#26: having unspoken (but never to be broken) rules of modesty

As a senior in high school, scrambling through that giant pile of college advertisements, my list of "things I look for in a university" had to get super specific. I mean, if I was going to be feeding my kids soup for the next 20 years until I finally gave those student loans the boot, I wanted it to be for the sake of a worthwhile educational cause. So, I started getting choosy, thinking about what really mattered in a college. I even developed a system for sorting pamphlets into the "heck no techno," "hmmm...probably not, but I'll dangle that admissions counselor by a thread a little longer," and "yeah, I think you could make all my varsity dreams come true, so I'll definitely give you a shout out this Wednesday at prayer meeting when peeps ask me where I'm thinking about going" piles.

Some colleges made it into the final rounds of the decision making process, only missing my tuition check by a few yards. John Brown, had you not roomed me in an "we-secretly-have-Mennonite-sympathies" suite during your version of SCOPE/GROW, you might have been the one. And Hardin-Simmons, you almost had me with that free CD; it's not your fault you had to go and locate yourself in (excuse me as I spit) Texas. U of A, you were definitely in a close second; if only you had appreciated my papier-mache volcano project as much as you did that Japanese-Indian-Korean-Pakistani-American kid's independent cancer research and given me that Fellowship instead, we could have had a beautiful life together.

Other universities were a no-brainer, their fliers going straight from the envelope to the shredder. Wellesley Private Women's College, thanks for the invite, but you just didn't comply with my stay-at-home-mom fall-back plans. Yale, it was fun going on that emotional roller coaster with you, but some acceptance rate statistics would have been nice along with the bumper sticker, personal interview, and 2007-2008 handbook you mailed me. And Liberty, ooohhh, Liberty. You had me for a split second with that colorful add frequenting the pages of WORLD magazine. Your mission statement and scholarship options were pretty legit. You just made one slip up: you included a picture. Yeah, sure, the girl standing on the steps of your chapel was really pretty, and some might have been fooled by her super relevant t-shirt complete with ambiguous slogan and tree graphic, but I was cunning. I knew what to look for, and my scrutinizing eyes could not miss the blaring statement sent by that floor-length khaki skirt...DRESS CODE! You went straight to the "heck no techno" pile, Liberty, faster than I could flip channels from 700 Club to MTV Cribs. Yes, yes, I know. I did ask for a Christian liberal arts education, but I had no intention of getting doc martins, an IMB logo-polo, and a head prayer-shawl in the mix. Better luck next time.

So, after months of googling, GROW-ing, alumni-facebook-stalking, essay writing, campus-visiting, and the occasional session of spontaneous weeping, I finally decided that Ouachita was it. With my down-payment on its way to Arkadelphia, I took comfort in knowing that I had made the right decision. I had been told that, in fact, Jesus went to OBU. And "by golly," I thought, "if it's good enough for Him, surely it's good enough for me."

Naturally, I struggled to suppress my shock when I arrived on campus to discover that, in spite of boasting to be as good as Liberty except "like not fundamentalist and stuff," Ouachita did indeed have its own set of clothing do's and don'ts. Sure, you might not find them printed in the Tiger Handbook, but you would find them engraved somewhere else: on the hearts and minds of Ouachitonians.

Perhaps that spaghetti strap and jeggings combo I rocked last week wouldn't land me in Keldon Henley's office, but it would merit me a concerned spot on the Wednesday night prayer line-up, if not by name, under the not-so-unspoken heading of "those girls." You know "those girls:" "those girls who have not yet had the 'being-sensitive-to-the-struggles-of-their-brothers-in-Christ' revelation." We need to really keep "those girls" on our hearts. Perhaps, if worst comes to worst (i.e. leggings as pants or heaven forbid, something strapless!) the situation may call for a little loving dose of confronting via a friend, an anonymous 'girl-don't-you-know-that-outfit-is-only-suited-for-street-corners' note, or better yet, a passive aggressive blogpost. :)

Freedom, grace, no longer being a slave to sin? These are all grand concepts, and Ouachitonians like to help keep them happenin' through intensely specific social conventions. Though at first I was wary of the subtle clothing regulations, I have come to realize their benefits. I mean, it is nice to be able to sleep soundly at night knowing my righteousness is still intact. Not to mention that it majorly cuts down on the number of quail that I have donate for my personal atonement every spring. (I especially appreciate this latter repercussion around tax time. I can never figure out if temple sacrifices are deductible!) Said conventions also sure do make all those passage about sexuality and adultery and stuff a lot more comfortable to sit through in Sunday School when I know that I am guilt free thanks to extreme personal discipline, the gouging out of one of my eyes, and the commitment of my brothers to gloves, turtlenecks and MC hammer pants.

I only have one suggestion I would like to submit for Ouachita Dress Code consideration. I feel that my addition would be immensely helpful in our striving toward modest-is-hottest communal living. Two words: Invisibility Cloaks. In fact, why not just replace all previously unspoken rules with just this one? We could rid ourselves of a lot of ambiguity by simply investing in a campus-wide set. We're already giving incoming freshman beanies these days. So why not throw a little 100%-purity guarantee into the mix, Harry Potter style?

#25: mail time

It's Tuesday, post-lunch, and I've got a good 30 seconds to kill. What am I going to do? Check mail, of course! Maybe I've already checked it twice today, and maybe there wasn't anything to be found. Ir-relevant. Anytime is the perfect time to check mail. Who knows what distant relative, WOM lady, or sweet my-spiritual-gift-is-writing-encouraging-notes-on-craftastic-homemade-cards friend might have felt so led in the last 120 minutes to send a little love over to 410 Ouachita St., box 4493.

So, I head over to the student center, avoid eye-contact with 40+ potential acquaintances lining the couches and corridors (I am on a mission here) as I scurry down the stairs, turn right, duck under some stairwell architecture jutting down from above (and threatening to concuss many an unsuspecting freshman), hang left, and finally reach that blessed small, silver square--a tangible representation of all my post officinal hopes.

I stop. My breath catches as I dream about what could be awaiting me inside box 4493. A giftcard? An Emilee Wade original bird-gram? or perhaps...homemade chocolate chip cookies? Do I dare to dream? I do, I do indeed.

I try my combination, not once, not twice, but seven times until finally I hear the melodious click of success, and I throw open the door to find...Huzzah!...there are contents within the vault!

But wait! Are said contents for moi? Alas, 3 are for my blasted boxmate. Foiled once again. Does he not know that mail checking is a daily--albeit hourly--responsibility for every self-respecting Ouachita student? How could he be so inconsiderate as to raise and crush my hopes with his postbox negligence? I know that mass-mailed tiger serve day announcement is not fresh. I mean, I recycled mine ages ago--hours even!

Gasp! But what's that!? Do I spy with my little eye an orange slip? Orange slip, orange slip! Blest be thee, orange slip! Art thou for me? Yes yes, you are indeed!

I hastily grab said orange slip as joy fills my heart. I slap my box shut and skip over to the post office window where a friendly work study worker greets me with a smile. She takes my slip and darts behind the wall to retrieve my glorious parcel. She returns carrying a box that, much to my heart's delight, is twice the size of my backpack! I check the return address! Alas, it is from my mom! She does love me!

I rip open the box only to find a bookmark, my medical insurance card, and three socks I left at home over Christmas break. I sigh, trying to suppress my disappointment. I check my watch. 30 minutes until my next class. Perhaps I should take my non-chocolate-chip-cookies package back to my room. It really is quite cumbersome. But wait! My friends are still in class. If I head back now, how are they to observe that someone loves me 12" by 14" by 6" and $6.47 S&H's worth? They don't have to know that my box's contents are far less exciting than its exterior.

