Shuffle Up and Deal

Looking through all the posts, I really was surprised by the absence of any Residence Life perspectives (for those of you unfamiliar with the Puget Sound lingo, Residence Life basically equates to RAs). As there are over fifty RAs—or other acronym varieties such as RCCs or GHCs—on campus, I expected at least one to have beat me to the Official Puget Sound blog. Alas, that burden falls on my shoulders.

First of all, for all you who are still wondering what an RA is, here is the definition from ResidentAssistant.com:

  1. 1. A RA, is a student who lives in a university residential facility and acts as a resource for the students on their floor or in their area of the building.
  2. 2. RAs play a key role in creating an environment for students that is conducive to academic, personal and social growth.
  3. 3. RAs develop social, academic and cultural activities for their residents.  A RA is a friend, resource, mentor, role model and community leader in their hall.
  4. 4. RAs develop strong leadership and interpersonal skills which build them into strong leaders and give them skills they can use for the rest of their lives.

These are the ideal characteristics, but label “RA” usually is accompanied by a variety of unflattering connotations, such as the “Fun Police” or “Dorm Cops.” Since RAs have the unfortunate job of making sure the residents are abiding by school policy—which includes no alcohol or drugs—the “us against them” mentality is a hurdle any RA must deal with.

Now, every RA takes a different approach to getting acquainted with his/her respective floor(s). Some will go door-to-door with cookies or gifts. Some will make it a point to formally introduce themselves to each resident on the first day with a handshake. Some will just leave their door open and hope that the residents wander in.

And some play poker.

For the past two years, I’ve had an all-male floor; thus, the dynamics I have to work with are much different than most RAs. Personally, I have grown up around card games. I learned Bridge, Hearts and Cribbage before I was seven years old. I am the four-time defending champion of our family’s annual Thanksgiving Cribbage Tournament. I enjoy pretty much any card game, from Rummy, Gin, 500, Pinochle, Spades, Five Crowns, etc. etc. etc. And only a few years back, I discovered poker—perhaps the most socially-enjoyable game of them all.

The champion of the first tournament

So poker became a weekly thing on my floors. Residents would come out, enjoy each other’s company, trade a bit of banter, and compete for a spot in the End-of-Semester Tournament. (Video links will be posted at the end).

Spring Semester 2010 Championship Game

That worked great last year, but this year’s floor preferred another game: Hearts. An RAs job is not to tailor the floor to his/her own interests; rather, it is an RAs job to cater to the floor’s interests. So this year, while I didn’t personally participate as much as last year (partly due to my other commitments), the floor played Hearts on an almost daily basis. At least for my floors over the past two years, cards have been an integral part of the community.

Hearts Championship, Fall 2010

And like last year, we still have End-of-Semester Hearts Tournaments. You better believe that I’m hungry for another victory a few weeks from now.
(Important Note: No money is ever exchanged at these games–they are played strictly for the ‘love of the game’ and ‘competitive spirit’)

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Studying in Friday Harbor

Algae and my hand.

Since this blog is supposed to be about my “studying abroad”, here’s some of that.

I am taking classes through the University of Washington in Friday Harbor on San Juan Island. I am in three classes: invertebrate zoology, marine botany, and a research apprenticeship class. We spend about eight hours a day in lecture and lab, and take a lot of cool field trips. Our lab is right on the ocean and the spring weather has been improving everyday. Which are all things you already know.

Since I like making lists, here are some of the cool things I’ve done at FHL (Friday Harbor Labs).

Baby Pacific red octopus that tried to kill me.

1. Earlier in the quarter, we got the chance to release a baby Pacific octopus that had been caught accidentally in a trawl. I, of course, volunteered to walk the little guy down to the docks, his skin flashing red and white and changing texture as the water sloshed in his bucket. We met some students from another class along the way and stopped to show off our cephalopod friend. My TA kept joking that he was too poisonous to touch, though he just looked like he wanted an octopus cuddle. Finally, I gently lowered his tub into the water; he looked relieved to have fresh, cold water on him, but he wouldn’t budge from his corner. So, I reached down to give him some encouragement, and my TA yelled, “Nooooooooooooooo!” Slow-mo, I swear.

Apparently he wasn’t kidding about the poison thing.

