I spy a newbie...

There are the ones that are easy to spot (lanyards around their necks, campus maps in hand).

There are the ones that would blend right in but are still easy to spot because of their parents (running around Bed Bath & Beyond with the actual checklist the store offers online, pen in hand, wondering out loud if the outlet strip or the outlet with flexi-arms is really better...and in which color?).

And finally there are the ones who think they blend in, but are actually act so apathetic (oh too cool) that they stand out. Really, it's OK to care about your bedding, you are going to sleep on it most nights. And it doesn't make you cooler if you mock your parents when they ask you if you want a minifridge or a microfridge.

Without a doubt, they're the freshmen.

Because I remember my first day on campus (someone pointed me about a mile in the opposite direction of the most well-known class building...), I have a lot of sympathy for them. It's hard being alone in a new place, especially living in the dorms. And while the pictures of friends and family cover the walls and the rug on the floor covers the stains on the (kind of) carpet, you still remember the depressing image of the tiny cream colored room when you first unlocked the door. It's that sinking feeling of: I'm living here? Where do I put my stuff? Is that the closet?

We've all been there. We've all been a freshman. As classes start, I'm definitely going to keep my eyes peeled for any lost-looking little soul. I'll certainly help him out, by pointing him in the correct direction. I might even drop him a hint about wearing the lanyard around his neck. I mean if someone would have told me that lanyards were not OK a little sooner, I would have appreciated it. But I guess sometimes you just have to learn the hard way.

Sorpresa!

After a bittersweet departure from Atlanta on Saturday, I was quickly rewarded with a wonderful surprise on Sunday.

Jim made the journey from Georgia to Indiana to come visit Zionsville without telling me.

It was such a great and unexpected treat to be able to show him all around town and for him to meet my friends and family.

After he left, I couldn't help but become skeptical about those strange people who say they hate surprises.

I admit that I don't love it when someone thinks they are surprising me but I have actually already discovered the event. Because then I stress over how I should act when they unveil the "surprise" and I get all worried I won't seem grateful(/excited/surprised) enough.

However, a real live surprise is so wonderful.

Although it wasn't the same as Jim's arrival, I was also surprised to learn about Gap's third attempt to revitalize their stores this fall with designer Patrick Robinson.

I knew something was happening at Gap when the cast of Gossip Girl was recruited for a Christmas ad campaign in 2007. However, I didn't really see much of a change until I saw their new line this fall.While Gap is known for having strength in staples, I will be interested to see if Robinson will be to them what Lyons was to JCrew. (Think: Jenna Lyons made JCrew cool again, Patrick Robinson brought Gap out of the red...almost as catchy.)

With the right determination, I think it can be done. I mean, I'm not one for khaki, really, but I have found a slew of cute dresses there in my day. But don't tell anyone I shop there; it's not that cool yet.

Poor Mikey

"My goal is one Olympic gold medal. Not many people in this world can say, 'I'm an Olympic gold medalist.'" Michael Phelps

I feel bad for Michael Phelps.

I mean I'm not losing sleep over it, or anything. There are definitely people in this world I am more worried about.

But, at the same time, I do feel bad for him. I've felt this way most of the summer, as the United States has prepared for Beijing. However, last night, it reached an all-time high.

As I was watching the women's volleyball, I noticed a smiling face pop up in the corner of my TV. Below Phelps' grin, it read, "Countdown to Phelps: 30 minutes".

A bit later, NBC switched to men's gymnastics. Although the U.S. men's team was doing exceptionally well, exceeding all expectations, the focus was elsewhere. Again, the corner of the TV told me: "Countdown to Phelps: 9 minutes".

It seems that no matter what, the nation's focus is on one thing: Phelps winning eight gold medals. Even the standard competition schedule for swimming was changed to the morning, just so Phelps would be on prime time. And although he has never mentioned the idea of winning eight golds, the idea seems to have stuck (to say the least).

The reason I feel so bad for him, though, is that the whole world is watching, waiting to see if he'll win eight golds. If he only wins seven, does that mean he's a failure?