I decide to stick around student center for a while. I choose to sport my package on my shoulder rather than risking the floor's dust or the couch's obstruction of the view of my box to peers passing by. I mean, I would hate for someone to lose out on the blessing of getting to congratulate me on my mail-time luck!

As I wait, a song fills my heart..."here's the mail....it never fails...it makes me wanna wag my tail. When it comes I wanna yell: Maaaaaiiiiill--lllll!"

**The idea for today's SOL was submitted by James Taylor. Thanks, J.T.!

#24: squirrels

I would like to take this opportunity to affirm my fellow Ouachitonians. Overall, I would say that we are a pretty reputable bunch. We serve the community in many ways: chillin' with the elderly, taking internationals to walmart, pickin' up trash once a semester on Pine St., and making Arkadelphia at least 400% hipper just by gracing it with our v-necked presence. We have passion. We have com-passion. We have compassion children. We eat. We pray. We love.

However, there is a group in our midst for whom I feel we have not reached the level of brokenness that is due.

Daily they wander around our campus unnoticed and unloved. All they ask for is a safe place to hunt, gather, and raise their kids. Usually, they are pretty inconspicuous. If you're especially astute and an early riser, you might just might spot one scurrying--naked and cold--through the grass, nervously, desperately, searching for something, anything, to take back to his family for sustenance. And oh to be a fly on the bark at night, when anguished fathers and mothers whisper of the coming winter, when there may be no walnuts on the table for dinner and no acorns in the children's stockings at Christmas.

Sure, they may not be as cool as the rest of us. Maybe those coats they usually sport look just like the one's their ancestors were rockin' back in '85 BC, but does mean they don't deserve our respect? Does it mean they don't still need acceptance?

Ouachitonians, we are called to care about the "least of these." I just don't think we have even begun to understand what this means when it comes to the furry ones among us. Our responses to them may vary. Some of us choose apathy. Others choose ignorance, pretending not to notice
when we see a furry brother crawling out of the trashcan with a chic fillet wrapper in his paws. Others are even downright cruel, making them objects of pranks and "relocating" them to new homes down at Degray. Did they ask for that? What have they done to merit such unjust treatment?

As much as I want to keep patting you on the back, friends, I just can't with the situation at hand. Something has got to give. Love, diversity, tolerance, antidiscrimination. These are not just words we throw around in ethics class. Whatever happened to personal application? What happen to faith+deeds? I have a dream, my friends, a dream that one day this tiger nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all (ver)-men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the gray side-walks of Ouachita, the sons of former squirrels and the sons of former squirrel hunters will be able to sit down at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Arkansas, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, sweltering with the heat of 90% humidity 9 months out of the year, sweltering with the heat of mediocre dormitory temperature control, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children (yes I do indeed have four of them just in case you didn't know but I have to keep it on the DL since I'm pretty sure Francis Crawford rooms are only supposed to house two so they all secretly sleep on pallets under my bed and only leave at odd hours of the day when no reslife staff members are around...let's just say I have a past) will one day live in a tiger nation where they will not judge others by the color of their skin and/or fur but by the content of their character.

#23: the sexy prayer voice

The concept for today's post was submitted by Jacob Watson and Sky Howard. However, Jacob and Sky are not to be implicated in any sacrilege that may have snuck its way into today's post. For that, the writer of SOL is entirely to blame (and apologetic).

Thanks to the writings of those like John and Staci Eldredge, Susan Campbell, Hillsong, and many creative interpreters of Song of Solomon, phrases like "being in Romance with Jesus," "Jesus, lover of my soul," and "Dating Jesus" are now regulars in the world of Christian dialogue. This kind of lingo can become confusing to those of us Ouachitonians who depledged from the exegeting club after taking that Bible Interp final. As inspiring as these phrases may be for some, I often find myself wondering if, when I pray, I should be envisioning an image of that wimpy, creepo Jesus depicted in many Baptist Foyer paintings, or rather, something more along the lines of Will Smith. And should I change my facebook relationship status from "single" to "in a relationship with Jesus Christ?" For me, talking about Jesus in an eros kind of way leaves room for implications that make me just a little squirmy. But, maybe that's just me.

However, though I may be the only one wrestling with these particular questions, the discussion of romancin' it up with the Creator of the Universe has definitely had some subtle effects on the way we Ouachitonians express our faith. I would now like to call your attention to a phenomenon that has been sweeping Ouachita prayer circles for some time now...the Sexy Prayer Voice. The Sexy Prayer Voice (let's call it SPV, for short), has a dramatic way of entering the scene whenever someone decides that, yes, right here, right now, we're going to take things there. We're going to invite the Lord into this conversation we are having, even though we secretly know that He has been here the whole time.

You've heard the SPV before, likely you've even rocked it before: voice drops at least half an octave, words become more slowly and emphatically enunciated, aspiration of consonants dramatically increases, and ending "s's" are held just a little bit longer. Everything sounds at least 250% more heartfelt.

There are many reasons to rock the SPV. Perhaps God will be quicker to answer if He knows that you are really feeling it for that someone on whose behalf you are interceding; I think I read somewhere once that His ears are in fact more attuned to words spoken in the style of Morgan Freeman. And I can guarantee that your lowered pitches will be more easily heard by all the elderly ladies and cocker spaniels in your prayer circle. Furthermore, your slower speaking speed will be greatly appreciated by all the non-native English speakers around you.

However, the greatest reason to bust out the SPV when you are having quality time with the Lord in the presence of others is to sky-rocket your level of matrimonial eligibility in the eyes of those who are both members of your prayer circle AND the opposite sex. The SPV reveals that you are sensitive to the needs of others in an I'm-not-obligated-to-say-this-I-really-do-weep-myself-to-sleep-nightly-for-the-orphans-of-Africa kind of way. Furthermore, it proves to those available co-eds that you are lovin' Jesus in the same kind of way you'll be lovin' them. Forget about having to prove your awesomeness through expensive, eternally insignificant means like flowers, chocolate, fancy dinners, and original song serenades. All you need is love. And nothing shows your capacity for love like the sexy prayer voice. You're welcome.

#22: taking artsy photographs

Just got engaged? Looking for some awesome pics for those wedding invitations? Luckily for you, there are about 450 up and coming photographers wandering around campus just waiting to take you to a field where they will reveal the magic that is your young love via 22.5 megapixels.

Want to capture your college friendships on film for facebook? Why settle for an awkward let-me-try-to-hold-the-camera-and-get-us-both-in-the-picture-without-making-it-look-like-my-arm-is-connected-to-my-face shot at a football game, when instead, you could grab that Canon EOS Digital Rebel-carrying chum currently walking down an OBU sidewalk with his tripod and flash in tow. He'll take you down to the railroad tracks with 50 of your closest friends where you'll show off your fiery eyes and all those modeling poses you've been secretly doing in front of your mirror for years.

And as any true Ouachitonian knows, you cannot truly consider that mission trip you took over the summer a success unless you have Kodak-momented in HD those little Ethiopian kids to whom you gave food, water and Bibles.

Unfortunately though, there are some on campus who have not shelled out the buckaroos or extra elective hours needed to join the Perhaps-I'll-Ditch-My-Biology-Degree-and-Pursue-a Freelance-Photography-Career Club. Not to fear! If you are in the marginalized 3% who (gasp!) only use the manual settings on their non-SLRs and can't even remember the brand name, there are a variety of ways to cover up your lack of photography skillz. Soon, you will be able to go back to putting your family photos on facebook without shame if only you follow these simple do's and don'ts...

Do: Cutting off part of the person you're photographing: i.e. head, half of profile, everything but the feet, etc. Nothing says "cliche" like including an entire body in a shot.

Don't: Poses. Candid all the way, baby.

Do: Throwing in an inanimate object that had no apparent relevance to the subject. Your pics will be so epic in all of their postmodern glory.

