Cedarville University

Of the five classes that I am taking this semester, on the days that I am awake and cognizant of what is going on in the world around me, Intro to Media Writing is definitely one of the most entertaining. Although it’s starting time of 3:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays is a little less than ideal, I find enough enjoyment in the class itself to overlook this. Plus, through the wisdom from experience and years of study that Dr. Baker shares with us, I have learned an awful lot this semester- especially about how horrible a journalistic writer I was for my high school newspaper! My Intro to Media Writing class has only seven people in it, and we get to have class in the beautiful Journalism News Lab, outfitted with many sleek looking but sometimes quite frustrating Apple computers. There are also nine TV monitors on the walls, all tuned to news channels, so we can feel very official while we write our fictional news stories in class.

Of the seven people in the class, Josh sits by himself on the far left of the front row, Tacie and Chelsea sit together on the right, Alyssa and Cameron sit together on the left of the back row, and I sit next to Bekah. Bekah was actually the one who asked me to write this blog, though I had already been considering it. Great minds think alike, I guess? Bekah and Dr. Baker have amusing, friendly disagreements about the nature of journalistic writing, which Bekah habitually describes as “boring,” “dull,” and many other unappealing adjectives, combined with many loud noises of frustration when she just cant seem to put a story together the way shes wishes. She’s a little bit of a perfectionist. After one such outburst, which always elicits laughter from the rest of us, Dr. Baker included, Dr. Baker said that Bekah was basically stabbing him in the chest. See, Bekah has decided to test the limits of her own patience by being a Journalism major when she just wants to rail against the structure and rules of journalistic writing. But basically, sitting by Bekah is definitely never boring. So if I’ve finished my article for the day, I usually get to spend the rest of class time watching her struggle and groan her way through a story. I threatened to write this blog in journalistic style, just to give her a scare.

Basically, whenever we get assigned a story, Bekah still thinks its boring. Dr. Baker once said that she should use a conspiracy theory she made up about a story and write a short story about it. So, basically the class is actually a hotbed of inspiration: I’ve already written a blog because of it and Bekah has a short story idea.

Actually, in about thirty minutes, I’ll be heading to Intro to Media Writing, my last class today. I wonder what will happen today? Probably more outbursts from Bekah, more of Dr. Baker laughing, and more of me observing. Cause, after all, that’s what a good journalist needs to do: observe.

For me, personally, I’m a creative writer myself. I have 3 blogs, one of them solely for creative writing even. But journalistic writing is definitely a good skill to have. This is especially true for me because my biggest weakness in writing at times is being long-winded, and journalism just doesn’t tolerate that. And as for structure, in creative writing, yeah, it’s all about messing with structure, and sometimes even grammar, but there is a place for order, and a journalist isn’t paid to be creative. Journalism is teaching me how to look for the importance in things, and bring out the lead. Really, thats kinda an important life skill too. When I look at anything in life, there are things to apply from what I’ve been learning in Intro to Non-Boring Writing, as I learn to analyze things in life and really cut down to the essentials of situations. And then I’ll get to apply my new skills of being concise and prioritizing information next semester, when I take Intro to Creative Writing. Which, by the way, is also non-boring.

I’m a die-hard Dallas Cowboys fan. It’s hard being a Cowboys fan up here, surrounded by many Bengals and Browns and Packers and Steelers and Colts, and being 1009.39 miles away from Texas Stadium. But I am steadfast in my support for my team, always making sure to wear my Cowboys Sweatshirt the day after the game, whether they won or lost. This is how I prove I’m a true fan. The new and improved Texas Stadium opened about five weeks ago for the Cowboys first regular season home game against the New York Giants, on a game of Sunday Night Football. Because, after all, Sunday Night is football night. But the New York Giants ended up spoiling the occasion for me. I was watching the game in the Lawlor lounge, the only Cowboys fan in a sea of people cheering on the Giants and it was a close, explosive game, as the teams fought back and forth. The Cowboys played better than the Giants, except that they gave up 24 points off of turnovers, squandering opportunities to build a lead in the game. But the ‘Boys still put together a drive and went up 31-30 with just a few moments left in the game, allowing me to celebrate while the rest of the lounge languished. But the Giants came right back and made a game-winning field goal, and I tried to slip out of the lounge quietly, asserting that we would beat the Giants next time.