Most medal winners would kill for seven golds.
Most Olympians would kill for one gold- or even a silver or bronze.
Most athletes would kill to go to the Olympics...

...and yet, if Phelps doesn't win eight golds, he's failed us. If he wins seven golds and one silver, he didn't accomplish his(/our) goal. Even if he breaks his own personal record when winning the silver, he doesn't get the million dollar bonus Speedo has promised him.

Granted, he'd still receive $190,000 in bonuses for seven golds and one silver, but that seems like pocket change compared to a mill (he couldn't even take a trip to the moon with that amount of money. Please.)

I realize that the fame, endorsements and excitement surrounding what he is doing is probably well worth the pressure of winning eight golds, especially for someone so capable of doing so. I just want Michael to know that even if he only ends up winning the golds he currently has, I'd still be impressed. I'd love to tell him this myself, but he's been hard to reach lately. He must be busy.

plane crazy

There is no doubt in my mind that the services airlines provide are declining. The seats are cramped. Nine out of ten times, the flights are delayed. You have to pay to check a bag. Sometimes, snacks are no longer free...it's heartbreaking.
However, until this weekend, I was not aware of the fact that the passengers on airplanes are also getting stranger.

As I waited to go to the bathroom on my flight to Boston, a woman emerged from the stall. She was wearing very dark, large sunglasses. I looked around the flight to see if maybe it was brighter than I realized, however, she was definitely the only one wearing shades on the plane. Only seconds later, a man emerged wearing even larger headphones. They were similar to the ones musicians wear in the recording studio. I thought the two made quite the unnecessarily accessorized bathroom team.

A few short minutes later, when I emerged from the restroom, I noticed another interesting character. He was a small man (I like to call him Roger in my head. He looked like a Roger) sitting Indian style on the very edge of his seat...meditating. He was meditating right there on Delta 710.

I admit, I thought these three incidents were a little strange. However, the final straw came on my return flight Sunday morning.

It's been said that the most effective time to fall asleep on a plane is during take off because of decreased oxygen levels and an increased G-force (I couldn't make that up). So, being the failure of a napper that I am, I entered my return flight determined to fall asleep. Before the plane even started moving, I closed my eyes and put my head back on the seat. I thought if I was fully-relaxed before take off even commenced, maybe just maybe, I would be successful.

As I sat there, trying to calm my mind, the boy to my left started talking to me. He said, "Take off scares me too." So I opened my eyes and smiled and told him that I was hoping I could fall asleep, but yes, I agree, take off is scary.

After the plane took off and we'd reached the ideal level of elevation, I was still in the same position, thinking about the fact that I was a total plane-sleeping-failure. All of the sudden, my seat reclined. I opened my eyes to discover that the scaredy-cat next to me had reached over my lap to try and help me get my snooze on...he'd put my seat back for me.

He was sitting there, smiling, proud of his kind gesture. So, naturally, all I could do was thank him for the help. Of course, this only led to an extensive conversation about his home town (Dubai), what he was doing in Boston (he just completed his freshman year), where he was going (Irvine, CA), why he was going there (he was transferring schools because he had gotten very low grades this year. very low) and what he was hoping to do with his life (start a business similar to his parents, because his family is very very wealthy, though he is not spoiled...).

Needless to say, I did not take a nap (surprise surprise).

I can only imagine what would have happened if my chatty, but helpful, friend had gotten seated next to Roger the meditator. He probably would have mistaken Roger's closed eyes for a nap-attempt, and out of the kindness of his heart, reclined his seat and started chatting away.

Roger's focus would have been completely broken, and he'd have to ask Mr. Big Headphones from the bathroom to borrow them in order to drown out the stories from the neighboring chatterbox. Maybe the crazy sunglasses lady would have offered up her shades to Roger, just so he could maximize his meditation. It would be such an unlikely and beautiful turn of events: they'd all join together like the crazy little passengers they are. You can't blame them, really. In these rough times that airlines are offering us, we passengers have got to stick together.