Don't: Including babies. Babies are so 1995. Unless that baby looks especially sad or has half of his face missing or is from another country or is wearing an "Invisible Children" onesie or serves a symbolic purpose in your photo's message, ditch that little son of a gun.

Do: Rocking the black and white option. Black and White makes everything look at least 50% more artsy.

Don't: Family beach pictures. Need I say more?

#21: tiger tunes

Friend 1: "Hey girl, wanna get dinner together tonight around 6?"
Tuneser: "No, girl. You know I've got Tunes. I haven't eaten dinner in 4 weeks. Duh."

Friend 2: "Hey, hey! How's it going? So I have been doing a lot of research, and I think I have finally found a cure for cancer. If you come and look at some lab results with me tonight, I will totally share my Nobel Prize with you."
Tuneser: "Sorry. I have Tunes. Priorities, you know?"

Friend 3: "Hey, how are you? Hey, I really need help your help. There's a family of 12 over on 17th street whose dad is in jail and whose mom just got hit by a bus. Can you come help babysit and bring them food with me tonight? I'm just not sure how much longer the little ones are going to make it. Winter is coming, you know."
Tuneser: "Hello-oh! Tiger Tunes practice! You know I don't have time for frivolities like that."

As many a Ouachitonian knows, Tiger Tunes is not just a cute show for Homecoming and Scholarship Raising. Tunes. Is. Life. Though some may claim that tunesers commit 80+ hours over a period of 5 weeks all in the name of fun, if one were to spend that same amount of time with an individual, they would not be just friends. They would be changing that facebook relationship status, son! Despite what Tunes participants may try to tell you, don't be deceived. It is not an open relationship. They are not seeing other people. Move aside, Other Friendships. Move aside, Homework. Move aside, Community Service. Move aside, Healthy-Relationship-with-Parents. Tiger Tunes is coming through.

Now given the level of time commitment necessary to be a Tunes participant, some might ask why any self-respecting student would subject him or herself to so many hours of song-and-dance boot camp. Well sure, there are a variety of reasons. Some claim it is all in the name of community building--for making new friends, having fun, and growing together. For some, it is a chance to live out childhood fantasies in a socially acceptable context (cough, cough, Eta Star Wars show). For freshman boys, it is a chance to show off their fun personalities, moves, and harmonizing skillz to both freshman AND upperclassmen ladies. (And indeed, many a new relationship has bloomed as tunesing co-eds tiger-tunes-run it off the stage, side by side, hand in hand, and heart in heart). For other boys, Tiger Tunes offers a chance to finally rock those tights and makeup they've always wanted to try without the resulting white-faced dads and weeping moms. And finally, others just can't afford that club fine.

However, we all secretly know why that cm prisoner will willingly undergo 400 run-throughs of the same contagion night after night after night, and why even the sweetest Tri Chi White House secretary will deck her sister when she misses that harmony part in "Eye of the Tiger" for the 3rd time in a row, and why the men of Beta Beta will kind of sort have a late-nighter. They all have a similar ambition: to beat the heck out of those blasted Kappa Chi's.

Through the years, several clubs have taken their turn in the winner's circle, and almost all have gotten to revel in the year long glory of sitting on the Tiger Tunes Champion's Throne (our hearts go out to you, Pi Kappa Zeta). However, in the past few years, one club has risen above the others, making the "only-professional-ballerinas-can-bend-like-this" moves of the Chi Delta's seem amateur and making those 8-part EEE harmonies sound like something performed by Vacation Bible School children. When the men of Kappa Chi busted out that synchronized helmet light show in 2008, things got serious. Things got real. Things got personal. From that point on, the Kappas could officially consider themselves ENEMY NUMBER 1.

So I ask you, non-Kappa-tunesers, what will you bring to the table to top them this year? Live Animals? Rings of fire? Soul? All I know is that it best be good. And I for one look forward to sitting back and watching--safely from my mezzanine seat--the emotions, the drama, the sweat, and the tears that are sure to commence come Thursday night.

#20: zimbabweans

Who's that drinking hot chocolate on a warm, August afternoon? Who's that you spot walking all the way to Walmart to pick up some stuff from "the shops?" Who's that student stashing extra food and water in his backpack in the caf when no one is looking? Who's that rocking a quasi-British/quasi-Australian accent? Who's that boy donning Veldskoens and shorty-short shorts? Who's that girl bundubashing through the hedges to get to her next class when a perfectly acceptable sidewalk is merely inches--ugh, I mean centimetehs--away? Who are those okes leading shirtless boys in a bloody round of padding-free football down at the intramural fields? Who's that sporting some classic vuvu-lip at the OBU soccer match? Well, they're your trusty Zimbabweans, of course, boet!

Who would have thought that Arkadelphia, AR would become a near-refugee camp for marginalized Southern Africans? "Not I," said the Zehbra, "not I," said the hippopotamus, "not I," said the wildebeest. Did you, my American Ouachitonian friend, ever imagine that your peer group at OBU would possess a level of diversity that transcends beyond the mysterious boundaries of foreign lands like Montana, Utah, or New Jersey, reaching all the way over to that big-ol'-dark country of...(cue mood lighting and hushed voices)...Africa!?!?

We here at Ouachita would like to thank you, our dear Zimbabwean friends, for all the ways you help expand both our minds and our hearts and in doing so, make Ouachita lank awesome...

Thank you for helping us count our blessings for the finer things in life like food, shelter, and freedom from inconveniences such as racial oppression, hijacking, and being threatened on our lives at the voting booths. Thanks for checking our food complaints in the caf via pictures of empty grocery store shelves and starving, parentless babes. Thank you for keeping freshman girl attendance at Friday Noon Days at an all-time high. Thanks for teaching us that one can be African and simultaneously (gasp) white. And last but not least, thank you so much for helping us conquer our previously insurmountable fear of the word "Celsius."

Natalie 'When My Fingers Embrace the Keys, Magic Happens' Carroll

Theo 'Okay, Okes, It's Not Bromance, It's Called a Scrum' Hone

Jason 'Welcome to Noonday' Kirk

Tim 'I Rock the Zehbra Speedo 24/7, Boet' Ferris

#19: campaigning for lil sis/beau

by Elizabeth Hammons


"Oh, sorry, I can't go to Chic with you. I'm going over to the (fill in the blank) house to watch wrestling. Yeah, I just can't get enough of it! Plus, those guys are like, my best friends. I just baked two dozen cookies from scratch just in case the boys get hungry. I mean, I'm over at "the house" so much, I should practically move in. They all think so! That reminds me, are you going to the serenade tomorrow night? It's going to be amazing. If you want to make posters for some of the guys, just stop by my room. I'll be putting the finishing touches on all of mine. No big deal, I'm just making each member and pledge a poster with his name spelled in glitter. I need to charge my camera battery tonight; gotta make sure I get a picture of every song at every dorm! Oh, you only go to the serenade at your dorm? That's...nice. Have you heard what they're doing for Tunes? It's going to be really funny. I mean, it's so good I hope they beat my club. JK!"

"Yeah, bro, I'm totally up for lunch at the caf. I just want to say hi to a couple of my friends over at the (fill in the blank) table. Oh no, they want me to stay and eat with them. Is that cool? They need my opinion on the shirts for the crush dance. Did you get invited? Don't sweat it. I'm sure your invite is in the mail. They just gave me one in person last night while I was helping move their giant wooden letters off the football field. I'm totally psyched about the outing. I can tell one of their pledges to ask you if you really want to go; they owe me since I was in their date auction. I'll bring it up when I go to their carwash today. Autozone, 12-5, be there! I've got to drop these letters in the mail before I go. It's nothing. I just wrote a letter to each one of their pledges, telling her she chose an amazing club. No reason, I just wanted to give them a little encouragement. Oh yeah, I can't make the intramural game today because I've got to coach their football team, then I promised the girls I'd help set up for the mixer. I don't know what time the "rest" of you are supposed to be there. Check my wall-to-wall with the social chairs."

