COLUMN: Life is meant to be loopholed
It always seems to be the end of the semester when I make astounding discoveries, discoveries that involve taking advantage of certain prime situations. If only I had known about these loopholes earlier. I would have much more greatly abused my knowledge to get gain at this university. Imagine me heaving a ginormous sigh of regret. Curse the if-onlys and might-have-beens.
For instance, did you know that you can check out 30 books at a time from the Merrill-Cazier library? Holy smokes. Next time you see me in this gray, concrete building, I will have a little red wagon piled 30 stories high with bound writings of erudition. Imagine the possibilities. I could wipe out an entire collection in one go. And get this – grad students and professors have permission to take out a hundred items. I think I would faint if I had that privilege. It is extremely tempting to steal the identity of a grad student.
Jatie K. invited me to go to a Robins Awards dinner of sorts last week. She got the “in” because she was playing her violin as entertainment for the honored few. I got the “in” because I was her best friend. The dinner, full of elegantly gourmet finger foods and fancily posh lemonades, was held just outside the TSC. I expected there to be a guest list, because everyone was dressed so formally in tuxes and gowns that it made me feel queasy about my belongance, but, amazingly enough, the event was considerably open. No one asked me any questions as I piled heaps of kabobs and peppers and chocolate mousse cups onto my plate.
Speaking of dinner, you gotta love spending three hours gorging your face in the Marketplace (the cafeteria in the TSC). I did not come up with this brilliant idea on my own; Dr. J did. On occasion he hops into the cafeteria with his laptop and backpack, sets up camp at a table in an obscure corner, and goes on a homework marathon, taking occasional breaks to eat watermelon and watch YouTube clips of Mongolian vocalists. Jatie K. and I decided that this would be the perfect method (minus the Mongolian vocalists) to get our heinous Music Theory project out of the way. We arrived at the Marketplace before 4 p.m. and we stayed until 7 p.m. We spent our time munching on egg rolls and scouring musical scores for 21st-century techniques and elements. We got way too comfortable; we even took off our shoes and socks. I can still picture Jatie now, shouting excitedly across the boothed table, “This is the biggest tertian chord ever!”
“That deserves some Aggie Ice Cream,” I respond as we resultantly oblige ourselves.
Speaking of Aggie Ice Cream, did you know that you can use those blue free ice cream coupons (that the Food Science people award for test-tasting delectable foods in the blessed room of Nutrition 209) as credit for other items? Approximately two coupons equals one sandwich or baggie of squeaky cheese. Ugh. For all of this time I have been getting ice cream with my coupons instead of a substantial, nutritious and hearty lunch. Here’s the plan: taste test as much food as I possibly can, hoard the awarded coupons and have a five course meal that culminates with a single ice cream cone of glory. Mmm, good.
I am positive that I have put panic into the hearts of all the librarians, Marketplace managers, engineers and taste-testing organizers out there, for sharing these epiphanies with the innocent brains of each literate, Statesman-savvy student, but in all frankness, my dear comrades, life is meant to be loopholed. You can bet your bottom dollar that I will continue to seek out these secret loopholes lurking on campus until the bitter end of my stay in this Logan place. Consider it a service to mankind. USU, watch out. (And thanks for feeding me.)
Melissa Condie is a junior majoring in music education. Comments can be sent to m.condie@aggiemail.usu.edu.