistants (TAs for short), two members of an elite team of history majors dedicated to keeping the history department running smoothly, and we had just successfully planted a tree in Professor Rolfs' office.

These are the kind of high-pressure situations we deal with every day.

From our command center on the third floor, we stand constantly on alert, ready for anything.

The copy machine is out of paper? No sweat. My co-worker Justin and 3,000 sheets of paper will be there momentarily.

A hundred name tags need to be made for the "Water and Politics in Southern California" conference this weekend? We'll just turn our command center into a four-person assembly line.

A professor needs a book from the library? I'll hop on my trusty bike and high-tail it across campus.

This is my on-campus work-study job, and, as you can tell, it's pretty intense.

We receive hand-delivered assignments from Teresa, the administrative assistant of the History Department.

Teresa is ably assisted by Angela, a senior history major and our fearless leader. It's her job to make sure we do our jobs efficiently. She is very successful at this, probably because she bribes us with her delicious homemade chocolate chip cookies. There is almost nothing I wouldn't do to get my hands on just a morsel or two of her cookies.

My own personal area of specialty is the courier run to the library, based solely on the fact that I have a bike. My bike and I are dispatched whenever a professor needs a book or a movie from the library, and I do my job well.

I can now make it to the library and back in less than 12minutes.

Unfortunately, I'm not always able to maintain this record speed. When Professor Perron asked me to pick up "Crusader Art in the Holy Land," I assumed it would be just like any other assignment. However, when I finally located the book, I realized just how wrong my assumption had been.

"Crusader Art in the Holy Land" turned out to be half my size and at least twice my body weight (granted, this was an eyeball estimation, so the actual dimensions may have been slightly different).

I imagine that under normal circumstances, this book is transported using a crane or a helicopter, but his class started within the hour and I didn't have time to arrange such a thing. Somehow, I was able to make due with just my bike, although I was slower than usual. That was my longest trip yet, taking a whole 22 minutes.

When not out actively solving the woes of the History Department, we TAs spend our time in the command center, our little Room 3446.

The very important endless bowl of candy is located in this room, giving us the constant supply of energy we need to do our jobs effectively. Also located in this room are computers, scanners and printers. With these, we perform the valuable tasks of scanning books, doing research and watching funny YouTube videos.

Unfortunately, we frequently find ourselves unable to perform these tasks because the machines seem to have minds of their own.

Take the color printer for example: Every once in a while it decides to take Wednesday off. And occasionally, the computer and the scanner flat out refuse to speak with one another.

Luckily, we have Henry, the engineering major who works next door in the computer lab. While the computers may not listen to us history majors, they know that when Henry walks into the room, they had better start obeying or he will literally take them apart and force them to function properly.

All in all, I love working as a History TA. It's a great opportunity to meet the teachers, hang out with fellow history majors and occasionally get some homework done. And to top it off, they actually pay me to do this.

College, Where a Kid Can Be a Kid

There I was, running full speed across the field, screaming my head off with three of my dorm mates. We were dressed as Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles – the official mascot of our dorm - carrying the banner of Del Rey South behind us. We were celebrating the touchdown our team had just scored against our cross quad rivals, Rosecrans. This was the championship football game of Hall-Brawls, a semester long competition between all the freshman residence halls.

Unfortunately, our valiant efforts as mascots weren’t enough to turn the tide of the game, and Rosecrans snatched away our hopes of victory. All the same, it was a blast, and I had fulfilled my longstanding childhood dream of being a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle – even if it was only for one afternoon.

It’s great being able to let loose and have fun after a hard week of classes. And Hall-Brawls are just the beginning. One of my favorite things to do on Friday afternoons is play Ultimate Frisbee – a game like football played with a Frisbee.

And this time I’m not the mascot; I can actually play, despite my lack of athleticism. There’s nothing quite like seeing your Frisbee pass caught by your buddy in the end zone, and the celebration that ensues. Conversely, there’s nothing quite as disheartening as seeing your perfect pass karate kicked out of the air by the opposing team.