#18: sidewalk creepin'

Scene:
You're walking to class. You must choose the most apt sidewalk for getting there. There are a variety of variables playing into your decision-making process: which sidewalk has the least number of awkward turns? Which has the best as-the-crow-flies efficiency potential? Which is not currently being watered by the sprinklers? Who would you rather see on your journey--music majors or business majors? Which sidewalk has the least number of bikers/baby strollers/razor scooters? All of the factors above make the sidewalk-decision-making process rather complex. However, you are not to be foiled by mere obstacles. You are a college student and daily have to make far more life-altering decisions than the one presently at hand, such as "which laundry detergent shall I buy from Walmart?" and "v-neck or crew-neck?" Thus, using your physical science skillz and your instincts for self-preservation, you choose the ideal path and proceed to follow it accordingly. You stroll down through the middle of the Flag Plaza, step over some we're-seriously-just-friends-even-though-we-like-to-cuddle-when-we-study co-eds, barely scrape through a life-threatening encounter with a razor scooter, and happily walk toward the student center.

But wait. You are not home free yet.

You suddenly spot a fellow side-walk stroller approximately 20 meters directly in front of you, and alas! his velocity is greatly lower than yours with an acceleration rate of 0 meters per second squared. "Blast!" you think to yourself. You were so close to reaching Evans with little to no harm to your person or your rep.

What are you to do? Already, the distance between yourself and said stroller has shrunk to 10 meters, and the gap is closing by the millisecond. Soon, you will have to pass your fellow walker, and everyone knows that the width of OBU sidewalks makes this feat impossible to accomplish with poise. I mean, you're not on I-30 here. What kind of subliminal messages will you be sending to your sidewalk friend? The way I see it, you now have several options...

stop, drop, and study:
Every little bit of time helps, my friend, and now is an ideal opportunity to snatch a couple of extra minutes of review over those Baptist Heritage notes. Grab some pavement, get cozy, and enjoy 120 extra seconds of learning. By the time you resume your journey, not only will you have allowed your fellow traveler the optimum time he needed to exit your path, but you will have also increased your chances of passing your class by .007%.

run like the wind, bullseye!:
Your sidewalk buddy doesn't have to know that there is no real emergency. For all he knows, you are in fact Clark Kent, rushing to the rescue of an elderly lady who has just fallen down the stairs on her way to the mail boxes. Sprint like there's no tomorrow, friend. And don't look back until you have long-cleared your slow-poke peer and reached your destination.

find a friend:
Heavens knows you have already guns-thumbs-upped/winked at/"hey"-ed to 90+ people in transit, so quickly finding a friend to help you thwart some awkward, sidewalk passing should be no prob. Turn that smile and nod into a full on convo, and let that fellow stroller ahead receive the ample time he needs to reach his endpoint unabated.

make a new friend:
Embrace the awkwardness. Accept the fact that at some point soon in time, you and the stranger ahead will be walking parallel to one another. Resist the urge in the moment to pretend like it isn't happening. Instead, use this as an opportunity for some community-building. When you begin to overtake him, grab his hand, look him into the eyes, introduce yourself and--if time allows--share your entire testimony. You never know where this new relationship may lead. Perhaps this will be the start of a beautiful, life-long friendship. Or, if he's a hottie, (and(preferably) if you're a lady), this could in fact be where the magic begins.

#17: humoring music majors

"O-o-o-ooooooooooooooooooklahoma where the wind comes sweeping o'er the...wait, I'm sorry. Am I bothering you? I was just trying to warm up a little before my 9:00AM voice lesson. I am so embarrassed. I know we're in the library, but all the practice rooms were full, and the acoustics are simply unbeatable up in here. Seriously, though, I am stopping now...

hmmm--hmmmmmmm--do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti...oh gosh, there I go again. It's just that singing is so second nature to me that I don't even realize I'm doing it. Well, while I've got you here, though, could I sing through one of my arias quickly for you? I am just wondering if when I sing "Per la glo-o-o-ria" if I should trill the "la" or the "voglio-a." This whole line-coloring thing is such a delicate art. I need lots of insight into what is most pleasing to the human ear. I am having my junior recital tonight, and I want it to be absolutely peeerrrr-feeecct! Are you coming? Did you get Dr. Secrest's email about it? Oh, you got all five emails?--that is just wonderful. Can't wait to see you there.

What are you studying for there, friend? Fine Art Music?! Well it's your lucky day! I had two semesters of Music Lit--it's like FA Music but the non-pansy version--and I would LOVE to answer any questions you may have. I see you're studying Vivaldi? OMG love him! He wrote...oh...what was it called? Oh yeah, Violin Concerto in E minor, Opus 64. Love that jam! I can't play the violin, but I can definitely sing that tune for you...oh, you'd rather just listen to it on your I-Pod? Well, maybe another time.

So, what other classes are you taking this semester? Discreet Math? Oh, that's nice. I am so jealous. I miss the days of easy classes like that, when I could spend my afternoons chillin' on the lawn and my nights hanging out with friends at Taco Bell. Oh yeah, that's right. I never had free time. My advisor threw me into 26 hours a week from the get-go. Well, it must be nice to be you. Think of me when you're doing a CDA tonight. I'll be at opera rehearsal until tomorrow morning. Oh, and you're taking French, too? It must be such a blessing to only have to speak French. Try singing in French, now that's fun. I'd like to see you elide that "vous" into that "aimerai" while holding a high C.

Oh, there I go complaining again, as if I didn't absolutely love my life! I mean, it's like I have a 24/7 movie soundtrack rolling behind me as I go throughout each day, except not only do I pick the music, I make it too! I wish you could experience the joy that music brings to my soul even as I spend many sleepless nights imprisoned on the 3rd and 4th floors of Maybee Fine Arts, struggling to figure out why Dr. Houlihan keeps failing me for transitioning a III chord to a ii...or crying my eyes out week after week after piano lessons...or still, even in March, struggling to extract "Christmas Is the Best Time of the Year" from my brain. It's so worth it, though. It's like my life is always alive with the sound of music. Hey, that's catchy: "my life is alive with the sound of music." That reminds me of a song, and my heart wants to sing every song it hears.
Cue Maestro...


**The idea for today's SOL was submitted by Terese Cox. Thanks, Terese. You're a pal. :)

#16: going green

Dear David Owens,

You are a man of mystery. I have never seen you, but I know you exist. I see evidence of your presence at Ouachita in the blue bag currently residing on my dorm room floor and in the monthly all student emails you send me, reminding me to turn off my printer at night. I especially appreciated it when you came clean last year about not turning off your own office printer at night. Your confidence to confess your earth-unfriendly behavior to all of OBU was really inspiring to me. Not only do you inspire me, but you have become like my very own Jiminy Cricket for recycling. Before you electronically entered my life, I walked the non-narrow path filled with Styrofoam cups and paper napkins. I would even throw away extraneous mass mail into the (gasp!) trash can. I know, I know. It was a dark time in my life. But now, thanks to you, I have seen the Ozone-unprotected light! Hi, my name is Jessica Schleiff, and I have been earth-hating-behavior free for 11 months and 10 days now. I started my go-green conversion with baby steps--going "light green" as John Mayer would say. First came the minor life-change of throwing my water bottles into the plastics bin. Then, gradually I realized that if I truly cared about being a good steward of God's creation, I would not be drinking out of water bottles at all! For the love! How could I be so blind? I'll have you know that I can count the number of water bottles I have used since that day of epiphany on one hand--and those I only accepted out of politeness to the well-intentioned but misguided friends who purchased them for me.