No, this story does not end with octopus beak embedded in my arm and molluscan neurotoxins flooding my brain. I kind of wish it did. (Two things I secretly hope to accomplish/experience: bear attack, octopus bite.) Instead, I poked him nicely out with a stick and he stayed around the surface showing off his swimming skills for a while, until finally jetting away.

Rowing to town.

2. One of the other adorable activities at FHL is the lab row boats. The lab has had row boats available to its students since before there was a lab. It is a lovely tradition that we are allowed to continue, rowing across our small harbor for day-trips to town or just a small bout on the water.

Transect survey at Cattle Point, San Juan Island.

3. Another tradition of Friday Harbor is the many continuing-research projects set up at the labs and around the islands. Ecology projects always want to take decades to find answers, and here at FHL, that actually happens. We spent a day sampling transects at beaches on the island, adding to a data set that began in 1989 after the Exxon Valdez oil spill. The project aims to record the “undisturbed” state of ecological communities in this region for comparison if things end up “disturbed” (eg. another oil spill, global climate change, invasive species). Our names will never be in any publications, but it’s good to know we contributed to some larger understanding.

Tritonian, or "diamond back", nudibranch.

4. There are SO many nudis! I think I’ve seen about a dozen nudibranch species here. I even got to watch one dorid poop sponge spicules right out of his dorsal anus whilst I was examining him under a dissecting scope. May not be your idea of a good time, but I enjoyed it. Things tend to poop when I look at them under the microscope…

A spot prawn caught on our trawl aboard the Centennial.

5. There are deer, foxes, otters, and other various wildlife who live with us at FHL. They are not bashful and provide nice lecture distraction on a sunny day.

A perfect day for a research cruise.

6. I think I just like numbers because then I don’t need transitions. We get to use the lab’s real boats, too. We spent a day on the Centennial, a converted commercial fishing boat, doing trawls and grabs, and catching all sorts of exciting invertebrates to look at. It was the first sunny spring day, and the water was perfectly calm except for the harbor seals playing along side us. A quite different experience than my last time on a research vessel.

This is the mossy knoll just outside the library, locally referred to as "heaven".

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MUCUS and other wonders of the physical world

Zoobots aboard the Centennial at Friday Harbor Labs. We were trawling for spot prawns on the first real sunny day of spring. Perfect.

Re-inspired by a recent encounter with a stranded banana slug, I think it is finally time to bring to life a blog that I started in January. It’s time to tell the story of the advent of Mary Krauszer’s love of and practical advice about mucus.

The beginning:

Some time last fall, ailed by a particularly potent bout of the common cold, and inspired by the variability of the gelatinous excretions of my persistent congestion, I think I literally had mucus on the brain – or is that meningitis?

Then these glorious glycoproteins started showing up in all my classes. Respiration in my Comparative Animal Physiology class required a medium across which to diffuse gas, making mucus imperative to most oxygen-consuming life.

The motile marine invertebrates in the first-year biology class I TA-ed needed a way to traverse the wet and varied ocean floor, smearing mucus everywhere they went to enable locomotion.

The miraculous lungfish discussed in Vertebrate Biology survived the droughts of Africa and South America by secreting a  mucus cocoon and remaining underground for years until adequate rainfall returned (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqWciuuKn3c).

Mucus makes the world go around.

And thus, I discovered my new life goal: I will be a PhD of Mucunology. Ok, so that probably isn’t a word, but I need to convey the profundity of this epiphany. The wonders of mucus are endless and I could spend my whole career exploring them.

Banana slugs! http://www.flickr.com/photos/bclife/105671238/in/pool-806927@N20/

Things I have discovered about mucus thus far:

1. Banana slug mucus DOES NOT WASH OFF. Seriously. Hot water and soap has nothing on that stuff. Someone better be figuring out what it is made of, because that is an impressive substance and I bet we could solve some world problems with it. And now you’re asking, “what were you doing with slug mucus on your fingers, Mary?” Saving its life, duh.

2. Mucus is easy to make, keeps you healthy and safe, and can be used as a measure of character.

There are a plethora of marine animals that use mucus as a defense, sometimes just oozing it out by the bucket-load because it really isn’t that expensive. Metabolically expensive, that is. In fact, animals such as hagfish and slime stars use mucus to save themselves from the grips of predators, by literally making themselves hard to hold on to (http://www.metacafe.com/watch/1597296/hagfish_and_the_disgusting_slime/ and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWL8A4-FdY4). These animals secrete a pretty cheap protein that is hydrated by the water around them and forms a thick, translucent slime.