In addition, LMU has put on some pretty great events as well. Take Twister Night for example. They didn’t just settle for the boring old game that comes in a box; they went all out and got a huge inflatable bouncy house version of Twister. This added a whole new dimension to the game, since every once and awhile people would run by and crash into the wall, making the whole thing shake and causing those of us with less then perfect balance to come tumbling down. Considering that I barely have enough flexibility to function as a normal human being, I didn’t last very long, but watching my 6’ 2” friend Brendan virtually dislocate his arms in order to successfully stretch across the entire board was great fun.

Similar to Twister night, last weekend they set up an obstacle course based on the old TV show “Legends of the Hidden Temple”. Apparently this brought back nostalgic memories of childhood to those privileged enough to have cable growing up, but I was more interested in racing my friends through an obstacle course built for kids half our age. So after signing a wavier releasing LMU from any legal responsibilities should I disappear or die in the maze, the fun was allowed to begin.

Lest you think college is all fun and games, I also participated in the Knowledge Bowl, a competition in which teams prove their collegiate status by answering questions of excruciating difficulty. Take the question that stumped me, for example: “What color are the palm trees on the In-and-Out milkshake cups?”

Naturally, I’m the only one on the team from California, so the whole team turns to me for the answer. Judging by the audience’s reaction, most of them knew the answer as well. The pressure was on. And I choked. I said they were red. I realized my mistake immediately: everyone knows the milkshake cups are green and that it’s the drink cups that are red! I hope the honors program doesn’t get wind of this and evict me.

This is my favorite part about college so far; we’re able to have fun and act like kids, while at the same time being on our own. There are no parents around to tell us that we might get hypothermia if we run through the sprinklers at 2 AM. Sure, when I somersaulted down the slide to the obstacle course finish line I probably could have broken my neck, and thanks to an ill advised move in Ultimate Frisbee my left leg is so sore I can barely make it up the stairs, but the point is that these are times I’ll remember forever. And I need to enjoy them while they last, because I have yet to see any adult do something like dress up as a Pokemon and sing their heart out to Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give you Up”. I witnessed a bunch of fraternity guys do just this in the Lip Synch Competition.

And for any of you concerned parents who are wondering if college students ever actually get any work done, I promise we do. It’s just that this is more fun to write about than the nitrification cycle or the capitulations granted to Britain by the Ottoman Empire. That reminds me, I’ve got a midterm in nine hours and should probably start studying.

Hold on, a washing machine is calling.

I don't know how my parents survived college. No computers or Internet. No cell phones. The only video game they had was Pong. And their washers and dryers didn't text message them when the laundry was done.

That's right, here at LMU we've got washing machines with state-of-the-art artificial intelligence. We may still have to put up with the archaic concept of laundry, but we get to do it in style.

At first I was wary of these new machines. For one, if they ever become self-aware, they could do some serious damage, like tell me the wrong pickup time for my laundry. In addition, I want to save my limited text messagesfor emergency situations, like an earthquake or when I'm in class and need to tell my roommate Andy to meet me for lunch.

But then I noticed a rather strange phenomenon. It appears that spontaneously and without explanation, everyone's laundry suddenly needs to be done at the exact same time. I walk past that room 10 times a day and there's never a single washer or dryer going, but the moment I realize I need to do laundry, every machine is full.

In addition, during one of these freak laundry rushes, should you leave laundry sitting in a washer or dryer for too long after it has finished, it mysteriously transfers itself from said washer or dryer onto a nearby tabletop or the floor.

This newfound text messaging ability could help with these problems. It will notify me when my laundry is done, thus reminding me to run down and retrieve it before it leaps out of the machine. Secondly, it will notify me instantly if a washer or dryer opens up.

This second ability has added a whole new dimension to the quest for getting an open washer or dryer. When my phone starts buzzing to tell me that dryer D8 is ready, a race against time has begun. Everyone else who wants that dryer has just received the exact same text message, and you can bet they're not hesitating for a moment.

Even better than these high-tech machines is a little gift my godfather, Pete, gave me: the Amazon Kindle.

It came in real handy the other day when I realized that I needed to buy a book, read it and write a paper on it all within five days. Thanks to the Kindle - a wireless reading tool - I got the book and started reading it in 16 seconds (literally). This way, I'll finish the book and have several days to write the paper. (All right, so I'll still probably wait until the night before, but at least I have the option of doing it early.)

As you can see, the modern world is very much alive at LMU. And you can't have the modern world without the constant reminder to "go green" and save the planet, a movement also very much alive here (I myself am doing my part with the Kindle; I no longer read using brutalized tree carcasses).