Unfortunately, Walmart is currently out of Camelbaks, though, and this puts me in a bit of an ethical dilemma. But don't lose heart! I am standing strong. Though I haven't drunk water outside of the caf in 10 days, am starting to hallucinate, and am waking up every morning to a level of parchedness that greatly hinders my ability to speak, I will not back down! I just think to myself in moments of hydration-induced weakness, "what would David Owens do?" and I then channel the perseverance I need to press on. And in times when I think it would be much more convenient to discard an old essay in the nearest receptacle, I just imagine that a tiny version of you is on my right shoulder and a mini(-er) Terese Cox is on my left. Then, the distance to that recycling bin seems irrelevant as concern for my personal comfort fades away in light of the bigger environmental picture. I would also like to thank you for allowing me to wear that super cute "Ouachita Recycles" tee from the bookstore without feeling like a poser. I will be sending you a copy of my Greenpeace membership card soon for you to hang on your wall as a symbol of my gratitude.


**Today's post is dedicated to Hayley Nolan.

#15: exclusive lingo

"Ooo-kay, friend, I SEE you wearing that V-Neck and Chacos. You are rockin' that, girl. Hey, what are you doing now? Want to head over to Chic and grab lunch before Extra-Jesus? Yeah, seriously, the Caf line is ridiculous! When will all the freshies get a life and stop eating on campus every meal? Ah, snap, can you swipe for me? I totally left my Vera Bradley wallet with everything of importance in my life strapped to it back at FC. I will totally make it up to you, no worries. Maybe I'll take you out to the Sizz, Sunday afternoon. Just joshin' you, who eats at The Sizz!?

Ooo-kay awesome ID card picture! I see you looking all cute for Early Registration. I am totes jel of you right now; you just don't even know. My ID card pic is the most embarrassing. Yeah, for real, de-tag that. By the way, what are you doing tonight? I am pretty sure all the friends are going over to Dino's for Karaoke at 7:00. You down? Yeah, get excited, it's going to be epic. Hey, we have some time to kill; maybe we should take our Chic up to the Bridge. Do you know what is the most fun? CDA's. Maybe we should do one of those after Dino's tonight. You bring your I-Home, and I'll bring my trumpet. Do you have much homework this weekend? Yeah, I have do to some exegeting, as well. I'm tellin' you, that class is some serious thornage in my flesh. Thankfully, I will never have to exegete again after this semester, Praise the Lamb. PTL, girl. PTL.

Hey, did you hear the one about the Calvinist, the Dispensationalist, and the Priest?...








**Today's SOL is dedicated to the most influential instigators and propagators of verbal trends on campus--Nate Wade, Allison Grigsby, and all of Tri Chi. Thanks for all you linguistically do for us, guys.

#14: quality time

Though I have not taken an official poll, I feel that I can assert with some confidence that at least 95% of Ouachita's students would consider quality time as one of their primary love languages. However, campus design, building-size, and the campus-residence policy often make quality time difficult to achieve on OBU's premises. For example, want to have coffee and a little DMC (deep meaningful conversation) with a friend via an ID-card swipe and no money out of pocket? The obvious location for said QT would be Ouachita's very own quasi-Starbucks in the Commons! Good luck pouring out your heart, though, amidst the other 100 people who are also there enjoying artsy, caffeinated hang-out time. Not only will all 100 of them want to say hi to you, but curse them and their friendliness, they will also want to hear all about your summer. Brace yourself for a lot of "Yeah I just feel like God is teaching me...'Oh hey, so-and-so. Yeah it was great, loved working at camp, so amazing, see ya...a lot about his grace and mer-...'Oh hey, girl, hey! Love your shirt too!..mercy, and it's so nice he has given me a best friend like you to talk about it w-...what it do, man! Yeah so great that we have life science together..." In order to put the quality back in your quality time, consider these options for best sending off that please-don't-approach-and-sit-down-with-us-right-now-we're-trying-to-take-our-relationship-beyond-the-surface-level vibe.

#1: Break Out the Bible:
Nothing says, "this is serious time," like God's word. Leaving your Bible open between you and your friend is sure to keep those superfluous acquaintances a safe, non-interactive distance away.

#2: Pretend You're Praying:
This one may be a bit sketchy in the spiritual department, but when it comes to the school of pragmatism, this method is where it's at. Just like the B-I-B-L-E, praying adds gravity to any conversation and sends out that, "Do not disturb! Intimacy and growth are occurring here" signal.

#3: Rock the Heavy-Hearted Face:
Smiling and laughter scream, "Please come over, and join in the fun!" and consequently, can be totally defeating to the more preferable one-on-one fun you could be having. Instead, take a tip from John Keats, and add a spoonful of melancholy to your cup o' joe. Not only will you look so real right now, but your fraquiendances will most definitely not want to become emotionally involved in the roller coaster that is your life when they see you sporting that furrowed brow. Thus, you will be spared that maybe-not-so-genuine "hey, how are you?"

#4: Sit at the DMC Tables in the Caf:
Though this concept may confuse the socially-slower amongst us, most Ouachitonians are aware that the booths and 2-seater tables in the cafeteria are primarily invitation-only and thus, are reserved for couple-time, quiet-time, study-time, and best friend-time. As long as everyone agrees to continue following these previously unspoken rules, you and your pal should remain uninterrupted.

#5: Hold Hands:
The majority of Ouachitonians (except for, of course, those participating in it) feel incredibly uncomfortable with any hint of PDA--i.e. smiling at each other, sitting within an arm's length next to each other on the lobby couches, walking together on campus, etc. You and your buddy's hand-holding will be like a magical people repellent. However, this method can get awkward quickly if your QT chum in not a member of the opposite sex. In such situations, you can choose to adjust the length of hand-holding time proportionally to your level of gender security. It is also important to discuss the big question of to digitate or not to digitate with your friend before attempting method #5. Alternatively, just stick to methods 1 through 4.

#13: The Woman Is Required to Pay

The echoes of incessant pillow talk wafting through the halls of Francis Crawford into the wee hours of the morn, and the giddy yet slightly distressed facial expressions that the class-of-2014 boys are currently sporting can only mean one thing: it is TWIRP season, ladies and gentlemen. For some girls--the few, the proud, the super-confident--TWIRP is a time of happy celebration. The only stress for these girls hits when they are forced to narrow down the list of their 30 closest guy friends to 6. However, for the rest of us ladies, TWIRP is a time filled with anguish. It's like all of a sudden our quasi-adult, emotionally stable, post-pubescent selves are transmogrified into those awkward middle-school versions from the past who sit at segregated lunch tables and read Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret, and whom we have for years tried to purge from our memories. It's as if we have been transported from our dorm rooms and internship offices straight onto the 2002 Band-Camp-Dance-Night-Floor where we wonder if that 3rd chair, baritone-playing hottie who sits next to us in 2nd band will reject us if we ask him to slow dance to N'Sync's "This I Promise You." Sure, we OBU girls constantly reassure each other that "no, a TWIRP date is definitely not a real date but instead, a no-strings-attached time of co-ed bonding." But riddle me this, friends: if a TWIRP invite is purely platonic, then why do my palms sweat so darn much when I am promenading my partner dosey-doe on the Bridges' farm or Thrillering it up next to him on TC Planet? And just how do I say, "Yes, perhaps I have singled you out from the other 750 eligibles on Ouachita's campus as the boy I want to awkwardly race to the center of a twizzler with, but I most certainly do not want this night to end in a moonlit stroll down to the gazebo"? Basically, as Samwise and Dr. Sonheim "the man" would say, we girls are in a pickle.