In an outreach project at the elementary school here at Friday Harbor, I demonstrated a slime star to sixth graders. It was a morning of crowd control, as the students wanted little else from my Echinoderm table than to cover themselves and each other with slime. Sadly, the terrified slime star had transformed basically all of the water in its container to slime long before the demonstration was over and we had to dial back the enthusiasm. But speaking of enthusiasm, a student’s willingness to experience the mucus of the slime star was directly related to their willingness to participate in the educational portion of my presentation. Those students who squirmed and squealed also didn’t pay attention and probably couldn’t tell you the distinguishing features of their Asteroidea class.

3. However, somewhat to the contrary, it is not a socially-appealing fact to share that you “like mucus”. Yeah, I did that in one of those “tell us your name and something interesting about yourself” sessions at the beginning of my study abroad program. Apparently it took me a while to recover from that one, but then I showed them the slug sex video and started over at square one.

Larvacean, the wormy thing with a big head. Actually a solitary tunicate.

4. Mucus is good for eating. Well, mucus is good for catching stuff that you can then eat. The larvacean is a free-swimming tunicate that basically looks like the baby alien in the movie Alien, with a creepy head and an alarmingly twitchy, wormy back-end. This weird zooplankter spends its life floating around and secreting an elaborate mucus filter larger than its own body and catching other plankters for eating. This method is very efficient and these aquatic aliens do quite well, especially around spring blooms like the one pictured here in the plankton tow I collected on Tuesday.

5.There is no verb for the action of producing mucus. I’m going to make one up when I’m a famous biologist.

6. You ‘mucate’ (copyright Mary Krauszer) when you are sick, not because that is what a cold does to you, but because your body’s immune system needs to clear out all the junk it’s been making and/or killing, so it doesn’t just sit around in your system. What better plunging apparatus than a gelatinous goo that both flows and holds garbage quite nicely?

Sorry if you’ve heard this all from me before. Perhaps, I really am a one-trick pony. One slimy trick.

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Cue The Nostalgia

9 days until Relay For LIfe. 13 days until the Last Day of Classes. 22 days until Finals are over. And 24 days until Graduation. Can you feel the nostalgia kicking in already?

I’ve said all year that, when May 15th comes, I won’t go kicking and screaming. I think that college is 4 years for a reason. It’s not to say that I have not LOVED every moment at Puget Sound, or that I won’t miss everyone here… but I’m also so excited for the next stages. I’m still in the process of applying for admissions jobs, so I’m not totally sure where I’ll be next year, but I’m excited for it! I’m looking forward to having my own office, cooking my own food, decorating my own apartment, and making more friends in a new city.

But, as I usually do when I’m nearing the end of any experience, I’ve been thinking a lot about what exactly makes Puget Sound so special. It’s a trait – or a feeling – that is difficult to put into words because it has everything to do with the people on this campus. I can tell stories about doing the crossword with our professor in class, or impromptu trips to Sonic for slushies late at night with friends, or the audience’s standing ovation at the end of last week’s Concert Band & Wind Ensemble concert. These things don’t quite tap into the passion that connects all of the students on campus. There’s something – a love for this place and these people – that make us more than just a campus of 2,600 people. It makes us a community of learners and people who want to improve the world around us.

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When You Give a Kid a Camera…

And you thought this blog was going to be entirely about ASUPS? Well, I guess I gave you ample reason to believe that—but fear not! There are plenty (errr…at least a few) other things in my life worth posting on a blog for the entire world to read about. Such as Kids Can Do!

Look how safe I am, two hands on the wheel...

I’ve been a part of Kids Can Do since the beginning of this year, and it has been one of the more rewarding experiences I’ve had at Puget Sound. It is a mentoring program sponsored by CIAC (Community Involvement & Action Center) that pairs current students with kids around the greater Tacoma area. Basically, I get to hang out with this awesome 8-year-old (his birthday was two months ago, and I may or may not have attended his party) once a week.

I guess he was hungry.

While there are some deep conversations and life-changing moments for both of us, it usually is just us spending a few hours each weekend finding fun activities to do. Almost every time I walk away with new energy and optimism—which is good, since I usually have to spend the rest of the day doing homework.

Hide and Go Seek, anyone?

