thestoryofjory.com

Frosh Meets World
Tale of Two Cities

Yesterday I mentioned some about my quaint little hometown, Noble, Oklahoma. It’s not a terribly big place, although we do have lots of neat things like a set of stoplights to make other towns like Sentinel, Oklahoma a bit jealous. We have a little grocery store, an Ace Hardware, two separate dollar stores and a pharmacy. We even have a few claims-to-fame; Besides having the renowned Thunder Valley Race Track and Kendall’s Restaurant, we just so happen to be the Rose Rock Capital of the World, which we celebrate by crowning a Rose Rock Queen and hosting a soccer tournament complete with parade and carnival. That’s about all you’ll see if you take a drive down Main Street because everything else is “out in the boon-docks”, including my house.

Most of the time I like to joke about the distance from my house to the nearest Walmart, but truthfully I wouldn’t trade it for the world. In the country it doesn’t matter what you wear to go outside and do chores, because no one sees you anyway. If you decide to play paintball with neon paint, it’s okay because you don’t have to worry about hitting your neighbor’s house, and there are plenty of trees to hide behind. Kids can play in the street because no one drives down them, and you can shoot fireworks off anytime of the year. Rover has room to run, you can play loud music and there’s more parking space. Country life is nice.

And then I moved here. I’m not saying Stillwater is big-city or anything ridiculous like that, but the other day my friend Evan and I rode our bikes to the Walmart Super-Center from the dorm in about 10 minutes. A trip like that back home would’ve taken two days! And here there are sidewalks all over the place…we didn’t even get our high school parking lot paved until my Junior year! It has taken a lot of adjusting to get used to life in town, but I think I’m making the transition well. I’m not complaining about all the construction going on at 6:00 am RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, and I’ve only been hit by a crazed biker once. Heck, I’ve even learned how to cross the street (I thought the loud noise emitted by the ‘walk’ signal was just a very shrill bird). Just a side-note: Is it true that if you are hit by a car while in the crosswalk you will get your college paid for?

I’m actually beginning to like living in close proximity to everything else. It doesn’t take all day to do errands in town, and most of the time I can ride my bike everywhere (country kids don’t get to ride bikes very often; we spend more time on four-wheelers). Theta Pond is a lot prettier than the couple of ponds in our pastures, although the cleanliness of the water could be debated. I could do without people jumping up and down on the floor above me while I’m completing homework, but then again if I were back home my sisters would probably be doing the same.

All the Best,
Jordana

originally posted September 9, 2002

Frosh Meets World
My Best Friend’s Wedding

I missed the first home football game of my first year at college. Most would consider an act of that magnitude sacrilegious, but I have an excuse. You see, out of any day of the year my best friend Lisa could’ve chosen as the one she will celebrate her anniversary on, she chose September 7 at 7:00 pm for the ceremony (see ya next year, Northern Iowa), September 6 at 6:30 pm for the rehearsal (anyone want to buy an Orange Peel ticket?), and her best friend Jordana as her Maid of Honor (I really didn’t want to see the silly concert anyway). It doesn’t bother me that much because I managed to sell my ticket, but it adds salt to the wound to have to hear everyone talking about how awesome it was. Hope you all had fun. I hate you.

Actually, the fact that I missed all the fun college festivities doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the fact that one of my best friends just married her high school sweetheart less than four months after graduation. It’s not that I don’t approve of her husband, because I think he’s great; it’s just that I’ve known this girl since the third grade. We tied for worst girl-scout member of troop 239 in the 4th grade, went to 4-H events together in 5th grade, tried to form our own singing group in 6th, and planned to come to OSU to be pre-vet med students in Junior High. We also rode horses and barrel raced together, played basketball and joined FFA. We were always highly competitive with one another; an aspect that nearly ruined our friendship but in the end helped us both turn out for the best. We even celebrate our birthdays around the same time every year – she is only a month ahead of me, and by getting married she is suddenly making me feel very old (I’m only 18 – I just now got the right to vote!). I don’t know how I’m going to cope with being a graduate student.

I honestly had a great time last weekend. Lisa and I had such a blast goofing around at the rehearsal that the wedding coordinator asked if we were drunk, and if we planned to be at the wedding. The next morning I picked her up for our hair appointments; but it really just felt like we were getting ready for Prom. A short burst of rain just before the outdoor wedding delayed us for a few minutes, but Lisa stayed calm by cracking jokes and having the bridesmaids sing along with the radio. I did my job as Maid of Honor; keeping her dress and veil smoothed out. After the rain subsided and the sun returned every one moved outside, and I walked behind my friend holding her train so the wet grass wouldn’t soil it. Before the wedding I was given the groom’s ring, which I held onto for dear life and prayed I wouldn’t drop in the water. Even by the time the wedding was about to start, the fact that Lisa Marie Meyer was about to become Mrs. Justin Carpenter still hadn’t set in. It was fun, stressful, and sad all at the same time. While I’m sure we’ll always keep in touch, my name will be on her marriage certificate for as long as it lasts, and that’s a weird thought.

The bottom line is that marriage is for old people; that is unless you just really want someone to dress up and coat your vehicle in shaving crème and shoe polish.

All the best,
Jordana

originally posted September 10, 2002

Frosh Meets World
Dual Meanings

Sometimes I just don’t think. When I miss something because I’m off in a daze, people laugh and assume I’m a blond at heart. I’m not a blond; I’m just not listening/looking/paying attention to you. It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that there are so many words, like ‘thong’ for example, that have two separate meanings. If your dad tells you you’ve left your thongs on the back porch, he probably doesn’t mean stringy underwear. On the flip side, if your best girlfriend is whining that you can see her thong, she’s talking about her Vickies. A guy or girl can be ‘Hot’, and so can the temperature. You can dump trash or you can dump your other. It’s all just a matter of phonetics. However if you don’t happen to be paying attention to unique vocabulary, you can land yourself into a bit of a pinch (there’s another word with two meanings!).

Take for example the lesson I learned on my third day of freedom at Oklahoma State. I was in a state of blissful ignorance toward just about everything that was going on when my friends and I were about to pass a very nicely decorated table near the Student Union. Because I tend to have the attention span of a 10 year old, and the colorful little poster simply said ‘Soda’, I figured I could talk to the people and they would give me a coke. After all, back in Noble, America, a sign that says ‘Soda’ means just that – coke.

Wrong. As I approached the table to chat with the three guys behind it (one of them was kind of cute), the thought never dawned on me that guys don’t usually sit behind a table decorated in rainbow colored balloons and posters, trying desperately to give away candy. Either my friends were much quicker on the uptake, or they had already fallen for the group’s clever play on words, because they didn’t want any soda. I walked away from the table without a coke and also without a clue why anyone would advertise soda when in fact they had none. Then it suddenly occurred to me – what if soda meant something else? “Joe,” I asked my sophomore friend, “Does soda stand for something?”

I honestly feel that my mistake was a very innocent one, with no ill will or teasing intended. It’s just that we don’t have a local chapter of the Sexual Orientation Diversity Association back home. I think it’s probably because we have so many churches. I think the OSU-Stillwater SODA club is doing a good thing in trying to get their name out and boost memberships. I only hope they don’t get offended by all the thirsty, oblivious people out there.

All the Best,
Jory

originally posted on September 11, 2002