And then last Sunday, the Cowboys got to play their next division game. But this was more than just another division game. This was more than just a game, even. This was a blood battle for NFC East supremacy and for vengeance. This was the Cowboys vs. Eagles, my simultaneously favorite and least favorite games of the season. Let me set this up a little bit. You might think that as a Cowboys fan, the team I hate most has to be the Redskins. No, not anymore, because, let’s face it, they just aren’t threatening enough. But the Eagles, grr, the Eagles. They used to always beat the ‘Boys, back when we were terrible and they were one of the best NFC teams. (But, my favorite NFL statistic, Cowboys Super Bowls= 5 Eagles=0!!!) So, I tell people that I hate the Eagles more than anything else on earth. This does not include any people on the Eagles or anything, just as a sports franchise, I despise them. And no matter how good either team is, it’s always a drop down dog-fight between us. Also, my brother, liking to be annoying when very little, decided to root for the Eagles because they always won and because it made me mad. He still roots for them to this day. And we are still not friends during Cowboys-Eagles games. And, of course, the last time the Cowboys played the Eagles, we got embarrassed and knocked out of playoff contention in a 44-6 humiliation. So, we had alot to prove.

So, again, Sunday night is football night, and I had been preparing all day, viciously knocking out homework from two to seven thirty so I could watch the game in (relative) peace. (Relative cause during big Cowboys games, I’m pretty darn nervous!) So I trekked back to the Lawlor lounge, anticipating 3 hours of sweat but hopefully not tears. Again, I was basically the only Cowboy fan in the lounge, and I was really not wanting to be humiliated, even though, logically, the game really has nothing to do with me. But of course, logic has nothing to do with being a sports fan! The game started off well. We picked off a McNabb pass and turned it into a touchdown. Then a defensive struggle ensued, and at halftime it was 10-6 Cowboys. Then on the Eagles first drive of the second half, they marched down and hit their tight end, Brent Celek in the end zone for a touchdown, and their first lead of the game, 13-10. The Cowboys would tie up the game with a field goal early in the fourth. Now the nail-biting really got intense. I was sitting next to Lianne, an Eagles fan I graciously invited to sit next to me to test my own patience (Last year, in the 44-6 massacre, I threw the remote control….) when the Cowboys got the ball back with about 11 minutes left in the game. They got backed up to a 2 and 24 when Romo hit Patrick Crayton for eleven yards. Now it was 3 and 13. Romo hiked the ball, pulled back to pass, and hit Miles Austin on a beautiful stop-and-go route. He caught the ball at the twenty, ran past some Eagles defenders into the end zone for a touchdown that ended up being a game winner. The final score was 20-16. Following this three hour ordeal, I was incredibly happy In fact, so happy that as soon as I had said goodnight to Lianne and she assured me (falsely, of course ) as I had about the Giants game that the Eagles would beat us next time (we play the last game of the season), I ran up to my unit to confront Zach, a pseudo-Cowboys fan who was saying we were going to lose. After recounting the details to him, I ran outside to call my Dad, and celebrate to him too. And the next day I made a picture of Miles Austin spiking the ball after his touchdown my computer background. I was having an online conversation with someone during the game and they asked me, “Is it really that big of a deal?” And my answer was “oh yes!”

And for now, nothing else in the NFL matters (until next Sunday of course. Packers? You’re going down!), just that the ‘Boys beat the Eagles. I’ve worn my sweatshirt every day this week. And it pretty much set off the best week of college for me. No particular reason, I’m just seeing the world through silver-and-blue glasses.