Anyways, since you’re probably tired of reading about it, how about some visuals? I can honestly say that I didn’t take any of these–they were all courtesy of an 8-year-old with an incredible knack for capturing truly-scintillating moments (such as the one below of Brendan Witt, for some reason looking away from the field).

His first Lacrosse game!

(I’m not going to post his name and/or any pictures of him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy photos that he took!)

No clue what this was...

(Hope you enjoyed this week’s post!)

Until next time,
Marcus

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Marine Biology Camp

Nemertean worm from False Bay mudflats. Shout out to Megan Schwarz.

Remember summers when you were a kid? I’m talking single digits. Morning cartoons, fruity cereal, chewable vitamins, no responsibility, no job. Nothing to do with your time but play outside or contemplate your belly button. You were so unoccupied, in fact, that your parents had to find something to do with you during the time the public education system normally took you off their hands. So they sent you to summer camp.

Any  summer camp. Soccer camp, wilderness camp, band camp, karate camp, fat camp (is that real?), unicycling camp, golf camp, FROLF camp, karate-FROLF-on-a-wilderness-unicycle-for-musical-fat-kids-camp.

Look how cute I was when I was 14. Eatin' starfish.

Well,  I went to science camp (and band, bible, and art camp, but that’s not what this is about).

They shipped me off to the Alaska Summer Research Academy. Ok, so I was actually a freshman in high school, but I was arguably as worldly as a nine year old, and more distant nostalgia makes a better intro.

Regardless, I attended the ASRA for two summers, focusing on aquatic (freshwater) and marine studies. They were two of the best summers of my life, wrought with education, growth, field-trips, liquid nitrogen, nerd love, pissing reindeer, “‘Cool Science”, etc. I never thought I would be back.

Diggin' in worm poop 2005.

Diggin' in worm poop 2011.

And yet, at twenty years old, deeply entrenched in debt and hardened by the harsh realities of college life (like caffeine and grocery shopping), here I am. At marine biology camp.

Pretty much.

Really I am at the Friday Harbor Marine Laboratories on San Juan Island in Washington taking classes and doing research, but it feels like summer camp. In the good ways, plus more freedom and higher tuition.

Looking at nori 2005. (Well, that's not me.)

Looking at nori 2011. (Yeah, that's me.)

We spend our 8-hour class days in lecture and lab, or traipsing around the island collecting organisms and observing diverse habitats. And the ASRA memories keep flowing back.

And here is where you say, ‘of course you went to science camp when you were a child, Mary. You’re the biology girl and always have been.’ Wrong.

In high school I wanted to be a writer, or a gender studies major. If you had asked me at science camp what I wanted to study in college, I would have told you ‘anything but science’. I’d never even taken a biology class until after I got to Puget Sound and declared a biology major. It’s funny how things end up.

At the time, I thought of science camp as little more than the alternative to discovering a wormhole my belly button, and by that I mean boredom or a summer job. Now I know it was practical training for my current academic program and desired career.

Not all cases of one’s past coincidentally improving one’s future are so concrete, but I do think it is a frequent occurrence.

The pissing reindeer.

I find it remarkable how things I thought were irrelevant, or minimally significant at best, have shaped my life. Experiences and endeavors I thought were pointless or random at the time have made me what I am today. And I suppose that is how you build a life. The stuff you do, for whatever the reason and however you think it may or may not affect you, builds an experience, a perspective, a person.

Thus, as I approach a summer where all my plans have been squashed by the omnipotent thumb of the universe, and I may end up doing something that I don’t find immediately relevant to my current life goals and plans, I’ll be open and optimistic; whatever I do will be enriching and beneficial in some way, and relevant some day.

Which my parents have really been telling me for years.

I solemnly swear to never again perm my hair. But I just can't quit the hipwaders.

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Learning on the Go

Spring Break was the first time it hit me.

Spring Break began two days after our inauguration. Inauguration was incredible—both my parents came up, great food was served, President Thomas gave a unique introduction (you had to be there), thank-you’s and pats-on-the-back were shared around the room, and everyone left feeling good, excited about what was to come.

Two days later, on a Saturday morning, I keyed into the office at 9:00am. I had been in a few times before, but this time the office was empty. I went to my office, sat down behind my desk, and began to _______.

No amount of transition or instruction beforehand can adequately prepare you for this position. It is a learn-on-the-go job. Many jobs work like this, with the expectation often being that with time one will improve his/her performance.

