sealed with a... pee

Of all the things I remain bitter about regarding my undergraduate experience (and there are really only two, or perhaps two and a half, but I make up for the low number with the fervor of my unending bitterness), the worst offense is that I graduated in a megachurch.

See, Millsaps seniors traditionally graduate in a big green grassy area known as the Bowl (named for its gently sloping sides, not for what is sometimes smoked there by students... and occasionally teachers). It is a treasure to behold.

I don't remember whose Twitter I saved this from, but I hope its okay that I use your photo skillz...

And in the center is The Seal of Millsaps College. What is neat about The Seal (and the Bowl in general) is that on the night freshmen are formally inducted into the college, they process through the Bowl and across The Seal before taking their seats. And then, four years later, they make the same procession in front of god and everybody to receive their diploma.

Like most colleges, there is an urban myth that if you step on The Seal as an undergrad, you won't graduate. But ours is clearly superior because of our matriculation/graduation tradition.

A lot of people didn't really care about such silly myths, but a good portion of the campus avoided stepping on The Seal. I, being a sucker for tradition, meticulously circumvented it even in my stumbliest trips back to the dorm. For four years, I didn't put a single toe on The Seal so that on graduation morning, I would be ready to feel its full glory.

Unfortunately, it came to be that around 3:00 a.m. on graduation morning the skies opened up and let loose torrents of water, and I awoke to lightening and an email saying graduation had moved to the rain location.

Which was a megachurch.*

There was a lot of 6:00 a.m. bitching with my roommate Tait and continued bitterness throughout the morning, particularly after it stopped raining and turned into basically the most perfect Bowl weather imaginable about an hour before commencement (too late to switch the location back).

There was only one tiny ray of light in the change: that I got to hear what remains one of my favorite quotes from college. As we were getting dressed and bitching and doing our hair and bitching, Tait finally just burst out, "I want to graduate where we peed!"

See, a couple weeks earlier, after passing comprehensive exams and therefore finishing essentially all the hard work required of a second-semester senior, Tait and I packed a backpack full of PBR and went out to the Bowl late one night to sit by The Seal, drink and reminisce. It was a great night. But you know what happens with beer, and eventually we needed to take care of some pressing needs. However, it being some obscure hour of the wee morn (wee, ha!), all the buildings were locked. So we did the classy thing and took turns going off behind a giant tree to the side of the Bowl. And then we laughed and drank some more.

And come graduation day, Tait's outburst pretty much perfectly, succinctly summed up why the Bowl represents so much of the Millsaps experience.

But we didn't graduate where we peed. We graduated in a megachurch.

And since I moved out and away the day of graduation, I never got to go back to visit the Bowl or to step on The Seal to make it official.

This is not me. This is Brian. Of course HE got to graduate in the Bowl.  Jerk.

All this is on my mind because I realized today that I went ALL the way back to Millsaps for Founder's Day weekend and FORGOT TO GO STEP ON THE SEAL. Y'all. I still have not stepped on that thing. At this rate I'm going to have to go stand on it in my wedding dress or something.

Which only makes me want to say, "I want to get married where we peed!"


* I don't mean to offend churches or religion here. Just megachurches, which are an eyesore and whose largeness makes it impossible to form true community and generally makes me itch. 

Sex Ed

This past weekend, three of my closest friends and I went to a sex museum in NYC. For scholarly reasons.

No, really.

Allow me to explain.

Although I was an English major in college, I was an “everything else” minor. I took random classes in nearly every discipline, from math to chemistry to fine art, and although I loved my major, some of these random classes ended up being some of my favorites. One such class was a Philosophy course called Sexual Ethics.

I took the class with the same three friends I was with this weekend (one of whom was a Philosophy major and encouraged us to take the class because of her love of the professor who taught it*). Sexual Ethics was one of the best classes I took all four years of my undergraduate career, not just for the ample quotes it provided my inner twelve-year-old boy to snicker at, but because it was a legitimately fascinating, difficult, scholarly course that taught me to think in a different way about people, gender, relationships, the law and life.

But it’s my bestie Tait who provides what is probably my favorite memory of the class. Never one to waste ink or page space, Tait simply wrote “sex” in her planner every Tuesday and Thursday along with the other classes she was taking that semester. One day in a sorority chapter meeting, Mary Mitchell Williams saw Tait flipping through her planner, leaned over and whispered, “Do you schedule sex?!”

At Millsaps, I guess you never know.

* Who happens to be bald, gay and a complete genius.

Ode to a Taiter

So my bestie Tait is engaged!!!

And in honor of getting to see her/coo over her ring/talk about wedding things nonstop this coming weekend I’d like to take this moment to wander down memory lane in poetry form. Sorry in advance, Taiter.

ODE TO A TAITER

Once upon a freshman year, while I stumbled with a beer,
In Sanderson Hall in the Millsaps Bubble sphere
There I met Taiterweiner, my curly-haired dear

I knew at once we had something special
...Too bad nothing rhymes with "special"

what's going on here? are we on the phone to each other?
....I feel like that's something we would do

We bonded over many a Heritage test
Because for nerdy things we are both obsessed
(Even if we went a little crazy when we got stressed)

In NOLA we cemented our friendship
Between demolishing houses and Bourbon St. on a CMT trip

We bunked together in Isla Mujeres, Mexico
And I got to snuggle with a sexy mo
(I'm talking about you, you know)

you are totally flirting with me right now

There were costumes, pranks, formals and dancing shoes

But the best was when we partied in muu muus

Sophomore year things were mostly devine
Especially when we discovered a mutual love of wine

(The theme of the surprise party you threw me for the big one-nine!)

We busted melons as the Spice Girls with our crushes of rush

And put our faces on shirts with fab airbrush

Junior year we played the suitie game

And got way too busy doing our own things – lame!

But no matter how things changed, some things were always the same

Senior year was filled with crafts, laughs and (of course) booze

A freak snowstorm, Stewart/Colbert and debating religion news

what do these things have to do with each other?
I don't know.

But through the years of vodka, tequila and Dom

(I mean Andre), there was one constant – vom

You vommed in the dorm, vommed at frat houses
Vommed in Mexico and possibly on some trousers
After your 21st you vommed for five hours - wowzas!

there's something on your shorts, ma'am

Somehow, together, we survived Millsaps nation

Best friends from freshman year to graduation

Now you're in New York, with your man and a new ring

And I'm so happy for you that I could sing!

(Just don't get any vom on your bling)

you're gonna marry that man!

I tease, but only because I love you Tait, and my love is hearty
I can’t wait to hold your hair after your bachelorette party.