Standing outside by the main entrance to the Dixon Ministry, a good minute walk from Lawlor if you are walking fast, you can see it. A strange pink glow in an upper left-hand side window of the horseshoe shaped Lawlor, it shines like a neon beacon guiding me home after a long day of classes, homework, and walking. The light emanates from a small flamingo figurine in the Lawlor 32A, the room owned and operated by Peter and Chance. During open dorms, the neon flamingo drew complete strangers to our unit, transfixed by the beckoning glow. Its far-reaching light sends the message to the rest of Cedarville that this is the place to be. And I have the privelege of being there all the time.

Take this weekend as an example. After the long, hard first week back after Fall Break, it was time to relax. Friday night something unusual happened, in that we watched a movie in Greg and Sam’s room instead of The Pink Flamingo (which serves only nonalcoholic drinks, by the way), so I’ll skip over that night. I mostly just fell asleep anyhow. But Saturday, after finally tearing myself out of bed at 12:30 (an inevitable consequence of going to bed at 3 and having no morning commitments) and running over to brunch before it closed, The Pink Flamingo was my home for the weekend. This particular weekend my roommate was gone to a conference in Michigan, so the Flamingo expanded across 32A and B for a couple days, as we competed in Stick War, a strategy game where you have stick warriors and must defeat the opponent, and which took Chance all of thirty minutes to beat. It took me only about 22 minutes longer than that. But after a blur of events, Johnson, Peter, and I settled in to the Flamingo for a long evening of fun.

Let me take a moment to describe the room for you first. It is the fun room, usually resonating with upbeat, popular music intermixed with metal bands that the other guys really like. I’m more of a normal rock guy myself. You walk inside and see the bunk beds, perfect stadium seating for watching movies, all five seasons of the office, the first season of Dollhouse, both seasons of Chuck, and so on. The computer and desks make a great workshop setting for homework or a lounge for playing various video games. Food, such as popcorn, candy, cookies, et cetera, is all shared by all in the room (whether the owner wanted it to be shared or not is not applicable…) It’s a completely broken in room, filled with as much comfort as Peter gets out of sleeping on his massive, heavy memory-foam pillow. The Flamingo opens at around nine or ten on weekdays and stays open until everyone decides to leave. On weekends, it’s open twenty-four-seven. The beverage of the day is whatever soda Caleb has that we can sneak out of the fridge.

Saturday night, after a busy day of doing nothing, as I said, Johnson, Peter, and I were hyped up on something, what it was we’re not sure, but we were all hyper, and it had some hilarious results. Johnson decided to Skype with two girls from back home, and me and Peter just couldn’t resist from having some fun. Peter was sitting in the hammock that attaches between the beds and the closet, behind where Johnson sat at the desk on the computer. The girls never had been introduced to us, nor we to them, but when one of them said that Peter (or as she said, “the guy you showed us earlier” or something like that) seemed cooler than the rest of us, and held up her phone number on a piece of paper, we saw our chance. I jumped up, quickly copied the phone number into my phone and then me and Peter were both texting the girl as “Peter.” It would take them an hour and a half to unravel this deception, and only then by calling both our voicemails and stalking us on Facebook. But the three of us had great fun doing it, shared alot of laughter, especially when I kept chunking the popcorn I was eating right at Johnson’s face, till he came over and dragged me off the bed. (This didn’t stop me.)

Then, after the Skype conversation finally died off between 2 and 3, we decided that naturally it was time to watch a movie. Surprisingly, we made it all the way through still awake and afterwards decided, that now naturally it was time to go to bed. The Flamingo flickered off, waiting to be turned back on the next night, anticipating the new fun it would witness from its perch on top of shelves on Peter’s desk. And, I’m pretty sure that by the end of the week, if that flamingo could talk, it would have some very interesting stories to tell.

Here is the Flamingo, in all its neon glory:

That little thing packs alot of power, huh? I’m even thinking of making a sign to put on the door to Lawlor 32A. And I’ll keep looking for that light in the window every time I round the corner of the DMC and head to my dorm for the night. And after dinner now, I know exactly where I’m headed.