But the ASUPS President (and all other Exec positions, for that matter) has only one year in office, and needs to figure it out on the go, diving in immediately. And at that moment, sitting in my empty office at the beginning of Spring Break, I realized how steep the learning curve was going to be.

It's Gotten Easier to Use This

And a month later, I’m happy to say that a lot of the discomfort has faded away. It doesn’t weird me out anymore to sit at a desk with my name embossed on a placard sitting across it, or to hand my business card to someone rather than writing down my contact information. As I mentioned in my last blog, self-aggrandizing is not a natural characteristic of mine; thus, getting acclimated to the little things like business cards and placards was a symbolic stepping stone to feeling comfortable in meetings with President Thomas and Dean Segawa.

A Rare Sighting of President Thomas from my Office Window

It hasn’t been without its fair share of bumps and bruises, though. The balancing of school, ASUPS and ResLife is quite a tall order, one that tends to induce much more stress than I’m used to. Hiring is an exciting process for those you get to ask to be part of your team, but it is never easy to turn away capable candidates who were enthusiastic to be part of ASUPS. And in the past week, I got to experience firsthand the limitations of the public forum for my job.

After being drastically misquoted in The Trail and inaccurately painted as intolerant of the LBGTQ community, my gut reaction was to defend both ASUPS and myself as loudly and publicly as I could. Personally, I am not one to let my character be attacked without defending it (I don’t believe I’m alone); however, my personal instincts had to be set aside. Instead of shouting back, I decided—after talking to multiple mentors—to turn the cheek and take the hit without responding. It was more important not to let the issue escalate, and to remember that it was not worth risking relationships that our administration still looks forward to building upon collaboratively in the future. There was a better, more productive way to go about resolving the issue–and I’m really happy with the way we ended up handling this.

It wasn’t easy, but looking back I truly believe that this is an example of the growth our administration has attained in its first month. Part of being a representative of the student body means placing the best interests of ASUPS and the student body in front of our own individual desires—no matter how hard it is at times.

...so we still goof around at times. so what?

I’m still learning how to do this job, just like the rest of our Exec team. The clock is ticking, and I have a feeling that March 10th, 2012 will come a lot faster than we could ever prepare for. But it’s nice to see evidence of progress, no matter how frustrating the job can be some days.

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The Road to Graduate School, Part IV

Visits… I mean interviews… I mean… wait what?

Yeah! Getting an interview means you’re past that first hurdle. They love you so much on paper that they want to meet you! That first interview invitation was one of the best moments of my life. For the first time, I knew it was going to happen; I was going to go to grad school. It’s a lot like that first undergraduate acceptance letter only somehow better because they’re only sending it to like 50 people (whereas undergraduate institutions send out 1000s). So yes you should feel special and yes you should feel proud if and when this happens. –high five-  <– This is me sending you a preemptive high five for when it happens. Save it for later. 🙂

Anyway, there is a bit of an issue with this part of my “Road to” blog. I really don’t know how to title it. Here’s the first problem with the title: Grad school visits/interviews aren’t really interviews. Here’s the second problem with it: Grad school visits/interviews aren’t really visits. And now you’re thinking, “Well, Kim has finally lost it and isn’t making any sense!!” Seriously though… it’s very confusing and I had no idea what I was in for on that first interview.

So here’s the thing. Part of visiting a grad program is to decide if you really want to go there. I mean you’ve only seen them on paper/the internet and that’s just not the same. This is the time where you see if your apprehensions about location are true, if you “fit in”, and if the science is all it’s cracked up to be. You can tell a lot about the overall feeling of a program just by spending those one or two days with current graduate students. You can also see if that professor you think you want to research with is as awesome as you thought (or not…). The first thing to remember about visits/interviews is that you need to be happy there. You’ll be at that institution and in that program for 5+ years for a PhD and the visit is the only chance you’ll get before moving there to really see what you’re getting yourself into. This isn’t just school; it’s your life and we all know no one plans to spend 24/7 alone in a lab.

The other part of this process is the interview. The second thing to remember about visits/interviews is that every program is a little bit different. Some really don’t focus on the interview. Their mentality is that they only want to pay for people to visit that they know they want to accept. These are the places where unless you totally screw up, you’re in. Now for other programs, it really is an interview. They’re paying for say 60 people to come out and will only offer for 30, maybe even only 15. And you can try to figure out which program fits into which category but trust me, it’s never accurate. Past graduate students/your professors knew how it was once done at a given program. It may not be the same anymore. And current graduate students don’t really get told how their program’s administration figures things out. They’re too busy trying to graduate, ha. The moral of this story is to treat every visit like an interview. Be yourself, put your best foot forward and what happens, happens.