But wait! All is not lost! I have a plan for keeping you both stress and DTR free this semester, my female friend:



Mission: Twirp an International

An international student makes a wonderful TWIRP date for a variety of reasons. First of all, you don't have to waste your breath forcing small talk because he won't understand most of what you say, anyways. (For best results here, twirp an Asian--his language barrier is conveniently wider than that of your average European or South American). Secondly, there's a good chance that your international date has already been betrothed since birth to a nice lass back in his motherland. Thus, you are off the hook on the DTR front! Thirdly, his country's cultural implications for male-female interaction are generally quite different than those of America, and the inevitable wrong signals sent as a result can be both funny and scarring for life! Lastly, if the whole platonic thing doesn't fly and you accidentally find yourself matrimonially obligated to this boy by means of a 20-camel dowry, a threat on your mother's life, and a fatherly hand-under-the-in-law's-thigh oath, you can rest assured that the two of you will make beautiful ethnic babies together.

#12: getting humbled by lampposts

I am personally so appreciative for Ouachita's commitment to ambience. The lampposts lining virtuallythe entire path from Maddox to the Student Center really add some romance to campus. This dymanic is especially useful for DTRs, DMCs, or even platonic strolls with co-ed friends at night. Ouachita's lighted pathways also add a a British flair to our little piece of A-Town. Sometimes as I am meandering around campus between the hours of 8:30PM and 5 AM, I imagine that I am not in fact an ordinary college student in small town Arkansas but instead, Lucy Pevensie, and that Mr. Tumus will be joining me shortly for for a cup of tea and some sketchy lute-playing.

However, one unfortunate aspect of OBU's landscaping is its intrinsic connection to injury. Perhaps you have had a similar experience...

There I am walking to class, doing a little multitasking--i.e. walking and texting at the same time--when SMACK! out jumps a lamppost right into the center of my path and takes me down. Now some might say that I should have known better, that simultaneous texting and walking is obviously hazardous both to your own health and to the safety of those around you. I mean, I have certainly heard the sermon enough from Oprah and Will Smith to have learned this truth. Yet, I would like to plead "not guilty" to the fault in this scenario, for I have a theory as to why you and I collide, lamp post, and that theory is...conspiracy. That's right, my friends, OBU's lampposts are rising up against us. It's like War of the Worlds with 90% less blood- sucking, 50% less Tom Cruise and 100% more epicness. Plus...This. Is. Real. Life.

Perhaps they are bitter about the way their close proximity to to each other dims the significance of the individual lamp post. Maybe they're saying "hey, I wanna let this little light of mine shine all by myself, thank you very much, and I certainly don't need Mr. Lamp Post 65 here taking away my glory." However, I think that far more likely, the lampposts, like us, are not prideful individuals searching for satisfaction through a variety of selfish and abusive methods but instead, instruments for God's purposes. I envision the conversation going something like this:

Me: "Dear Lord, I just really need you to humble me. Lay my pride by my side in whatever way you see fit. I just want you to be glorified in my life, God."

God: "Done-skies"...
"Team Leader, Team Leader, I have an 827 on Jessica Schleiff. She's just prayed the 'ole "humble-me-Lord" prayer, and I believe that together with her general clumsiness and your skills in combat, we can totally make this thing happen. Lamp Post 1, please give a run down on the plan to Lamp Post 33. Over and Out."

Lamppost 1: "Lamp Post 33, do you copy? The subject is currently at your 3 0' clock, approaching the front of Mabee at approximately 3 miles an hour. I think you know what to do. Oh, and look at that! She's on her phone. It's like taking candy from a baby. 10-4, good sir."

Lamppost 33: "Copy, Team Leader. I am now slowly scooting 5 inches to my left...and...she's...DOWN, boys! The subject is down! Mission accomplished. What a job well done. I'll see you becoming even more undignified than this, Schleiff.

Sometimes, if the lampposts want to get really saucy, they get the columns in on it all, too. All I am sayin' is that you best be watching your step, my friend, and be careful what you pray for. It could be you next time lying concussed on the pavement with a sent text that reads "OMG! Be right therghuhdiuaslhjhsdiu"

#11: ministering to the lonely

At Ouachita, we have compassion for the lonely. Thus, we make it our mission to reach out to those who are feeling friendless in our midst. It is easy to spot the lonely, and here are some tell-tale signs:

breakfasting by himself:
Considering that the average Ouachitonian leaps out of bed each morning with a cry of "Good morning, sun! Oh, how I can't wait to build community today," seeing someone sitting by himself at breakfast is a red flag for friendlessness. Please don't hesitate to slap down your tray of cereal and eggs down by his and ask him all about his life. In fact, if you spot someone sitting by himself at any meal, please walk over with a voice full of pity and loudly ask if him if he wouldn't rather pull up a chair and squeeze into your table full of people he's never met before. Don't be mislead by those textbooks and studious air with which he's dining, it is merely a cry for help.

walking a dog:
If you're intuitive like me, you'll have realized the truth that "man's best friend" is really just a cover up for "man has no friends." Please befriend that dog-walker and save him all those trips to the Arkadelphia Animal Shelter.

sitting by herself at Refuge:
This is one of the clearest signs. That contemplative spirit she's sporting does not signify meditative, quiet time with Lord but instead, the brokenness of loneliness. Please intervene, and intervene quickly. If you can bring 10 of your closest friends over to where she's sitting, that is even better. Be sure to include, "Are you ok? You can tell me. No really, what's wrong?" And make sure you kidnap her for a little post-Refuge Waffle House time. Nothing builds community like truckers, florescent lights, and eating greasy food at weird hours.

#10: being too legit to quit

Here at OBU we value individuality and going against the grain, for we know that it is the only way to truly fit in. Not only is embracing one another's originality a way to celebrate diversity, it can also be a form of encouragement. For instance, just last week I saw a girl with some really tight bangs, and I thought she was just so darn cute, so I decided to encourage her in her unique style choice by getting my haircut exactly the same way. Imitation: the highest form of flattery.

At the caf, you might often find yourself in the classic let's-talk-about-bands-that-no one-else-has-ever-heard-of conversation. This can be a little overwhelming at first if you're a newbie and can't quite figure out how to jump into the convo. I find the best way to get in there is to invent a band name. Though it maybe a stretch of the truth, this method shows that you too enjoy a good Indie album in your spare time (preferably on Vinyl--CDs just can't pick up those subtle overtones). Be sure to make your faux-band title sound simultaneously obscure, vague, and profound, such as "Postmodern Rocket." Another formula for band name creation is {"the"+"[noun]"+"s"}--i.e. "The Hands," "The Stopwatches," "The Go-Go Gadgets." I could go on and on. Also, don't feel guilty if sometimes you need to pretend like you enjoy the band they're talking about, even if you've never heard of them. Just be sure to throw in "yeah, their album's pretty good, but have you heard them live? Epic."

The great thing about Ouachita's artsy scene is that it comes with a Christian twist. I mean, nothing says I'm a hipster AND I love social justice like a good 'ole pair of TOMS shoes. Also, fortunately for us, the growth of the Indie subculture amongst our generation has inspired a whole slew of Christian Indie bands to emerge from those garages and sneak their way into the local coffeehouse/liberal arts college scene. We now have a positive to alternative to K-LOVE for our cars! And let's not forget about those they-might-secretly-be-Christians bands with their soul-searching lyrics and hints of spirituality. Wait, what's that you say? Jon Foreman hot, Switchfoot not? I can't even talk to you. Your just so real right now.




**the writer of SOL would like to preemptively apologize to all of her good friends who may be offended by this article. It's all in love...and well maybe a little bitterness held over from too many "let's-talk-about-bands-no one-else-has-ever-heard-of" convos. :)

#9: equating walking with a member of the opposite sex with making it to 2nd base

**

Ok, girl. Now I am not trying to pry, but who's that guy I saw you walking over to the student center with the other day? I mean, I had heard you were talking to someone, but I didn't know you had gone public with that relationship already. What's the deal? Is it serious? Have you talked about marriage yet? Picked out your bridesmaids dress color? Discussed how many kids you are going to have? All I am saying is he is cute!!! Way to go, girl. I just knew you couldn't stay single forever with such a great personality. Any guy would be stupid not to swipe for you at Starbucks or text you irrelevant messages all day long. I knew as soon as I saw the two of you sitting together at Refuge that he was the one. I am just so excited for y'all!

