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 12
A Year In Pictures – 1968 pg. 4
“I’m going to take a hot shower. It’s like a normal shower, but with me in it.” - Jonathan Muriu, ASWWU Diversity and Wellness Officer
January 25, 2018
O p - E d | R e l i g i o n | C o l l e g i a n W i s d o m | S e n a t e | J o b s | H i s t o r y | S c i e n c e | Fe a t u r e | We e k i n Fo r e c a s t | Fo o d | C u l t u r e | O u t d o o r s | M e d i a + Te c h | O p i n i o n | P o l l
Last Things First college place, wa | walla walla university
| January 2018 Issue 12
Caterpillar Life: A Study in Chagrin By Meghann Heinrich “Everyone is like a butterfly, they start out ugly and awkward and then morph into beautiful graceful butterflies that everyone loves.” - Drew Barrymore1 I’ll be honest—this morph thing has not been my experience. Though I hold Ms. Barrymore in the highest regard, I have yet to see it really take off in my personal experience. Some of us are just late bloomers. This is not a pity party, no sir. I count my extra-long caterpillar stage as a huge blessing, for from it I have honed the skills necessary to accept—nay, revel—in my daily blunders. I mean, for human butterflies, I can see how maybe sitting in a friend’s pie might not be something you want headlining the day after. But for us caterpillars, that is the stuff of life. You see, mishaps like that happen so frequently for us, they become second nature. It wasn’t always this way, no. I remember times before I was aware of
Hey Thanks! “Thank you Spotify for making all the iTunes gift cards I got for Christmas obsolete.” “Thank you Week of Worship for making me confused about my class schedule. Again.” “Thanks, homework. I didn’t need to sleep anyway, it’s fine.”
my semi-permanent caterpillar state. I was so embarrassed, so concerned that I would never recover from my follies, I would do my utmost to strike all evidence of my humiliation from the record and move on as hastily as I could. Like in second grade, when my pants split during P.E., and my whole class could see my new princess undies (which I was actually really proud of but thereafter put a blight on my good name). I remember great wailing and gnashing of teeth as I informed my mother that I would never be able to go to school again. Or at that formal banquet in high school—you know the kind—where everyone is dressed up really fancy and your date gets you one of those wrist corsage things and you feel like a million bucks; but also you are in high school, so really you are just sweating a lot and trying not to be weird. Anyway, you didn’t spill spaghetti on your dress or anything, so you’re feeling successful. Then, in the car on the way back, someone
asks, “Who sings that R.E.S.P.E.C.T. song?,” and you jump in to say “Aretha Franklin,” except you accidentally say something else for her first name and immediately regret everything. Yes, that happened... it was the definition of awful. Like I was saying, at some point, I recognized the pattern: recurring embarrassment that was just a cut above average any way you looked at it, and I realized—I had a gift. So I took that realization and made it into a way of life. The turnaround time it takes me to be able to recount my blunders has gone from weeks to days, and on occasion, even hours after they happen. I still go through the classic five stages of post-blunder grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Acceptance to me is being able to share my stories and, in doing so, moving on to the next. Acceptance brings me to this: I haven’t been completely upfront with
Verbatim “We have no erasable markers? Anyone have a sharpie? I have acetone in the lab.”
you. There is a story I have withheld because those involved are still connected to this campus, but seeing as how you’ve stuck with me this far, I guess now is as good a time as any to confess. I’m also banking on the fact that they probably won’t read this. I’ll be brief; this isn’t the sort of thing I’d like to dwell on. When I was a freshman here at WWU, there was a chap with whom I frequently spent time with. On one occasion, we went to a local coffee shop that shall remain unnamed. It was one of the more hipster places I’ve been to, and, as such, I felt a little out of my element. I went to order and decided to stick with something I recognized. I got an iced mocha. I went over to the pick up area to wait for my order while the chap chatted with the barista, and what do you know, my drink was already there waiting for me! I thought it was uncannily fast service, but you know, maybe they just had iced mochas on
standby or something. I picked up the glass and took a sip—big mistake. To this day I have no idea what it was. I can’t even describe it to you; it was brown but also carbonated and definitely not an iced mocha. I thought maybe that was just how hipsters make iced mochas and was about to comment on it when I heard, “Here’s your iced mocha.” I turned to see my drink on the pick-up table and froze. I realized my mistake, but no one had seen me, and so I did the unthinkable. I put the weird drink back on the pick-up table and snatched up my iced mocha. Then to my horror I saw a man come in from the patio, pick up the weird drink I had just sampled, and leave. I said nothing, and I live with that shame to this day. All hail the caterpillars. 1 https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/drew_barrymore_129653?src=t_awkward
We had some chemistry... Wanna hear a potassium joke? Sure.
That was your worst one yet.
K.
- Professor Joseph Brannaka “I had a good friend named ‘Zed,’ and he wasn’t even Canadian!” - Professor Jim Nestler “Be anxious for nothing, all you oldsters.” - Professor Linda Felipez, talking to a class of senior design students
Wow. This is...
Bananas!
“If you learn anything from this class, learn to chill your soda before you open it.” - Professor Melodie Selby
Email your faculty verbatim or shower thoughts to meghann.heinrich@wallawalla.edu to be featured!
Don’t say it.
© 2018 KYRA GREYEYES