And here’s yet another problem with my advice. DON’T FREAK OUT! Yes it’s an interview and that’s scary. But if they reject you after that, then you probably wouldn’t have been happy there anyway. It’s all about matching people to programs. You have to want them and they have to want you. I guess that’s how I reconciled the visit/interview idea. I went in like it was an interview but toned my fear down a bit by realizing that being myself was the best way for me (and the programs) to find the “right” students for them. You don’t really want to go to a place that doesn’t really, really, REALLY want you there, right?

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The Problem Child

It was pretty surreal. But not awesome.

In continuing my reflection on the Sea Education Association program that occupied the last three months of existence, let’s talk about the hard stuff.

Abstractly, sailing a tall ship and doing science research in the tropical Atlantic sounds pretty ideal. Sunsets and sunrises, moonlight on the water, an outdoor classroom, six weeks without the worry or distractions of life on land.

It should have been that romantic. I knew the whole time it should; but it wasn’t.

The struggle at its most basic, I believe, was the lack of control. Before my time at sea I didn’t think of myself as a control freak, but when you take every ounce and every second of my life out of my control, I sure respond like one.

First was the lack of physical control. I couldn’t sit still, I couldn’t stand still, I couldn’t  lie still. My body, incessantly trying to rebalance and resist the rocking, never came to rest, which translated to exhaustion and frustration.

I was also mentally out of control.

Me looking really happy about science.

At Puget Sound I was finally in a place where I knew some stuff about the stuff I was doing, and that felt good. Then I got to sea and none of those skill sets or random facts about gastropod sex meant anything. The learning curve aboard the Cramer was what you might call exponential, with three tons of non-quite-sticky-enough spaghetti. I often felt like I was the fat kid trying to run uphill to understand, and there were more noodles of knowledge thrown at us than could possibly all stick (even on my large surface area).

This feeling of ignorance would have been manageable, indeed I spend much of my time on land feeling ignorant about one thing or another (examples: global affairs, chemistry, geography, fashion, the college social life), except it never went away. Every time I thought I knew something, the routine changed or there was a new detail to consider. Understanding the big picture was out of the question, but I couldn’t even master the basics before the problem sets shifted and the lessons moved on. And everything was new. There were no small victories of familiar tasks; even the toilet flushing was a challenge.

The loss of control was complete, and the ignorance was perpetual.

I was unraveled. And then came the real problem: “staff leadership” is just another way to say “external control”.

So, you get me already on the edge with no way to unwind, and then you tell me to take my hat off at the dinner table. Go ahead, do it. See what happens.

Meet Mary Krauszer, the youngest child whose kindergarten teacher described as “different”. Meet Mary Krauszer, who evaded bullies in elementary school by not running away when they chased her, while the other girls squealed and fled. Meet Mary Krauszer, who sometimes asks your opinion so she can do the opposite. Meet Mary Krauszer who doesn’t give a hill of beans about you and your nonsensical, “it’s just boat culture” BS. I’ve never really been one who liked to be controlled.

Meet Mary Krauszer who will feel really, really bad about it later.

The dark and ominous Corwith Cramer.

Unraveled and reduced to my basics. All that patience and attitude-attenuating that “adult” life had taught me sat looming behind my tired eyes, just glowering disapprovingly on all my rash and childish actions. And thus, I felt worse.

I should probably mention that my perspective on the events aboard the Cramer are as one-sided and self-centered as you may expect of an account of ‘personal struggle’. I’m sure no one else aboard (especially the staff) saw me as the problem child. (I know, because I asked them.) But I sure felt like the problem child.

I wrote an “unpublishable” blog entry for the ship’s website (which you can read published here http://blogs.ups.edu/studentlife/2011/03/28/the-blog-that-sea-wouldnt-publish/). I refused to follow the proper procedure for passing the tutu from J-LO to J-LO at watch turn-overs (don’t worry about it if you don’t really understand that sentence). I threw a screaming, literally screaming, hissy fit on the science deck at 2 am, which the mate on duty walked into the midst of and promptly fled without interrupting. I never learned to tie a rolling hitch.