Wait, what? You're not dating? You were just running a work study errand together, and you don't even remember his name? Well, that's just not fair to the rest of us for you to go frolicking around campus with members of the opposite sex like that. People will talk. Everyone will be confused. It just leads to gossip and disharmony in the Ouachita Community, and you don't want to be responsible for that, do you? Seriously, if you are going to send mixed signals like this, you should really do something to clear up the miscommunication. Please specify in your facebook status that you are single, available, and currently not interested in anyone. Your present trampy ways are frustrating to all of us. And I am thinking of you in this, too. If you ever want a guy to marry you, he needs to be confident that you are single and ready to mingle. If you don't have enough self-control to walk around with females only, at least keep a 5 foot gap between you and your co-ed, friend, mmmkay?

**today's post is inspired by the humor of Lauren "getting down to the witty-gritty" Reynolds.

#8: envying members of the Pruett School for their possession of the Christian-Studies-Major card

So, it happened again. I was having that age-old debate with friends around the dinner table about who would win if God's Sovereignty and Man's Free Will had a throw down. I thought I was holding my own in the conversation, citing personal experiences, others' testimonies, Bible verses, and an occasional Pat Robertson quote when KAZAM! you had to go and pull out your Greek Bible. Now, while I am so proud of you for your exegeting skills and your possession of a travel-sized New Testament in its original language, from this point on you hold the ultimate trump card in our debate. Suddenly, you are C.S. Lewis, and I am the old lady in Sunday school who still thinks playing pool is a sin. I resent you for that. (I can still resent people because I've only grasped that text about forgiveness in their town. I haven't applied it to my own yet.)

Don't get me wrong. One day I will be so thankful for the way that knowing the word parakletos has helped you understand the Holy Spirit. When you're behind the pulpit, and I am sitting on the pew using my Bible to whack my kiddos until they concentrate on their Noah's Ark coloring sheets, I'll be grateful that someone else is there to do that extra studying for me. And I will cherish that $50 I got back on my NT commentaries and Bible dictionaries. So, I thank you in advance for that, my friend. But right now, you are stealing my thunder. Maybe one day, I will stop being bitter, but not right now. Right now I'll be licking my debate wounds as I scurry with my tail between my legs right on over to my I-Tunes library, where I will be comforted by the lyrics of "Oh How He Loves Us." Wait, could you repeat what you just said? You don't think the lyrics of verse two are biblical? Ag, I give up.

#7: being aptly dressed 24/7 for both summer camp and a mission trip

As a Christian, I am aware that at any given time of day or night God may call me to go on a mission trip. If the situation is especially urgent, He may even ask me to apparate right over to that foreign land. Thus, in order to be prepared for this scenario, one must always be aptly dressed for a mission trip/camp-situation. Just in case you're confused about what that looks like, let me break it down for you: Chacos, t-shirt, Nalgene bottle, passport, digital camera, bandana head band, and you're good to go. This attire is also useful for those times when your big-bro/big-sister date or Backyard Bible Club session turns into a classic camp-counseling situation, complete with archery, horse-back riding, and songs around the fire.

As every Ouachitonian knows, outfits like the one mentioned above make for optimal comfort when navigating the Roman Road alongside your translator, throwing up that Honduran kid in the air like an airplane for the 50th time in a row, or combating a tricky toilet situation out in the African Bush. Sure, you can choose to wear something else to class each day, but just prepare yourself for 97% less effectiveness when that Shofar blows, and God calls you to red-eye it over to the Philippines.

#6: thinking that laughing about ring by spring will distract others from the fact that you got engaged in april

From week one, freshman are introduced to and encouraged to laugh at the Ouachita myth of "ring by spring or your money back." Yet, in lieu of all this giggling and mockery, one can easily overlook the fact that this myth is a real phenomenon. I personally love Spring at Ouachita. I feel so satisfied in my singleness when I open up my facebook homepage every week to find that BAM! six more Ouachita couples have gotten engaged. And each year I eagerly look forward to Marriage, Dating, and Engagement week, fun-filled with a variety of practical talks that reassure us doubting-Thomases that joy and singlehood are not mutually exclusive. And I, for one, really enjoyed that weekend retreat.

All of Ouachita joins in the limbo dance between brushing off dating and encouraging Ouachita students to bag a spouse, and bag 'em quick. Though professors will be the first to poke fun at the "ring by spring myth," they will also be the first to mention that the awkward freshman sitting beside you during WOW or Bible Survey could very well be the one. Furthermore, many a student has scoffed at Ouachita with its over-eager, fundamentalist, Victorian match-making ways only to get engaged to a fellow Ouachitonian second semester of senior year. We know you are. We know what you did. All the while, those who unfortunately remain lonely...I mean single** up through senior year fear that someday soon they will become that awkward, unmarried, pew-to-themselves church-goer who gets banished to the widows' and divorcees' Sunday school class and gets match-made with every schmuck who breathes and owns a Bible. And while they wait for that day to come, they secretly wonder, "will I ever have sex?"




**This joke was stolen straight from Jonathan Acuff

#5: wondering if you're on a "hi"-basis with people

With the new school year quickly approaching and a whole new batch of freshman, transfers, and exchange students heading down to the Delph to take their place in Ouachita history-making, days of awkward mingling and acquaintance-building are soon to commence. These experiences combined with the ratio of student population to campus size have the potential to create a variety of uncomfortable side-walk scenarios for us Ouachita students. In order to help you in your time of need, I have created a list of options for gauging whether or not you are on a "hi"-basis with someone:

Scenario 1: You chatted at the Campus Ministries Mixer for 5-10 minutes, but you can't really remember his name.
Consider yourself on a "hi" but not "hi, how are you? let's stop and chat for a while"-basis. If he looks confused, maybe you should just let this one go. If it is now April, and several months have passed since your meeting, perhaps don't even go there.

Scenario 2: You were in a WOW group together.
Unless you had some serious DMC and have been daily chatting ever since about the status of your ailing grandmother, you are not on a "hi"-basis. The month is irrelevant. Trust me on this one. Been there, tried that. The results are usually catastrophic. If you must interact, keep it to a smile.

Scenario 3: You are on the same intramural team, but you've never really talked.
Consider yourself on a "bro-bump"-basis. This is especially appropriate if you are wearing your team t-shirt, for it helps clear up confusion and possibly even injury if your bro fails to return the bump. If you're a girl, a high five or enthusiastic thumbs up with wink will suffice.

Scenario 4: Someone you've never seen before thinks you are on a "hi, how are you?"-basis.
This is bound to happen considering the general level of friendliness of Ouachita students. If a conversation ensues, keep it to vague generalities like the weather and how brutal waking up for 8:00 classes is. If names are called for, stick to the ever-helpful "girl, dude, bro, etc." The use of Ebonics often helps, as well, to foster a sense of community and light-heartedness when genuine intimacy is lacking. Under no circumstances should you start guessing about info. If necessary, fake a black-out or bathroom emergency, and get out of there, stat!

Alternatives: If you would like to avoid having to make an assessment about what basis you are on with that fellow sidewalk-walker altogether, there are a couple of options. There is the pretend-like-you're-talking-on-your-cellphone trick. It's slightly shameful but works every time. Also available is the hug-him-until-he-confesses-to-either-not-knowing-you-or-knowing-all-your-personal-information trick. Use this second one at your own risk.

