Unlikely Contents & Same Fish, Different Pond

Quick funny story:

My last blog entry highlighted the fantastic vacation T and I took in Michigan. Anyone who knows me, especially my parents, will appreciate this story. You see, I MIGHT be a little forgetful…sometimes. Just a little. Actually, I’m so forgetful that my folks started calling me Hansel and Gretel – the little kids who left a trail of bread crumbs behind them wherever they went so they could find their way back. I have this oh-so-slight tendency to leave my stuff wherever I go. MI was no exception.

Turns out, we didn’t even make it 15 miles away from the house when my Aunt calls me and says, “hey! You left some stuff here! Do you just want me to send it back to you in a care package?” Laughing, I said, “absolutely.” Sure enough, about a week later, I receive a package in the mail. I open up the package. Inside the box was my curling iron…and a sock. Not a pair of socks. A curling iron and ONE sock. One sock…REALLY!?!?!?!?! The sad thing is, I don’t think I ever found his buddy in the stuff that DID make it home. It’s probably in the garage or the back yard or something. Geez. Huge thanks to Aunt K for sending me my curling iron…and a sock :-)

So anyway, if you’ve been following along, I started classes at George Mason University this semester. I received my Associates degree in a rather lackluster way – they sent it to me in the mail. So now I move on to Phase II - finishing my B.S. in Biology. I guess it would be about right here in the ol’ blog that I’m supposed to sit here and revere on being a little fish in a bigger pond. I guess that would be the case if I was having the “normal” college experience, but clearly I am not. Instead, I’m just commuting from my giant work pond to a comparatively bigger school pond that has really crappy parking. There are, however, some notable differences between a “real” University and a Community College that I’d like to take a moment to mention.

Community Colleges are usually filled with the following subpopulations: 1) Adults like me who, for one reason or another, got busy after high school and didn’t go to college right away; 2) Kids who really want to go to college, but are trying to find the most inexpensive way to do it; 3) Kids whose parents said, “get off your ass and get a job or take some classes before I kick you out on the street.” I only met one or two people who fit the latter description; the rest were mostly normal folks just trying to “get their learn on.”

Then you observe a “real” University setting. There are too many subpopulations to list here, the stereotypes run the full gamut at this school. There are the kids with the Mohawks/”faux”hawks with skateboards and studs, the really dweeby types who haven’t grown out of “nerd” yet, “mean girls,” jocks, band geeks walking around with their instruments, hippie types playing anti-war songs on their guitars in the courtyard. You name it, George Mason has it. It’s just an extension of high school. It’s really kind of funny, especially when you consider that these people will get out college, start real lives, trading their guitars and Mohawks for briefcases and baby food. They just have NO idea – and that, to me, is hilarious. I love the irony that these kids of all types spend so much time trying to be "individuals" that they all end up looking the same. Me? I'm just trying to survive organic chemistry.

One thing I can say for the student body that I have noticed in just the short amount of time I’ve attended classes there – they sure do have some school spirit. I see at least a third of the people walking around with George Mason gear on: sweatshirts, shorts, t-shirts, back packs, all adorned with the school name right on them. I can’t say I haven’t fallen victim to a bit of pride – I definitely own a couple items bearing the school moniker. I was just really psyched about being at a “real” school. You don’t see anyone running around NOVA with a whole bunch of NOVA spirit. Hell, it’s a good day if you can get most people to put their trash in a proper receptacle.

The concept of school spirit in and of itself makes perfect sense to me. I think a lot of what drives school spirit is the sports programs at a particular school. VA Tech has tons of school spirit because they have a kick ass football team. University of MD has a great football and basketball program. Schools with great sports teams drum up that sense of competition that leads to solidarity and, thus, school spirit. However, George Mason doesn’t quite fit the bill of a school with a robust sports program. There is no football team and the basketball team did something cool for the first time (made it to the NCAA Tournament Final Four when they shouldn’t have had a prayer of winning) only 2 1/2 years ago. I’m not sure if the abundance of Mason spirit I see today is residual from that event two years ago, or if people are actually proud to be attending the largest university in Northern Virginia. Whatever it is, it’s pretty cool to be surrounded by a bunch of people so enthused about their school, however unsubstantiated it may be.

The last and most awesome defining aspect of being at George Mason is the shocking availability of condiments at this school. Not just any condiment. I’m talking about the sweet and tangy goodness that is honey mustard. I’m not sure who sat on the George Mason University Dining Board and decided that there shall be honey mustard wherever there are students, but they should get the Nobel Peace Prize. Seriously.

I bought a plain ham and cheese sandwich from their little convenience store to stave off some I-missed-dinner hunger pains. Seeing that the sandwich was as dry as the Mojave on a Tuesday in August, I decided to hit up the condiment bar for some yellow mustard or some mayo, whatever was available. As I’m scoping out the selection, which I’m sure you’d agree is generally pretty poor wherever you go, my eyes fell upon a beautiful sight. It was as though the heavens opened up and rained sunshine into the room packed with oblivious students. I thought I heard angels sing as I feasted my eyes upon a never before seen phenomenon: there, in all of its glory, was a big, giant dispenser of honey mustard. I couldn’t believe my eyes! I rubbed my eyes to be sure it wasn’t a chemistry-induced mirage. I pinched myself to make sure I was awake. Then, after people around me started looking at me funny, I finally dispensed the inaugural tablespoon of golden yummy-ness onto my sandwich. That was the coolest thing ever!

Oh, but it gets better. A few weeks later, I stopped in at Chick-Fil-A to grab some chicken tenders. As I’m paying for my trans-fat-laced lumps of breaded nutrition-free fowl, I ask the kid at the register for some barbeque sauce. He reaches into a bin behind him and grabs a couple sauce packets. I noticed another bin of sauces sitting next to the one from which the BBQ sauce originated. Could it be? Oh, yes, it can! Sure enough, it was honey mustard. I asked the kid to peel me off a couple of those, too. [Incidentally, Chick-Fil-A does NOT live up to its hype. Why does everyone rave about it so much?]

I can’t believe my good fortune, really. I mean, I’m at a really good school that continues to quickly increase its national acclaim (but not enough to drive up tuition prices), I’m on an academic track that will serve to ultimately fulfill my dreams and, best of all, I don’t have to very far from my favorite condiment/salad dressing/dipping sauce.

Does it get ANY better than this, I ask?