I was not the most composed or pleasant human I have ever been. But I tried to remain reflective. And thus began the walking identity crisis that disembarked from the Cramer, visited briefly at Puget Sound, and is now masquerading as a student in a new program.

In my very first blog entry about SEA back in January, I opened with the regular half-sarcasm, hyphen-riddled, Mary-Krauszer-list style, defining the “normal” study abroad experience as a “paradigm-shifting, character-challenging, horizon-expanding once-in-a-lifetime adventure”, and claiming that I, in avoiding such a fate, was instead going looking for sea monsters.

Perhaps, I am not altogether immune to normalcy. Or, more to my liking, perhaps the monster I found in the Atlantic latched on with its claws of repressed psychology and suckers of self-reflection and came home with me.

Which sounds like it would make a good Christopher More novel, but not a good last line.

Just to lighten the mood, here's a bunch of butts furling the mains'l.

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ASUPS leadership

Hey everyone.  I’m new at this whole journaling/blogging thing, so please have a bit of patience while I get my bearings over the first few posts.  I’m not really a technology whiz, and you can confidently expect more than a few HTML mishaps and mistakes.  Yet while I’m not usually a proponent of the “practice makes perfect” aphorisms, I think in this situation it actually applies.  At least a bit.

Anyways, moving on from the apologetic introit.  My name is Marcus Luther, and in case you didn’t know—and I know that most don’t—I’m the new Associated Students of the University of Puget Sound President (we’ll use the term ‘ASUPS’ from this point forward, to avoid arthritis).  Don’t worry, though, that this journal/blog will consist entirely of ASUPS propaganda and event notices; that is not the goal.  I simply hope to convey what life is like for a student in this position, what my normal day is like, how the ASUPS office works, some of the issues that come across my desk, and how it impacts the rest of my life.  If you’re yawning already—well, we’ll get back to that later.

So how does one become ASUPS President, one might ask?  Well, since I was twelve years old and watched The West Wing for the first time, I knew that my life goal was to be student body president of my eventual fill-in-the-blank uni

Awkward-Smirk Photo

versity.  From that point forward, everything I did was geared towards eventually assuming the seat I now occupy: practicing shaking hands, giving grandiose speeches into the mirrors, making my own business cards with Sharpe markers and construction paper, etc.

Kidding.  Though I’m addicted to that show.

Honestly, I came to Puget Sound to play baseball—I had no preconceived, student government ambitions.  Actually, until Garner Lanier approached me last semester, I really hadn’t thought much about the position.  I have been involved in Residence Life the past two years, am involved in numerous activities, am a member of Phi Delta Theta, etc.—basically, I have a full schedule already and wasn’t looking to take more on.

But being good friends with Dan Miller (the past ASUPS President), I got curious.  I started having conversations with all the current Execs, some faculty and administrators, and a lot of my closer friends.  The more I learned, the more I started wanting a chance to fulfill this role and make a difference on campus.  Thus far, my college experience has been an irreplaceable asset in my life, and I’m infinitely grateful for the opportunity I’ve been afforded—I saw ASUPS as the best way to give back.

Awkward-Laughing Photo

So after getting excited, I worked with Garner to make it happen.  This was a long, rigorous phase (despite the lack of opposition, we treated it as if it were a nail-biter election) that included forming a campaign platform, learning more about individual position requirements, speaking to student groups, creating/putting up posters and Facebook groups, and more.

By the way, I hate taking campaign photos.  Actually, I hate taking photos in general.  Doing a three-hour photo shoot around campus was like having my teeth pulled, then going to the doctor and getting multiple vaccination shots.  And seeing those photos around campus over the next month?  That was like swallowing a five-pound pill twice-a-day.

I’m not a big self-promotion guy, especially via photos/posters.  However, that’s part of the job, especially the election part.

After all that, we were elected.  And then inaugurated March 10th.  And that is how I got here.

In essence, the process simply consisted of me getting interested, educating myself about the potential opportunity, then spending three months making it happen.  I would definitely encourage anyone interested in running to really consider it, and to talk to as many people as possible (including me!) about whether or not it is the right opportunity for you.

Thus far, it has been an incredible experience.  And I cannot think of a better way to give back to the school that has already given me so much.

Posted in Marcus Luther '12 | Comments Off on ASUPS leadership