My first introduction to campus eco-friendliness came when I walked into the dining hall. I noticed it immediately. They had taken away our trays. In what is being called a trayless trial, all the eateries on campus have done away with trays. The rationale goes that without having to wash them, lots of water and soap will be saved.

At first I didn't think it was a big deal. However, I was soon awakened to a severe biological flaw in humans: we've only got two hands. That means when you've got a hamburger in one hand and a drink in the other, there is no open hand to grab that bag of chips or banana. This becomes more complicated when you have to perform the treacherous task of retrieving your wallet and paying the cashier.

Back in the era of trays, one would simply place his tray on the tray holder in front of the cashier and then have two free hands. In this post-tray environment, however, the tray holders are still designed to hold trays, so they consist only of three thin metal bars, which means that anything smaller then a tray will fall right through to the floor.

Fortunately, the power of the human mind will overcome. I have seen hungry people spontaneously learn to juggle and have witnessed astounding acts of balance. As for myself, I've been using my Spanish book as a makeshift tray, which helps me mentally justify the fact that I spent $120 on it.

Anyway, now would be a good time to end, because my phone is buzzing and I have to grab my hamper and get down to Washing Machine E4 before it's too late.

College life, Week 1: What's not to like?

So there I was, driving to Loyola Marymount University, ready to move into my new home.

I was excited. Lots of questions shot through my head: What would my roommate be like? How would I like living in a dorm? Would I be able to handle the classes? Did I bring enough clothes to put off doing laundry until I go home for Thanksgiving?

These questions started being answered right away.

My roommate, Andy? A great guy. Dorm life? It took me about five minutes to realize it's going to be awesome. My classes? The jury's still out on that one. And from the look of my closet, I've only got about a day before I have to make the trek to the laundry room.

One of the first things I realized when I moved into my room in Del Rey South was that Andy and I were lacking a few necessities.

One look down the hallway and we could see the plasma TVs, Xboxes, DVD players, iPhones and refrigerators that our neighbors were moving into their rooms. The only technology we possessed were our cell phones and our laptops - and Andy's kept freezing every 35 seconds (love that Windows Vista).

Clearly, we needed to either secure some high-tech equipment of our own, or start making friends with the other guys in our hallway.

And those guys turned out to be great, including our resident adviser, Demigod David, as we've taken to calling him.

I've even come to appreciate living on the top floor of the building, or, as we call it, the penthouse. At first I was a little resentful of the fact that I had to walk up three flights of stairs several times a day, but after hearing the frequent complaints we get from the guys down on the third floor, I'm glad we've got no one above us.
The food is also definitely a plus. Places to eat are abundant and food has never been more affordable thanks to my prepaid meal plan - though I'm not sure how long my body can survive on pizza and hamburgers.

Fortunately, there's also a Jamba Juice on campus where I can get the daily vitamin boost.

My first weekend at the school was more fun than I'd expected - getting to know everyone, hanging out with my new friends, and sort of forgetting to sleep. Sadly, it had to end eventually, and so began what some people might argue is the real purpose of college: classes.

Fortunately, I'm in the honors program, which means that I finally have the opportunity to break off the longstanding love-hate relationship I've had with math over the years.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very thankful for all that math has done for me. After all, math enables this laptop I'm typing on to function. It prevents the roof from caving in on top of me. And it makes it possible for my parents to calculate my tuition bill.

Unfortunately, math has one, major, unforgivable flaw: I can't actually do it. Luckily, the honors program has no math requirement for liberal arts majors like myself.

My only real complaint about classes so far is that it's a lot harder to do homework here than it was in high school.

No, not because it's all that much more difficult. It's just that living in the dorm means my friends are now across the hall hanging out and having fun, instead of across Torrance. And this is a huge deterrent to spending any time actually doing work.

Luckily, I discovered a secret reserve of self-discipline I didn't know existed, and have managed to complete my homework thus far.

After a week of college, I'm happy with it. Looking outside my dorm room, I'm surrounded by friends. Everyone's got his door propped open, be it with a doorstop, a chair, or in my case a coat hanger.

So far it's been a lot of fun, and the best part is that I've got a whole four years to look forward to.