#4: secretly wanting to be part of the refuge band

Donning v-necks, awesome hair, and sometimes flannel, they grace the stage of 2nd Baptist Church every Thursday night. They are...the Refuge band. Now, given the unholy (or perhaps very holy) amount of musical talent wandering around Ouachita, unfortunately some Chris Tomlins and CeCe Winans-to-Be's will not be able to be a part of the Refuge band. It's just not numerically possible or practical to change up who's playing lead or who's on keys every week. Perhaps, you are a student who has been disappointed by this reality. Maybe you, now a senior, have hoped every fall that this would be your year--the year your worship-leading dreams come to fruition and you, too, get to own that v-neck, son. Well, don't lose heart, my friend, for I have created a list of viable ways for you to up your chances of getting that spot in the Thursday-night line-up.

1. Sit next to James Taylor at Refuge.
Don't hold back as you belt out those harmonies during "Revelation Song." Drum on the pew, so he sees that you also have rhythm. If he's prayerfully closing his eyes, bust out that steel guitar and let your gentle rifts waft into his ears as you drift your way into his melodious heart.

2. Don't waste an opportunity.
Dino's Karaoke nights. CAB coffee houses. Jam sessions on the Bridge. These are your times to shine, friend. Sure, maybe other people are singing Beyonce or Damien Rice songs, but that doesn't mean that you can't break into a little Matt Redman. Make sure when you play, you highlight your ability to make a capo-switch in 3 seconds flat and smoothly pray a prayer for the sole purpose of a key change. Like the old saying goes, there ain't no party like a Hillsong party.

3. Network, network, network.
The surest way to get invited to jam with the Refuge Band is by befriending its leader. Keep an eye out for any up-and-coming worship leaders amongst your classmates. Who's been invited to play at Noon Day? Any guest leaders on Thursday nights recently? Who's that carrying their guitar to the caf? Any names coming to mind? You know what to do: befriend them so fast they don't even know what hit them. If skills of observation fail you in this mission, don't hesitate to have a friend create a diversion in the CM office while you pilfer through the Ministry Leader applications.

4. Inception.
If all above methods fail, you+ Leo DiCaprio+ that guy from "500 Days of Summer"+ a crazy suitcase with an I.V. thing attached to it= fool-proof plan. You'll be in there like swimwear faster than you sing the bridge of "How Great is Our God."

#3: hating on OBU rules aloud while secretly appreciating the way they make room for nakedness

I have a love-hate relationship with the OBU "closed-dorm" policy. On the one hand, I resent the way it transforms the message sent by inviting a co-ed over to watch a movie from, "hey, I wanna be your friend, and I think it's great that that I finally found someone else who will gladly watch all the Star Wars movies in consecutive order with me," to "hey, I think you're marriage material. Let's have some shoe-in-the-door quality time together and see what happens."

On the other hand, though, throughout my entire three years at Ouachita, I have been spared from the shock of walking in on my roommate and her boyfriend getting to know each other in the Biblical sense. And let us not forget the significance of the way "closed-dorm" makes Ouachita dormitories clothing-optional. Let's have a moment of honesty here: nakedness is liberating. I mean, how many of us can sincerely say that if we were shipwrecked on an abandoned island, and there were no other survivors, that we wouldn't frolic around in our birthday suits? I know engineering a dress out of fig leaves would not be my first priority.

However, one important tip to remember while you embrace the possibilities created for you by the "closed-dorm" policy is to make sure your window shades are closed. With the close proximity of some dorms--i.e. those in Freshman Island--you, my Francis-Crawford-dwelling friend, may soon find yourself posed with the age old question: "Who told you you were naked?" To which you will reply, "Whelp, Perrin 3rd Floor did, sir."

#2: thinking social clubs are either the only way to make friends or straight from the pit of hell

As a Christian, Baptist, and avid reader of God's Word, I know that there are no gray areas in life. There is black, and there is white. This truth is similar to the way that there is only Heaven and Hell (contrary to what those other non-Bible-reading "Christians" believe. All I'm saying is that I never heard the word "purgatory" come out of Jesus' mouth.) Thus, it is only natural that students at Ouachita would take a similar stance on the controversial issue of social clubs. There are two camps: Camp A, those who hate social clubs with a righteous, stabbing-adulterers-with-a-tent-peg kind of anger, and Camp B, those who think everyday is letter-day Wednesday. There is no middle ground.

Camp A:
A mixture of proud-to-be-Indies and de-pledges, these students have a variety of ways of distinguishing themselves. During rush week, you'll often catch them in the chapel, praying that those vulnerable freshman will walk in the light and steer clear of the Dark Side. On Bid Day, you'll find them partying it up at Pancake Palooza. And during pledge week, they will attend Indie Skate Night, where they will be reassured that they do indeed have friends. At Refuge (for, of course, all Indies are Refuge attenders), you might just overhear them praying a prayer of thanksgiving to God for giving them the self-confidence and general hipness they needed to be able to make friends without the crutch of organized camaraderie.

Camp B (or if written on a poster, Camp Beee):
Camp Beeesters look forward to Wednesdays--and really every other day that ends in "Y"--when they get to support their club by wearing letters. Now just in case you are wondering about what I mean when I say letters, don't be confused. They do not actually wear letters of the Amuhrican alphabet. Those funny Greek squigglies are not New Testament quotes but in fact respresentations of club names. I know it's all a little perplexing, but with the help of flash cards, a $400 membership fee, and a t-shirt to commemorate this day, soon you too can understand. Members of Camp B know that the only way to truly form week-long friendships, to always have peeps to sit with in the Caf, and to master the art of making posters with glitter is to pledge. Sure, they miss the days when Tiger Tunes was actually fun, but there are more important things in life, like finding a spouse. And every Ouachitonian knows that the best way to have your sister find you a mister is up in 'da club.

#1: being prayerfully concerned for those who have mixed up their priorities by placing school above friends

Despite what that brochure said and despite what that $23,000 a year check from your parents to Ouachita implied, you did not come to Ouachita to study. You came to make friends. Why else would Ouachita offer enough extra-curricular activities for you to remain free time and sleeptimeless year-round? And with a library that closes at 11:00? Puh-lease! Every college student knows that no valuable homeworking occurs before midnight.

Oh, Ouachita, we see through your facade. Your ruse is clever, but we have the Word on our side. Liberal Arts, Schmiberal Arts, here at OBU, we are a Hebrews 10:25 people. I don't see anything about attending class in that passage. But through looking at the cultural context and crossing that 'ole principlizing bridge, one can clearly see that this verse leaves room--dare I say even encourages--2:00AM Taco Bell runs. And just in case that's not enough to convince you, try Acts 4:34-35 on for size. Many a time last year, I chose to forgo completing a reading assignment in order to have some DMC (deep meaningful conversation) with a troubled peer at Starbucks. That, my friends, is the body of Christ at work.

However, every year there are those unfortunate students who lose sight of the path, who mix up their priorities by placing grades above fellowship. You have probably had a friend who struggled in this way. At first the sign were subtle--a shady-buttoned phone call, a missed Noon Day--but then they worsened. Soon your friend started sitting at the anti-social cubbies in the library and actually turned down camping at The Rock in order to work on a research paper. Now we who stick to the narrow path realize that caring about grades more than 24/7 fellowship is darn near idolatry. I mean, who told him that he needed to make all A's and B's? I suspect it was that prideful sin nature coming back to haunt him once again. For, if his faith were truly strong, he would trust God to provide him with other forms of financial aid when he loses that scholarship or goes on academic probation. Thankfully, there are a variety of ways to rescue a friend who has mixed up her priorities. You should not hesitate to hide her textbooks or turn off her alarm in order to remind her how liberating skipping class feels. However, usually the most effective way to confront a stumbling friend is through assertive, face-to-face intervention. You may have to kidnap him in the middle of the night and take him Waffle House for the conversation if worst comes to worst. But just remember, you are doing this out of love.