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Ne w s p a p e r o f Wa l l a Wa l l a U n i v e r s i t y

Collegian The

Volume 102 | Issue 07

Cat Sculptures! pg. 6

“If you’re cooler than me, I’m hotter than you.” -Omar Afaro, ASWWU Executive VP

November 9, 2017

Last Things First college place, wa | walla walla university

| November 2017 Issue 6

Pomegranate Tacos By Meghann Heinrich I consider myself something of a unique individual. I march to the beat of my own drum. I don’t find myself too bothered by social conventions like traffic laws and/or any commonly held hostile opinions toward Crocs. That said, I haven’t always been this forward-thinking. No, in all honesty, getting to the point where I can block out angry horn-honkers has been an uphill climb.¹ I have distinct memories of learning to drive and feeling pressured to keep up with all of the cars flying past me. If someone passed me on the right, I’d take it as a personal insult to my driving. If someone passed me on the left, I’d feel left behind. There I’d be, lolloping down the highway, regaling my mother (who is the definition of a no-nonsense woman) on the moral quandary of speed limits versus going with the flow of traffic. “Meghann, I need you to focus,” she would say. “I

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don’t think you understand, Mother. It’s like I can’t be at peace. I am the learner’s permit version of Jean Valjean. If I speak, I am condemned. If I stay silent, I am damned!”² I’d retort. Meanwhile, as I was waxing philosophical and angering my mother, my sister would be nearly catatonic in the backseat, whispering urgent prayers for safety. All this to say, I was once hyper aware of other people’s perceptions of me, and it was exhausting. That brings me to junior high—a time we can all be at least a little ashamed of. Whether it was your haircut or the name of your email account, we all have a middle school skeleton in the closet. My family had moved from Washington to California a fews years prior to this time, but the adjustment had been painstakingly slow, due in large part to my calculated approach to making friends: step 1, never speak unless spoken to, and step 2, lay low.

Despite my fool-proof methods, the friend-making business proved tricky, so when I got invited to my first sleep-over, I felt like everything was riding on this one night. I got to the house early in the afternoon, leaving lots of time for chit-chat and fun—two things not accounted for in my 2-step plan. Astonishingly, it went exceptionally well. I was pleasantly surprised with how much fun it was to ad-lib in this new social setting. I was flirting with actual conversation which, for 12-year-old me, was like summiting Everest. Then it happened: the pomegranate incident. We were gathering for supper when my friend leaned over and said, “In our family, it is tradition to put pomegranate seeds in your tacos.” I was stunned. It did not sound yummy, it did not sound sane, but I knew that if I was going to seal the friendship deal I had better not ask questions. Maybe this was an age-old

tradition, passed down from generation to generation. Perhaps this was a rite of passage, like, “Here, eat our weird tacos and be forever bonded with our awesome family.” I went through line building my tacos and came to the last dish full of pomegranate seeds. I bravely took a heaping helping and mushed it into the sour cream atop my tacos. The meal went well, I smiled through the pain and miraculously finished all the food on my plate. Feeling strong, I complimented my friend’s mother on the food, noting how “interesting and pleasant it was to try the pomegranate seeds with the veggie meat.” Everyone froze. I knew I had said something wrong, but I couldn’t figure out what. The mother choked on her bite. Conversation halted. I didn’t know what to say, so I stammered, “You know, like your traditional family tacos, passed down from generation to generation… with the pomegranates?” My friend

started nervously laughing — apparently she had been joking. I was crestfallen. After all the chit-chat and fun, after I had successfully navigated all other aspects of the sleep-over, this was my undoing. I was embarrassed, and everyone else was very confused as to where my elaborate backstory of generational tacos had come from. Fate still managed to smile on me though; we are friends to this day, and I still eat tacos. So, I mean, I think we can call it an unqualified success. 1. At some point you just have to accept that the haters gonna hate. 2. For those of you who might not be familiar with the origin of this reference, in the musical retelling of Victor Hugo’s groundbreaking novel “Les Miserables,” the male lead (Jean Valjean) is put in the compromising position of either turning himself in as prisoner 24601 or staying silent and forcing an innocent man to take the punishment meant for him.

Verbatim “You guys take whatever I say, twist it, and send it to The Collegian.”

“Thank you Walla Walla Goodwill for preparing us for sweater weather at college student prices.”

-Professor Curt Nelson “If you say to someone ‘I just died a little bit inside,’ that’s technically true!” -Professor Kirt Onthank on frequent cell death

“Thank you Maple Counter for the amount of butter in every single menu item. You’re making Paula Deen proud.”

“If we straighten the Tower of Pisa, we could call it the straight Tower of Pisa. However, that sounds wrong. We wouldn’t call it the gay Tower of Pisa.

“Thank you time change for ensuring that I will not see the sun for the next four and a half months.”

“Do you need to reserve the babes in advance?” - Professor Douglas Logan while talking about planning a spring break trip to Mexico.

- Professor Bryce Cole while talking talking about creeping settlement of soil.

“I love cocaine” - Professor Jim Nestler while talking about neurotransmitters Email your faculty verbatim or shower thoughts to meghann.heinrich@wallawalla.edu to be featured!