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Much like unearthing that pint of mango sorbet I stored in the communal freezer three months ago and forgot about until last week, the realization that we only have two and a half more weeks of classes is simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. I have a superhuman amount of work to pack into the remainder of the month, and then I’m gonna hit summer running.
For Easter weekend, my parents rescued me from campus and drove me home. I stayed there just long enough to get a whole night of puppy snuggles on the couch before my mom, dad, and I committed ourselves to the five hour drive to Wenatchee, Washington to celebrate flowers and eggs and chocolate with the extended family. On Saturday, I experimented all sorts of techniques for dying eggs. Turns out, salt works much better with watercolours than it does with vinegar-based dyes. Oil makes fun things happen, though.
Passover roughly coincided with Easter, and Lewis & Clark hosted its annual Seder dinner on Tuesday. Any on-campus event that serves all its attendees cheap sugary wine in the name of religion is a successful event in my books. We sang songs in horribly mangled Hebrew, trippingly recited prayers and paragraphs, cheered for a skit featuring camelbacks and slang, and whapped each other with stalks of green onion. Each table was decorated for the plagues from the Passover story, and my table had frogs! (I walked out with an eyepatch from the “Darkness” table, too.) My favourite part of Seder is the orange slice on the Seder plate – the story behind the orange is that some significant and misogynistic Jewish man at some point in history got miffed and basically snarked, “There will be women rabbis when there is an orange slice on the Seder plate!” So, of course, we include a lovely sliver of citrus to remind ourselves that women are allowed to be rabbis now.
The intersections of gender, history, and religion are particularly fascinating to me. I just found out that I have been selected to Co-Chair the Gender Studies Symposium next year, and one of the potential Symposium themes we discussed at our meeting yesterday (we start planning the GSS over a year in advance) was gender and religion. We’re also toying with gender and psychology or medicalization or disability or health or…
I am meeting with one of my potential academic advisors next week to really get the ball rolling on my self-designed Gender Studies major plan. Class registration is this week, and as a sophomore I get shafted as far as registration priorities go. The Astronomy class I want to get into already has a waiting list, and the Spanish class I need has only three empty chairs. Basically, I’m a little bit doomed. I don’t get to register until tonight. Hopefully if I make the waitlists and if I show up to classes on the first day looking all eager and studious, the professors will let me stay. Most professors at Lewis & Clark are pretty good about letting extra students into their classes if you can pass yourself off as Serious Cat.
This upcoming weekend is what is colloquially known as “Prospie Weekend,” although I think Admissions calls it “Admitted Students Day” or something else official. I’m going to be caught up conducting a parade of extra tours swollen with more people than usual; trying to condense my final Qual Methods project into a cohesive 15-page ethnography; and spinning a half-hour presentation for Monday out of my final 8-page Judaism paper that I haven’t even started writing yet. Oh, and it’s Stumptown Comic Fest this weekend, which I will probably miss since I’ll be drowning in tours and homework. I’m looking forward to having no homework come May!
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