Go Heels, Go America

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It's Wednesday of the first of the two most important days of the year. 

The day when The Carolina Tar Heels play the Duke Dook Blue Devils.

The eternal battle of good v. evil, heaven v. hell, right v. wrong, plays out tonight on the hardwood floor in Durham. 

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And, because it will never grow old,

I offer to you two of the best articles ever written:

Article 1: Why I Hate Duke // Article 2: Why I Still Hate Duke

Any my favorite excerpt,

which does its best to explain

just what this rivalry means to all of us

that bleed our perfect shade of Carolina Blue,

and believe in our Southern Piece of Heaven:

"Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people, but I’ll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testaments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squandering their parents’ money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham."

It's a Great Day To Be A Tar Heel!

GO HEELS, GO AMERICA!

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Good v. Evil

Tonight is one of the two most important days of the year. Seriously.

Twice a year The Purest of Good battles The Purest of Evils.

And it takes place on the hardwood.

Yep, that's right: the Carolina Tar Heels v. the Dook Blue Devils.

Every year I plan to post this article, written by Ian Williams, which explains my mentality on the matter to a T. Seriously, this is an accurate representation of the mentality of this rivalry.

So please, make sure you're rooting for Good to prevail over Evil.

LET'S GO TAR HEELS!

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"Why I Hate Duke"

By Ian Williams

I recall a strange and hazy time about four and a half years ago, fretting in the sweltering heat of Hinton James 244, sitting on my bed while the rest of the residents scurried outside.

My suitemate from Brevard was parading his spittle collection, a particularly nauseating mass of his oral waste that he kept in three 2-liter bottles above the door. My roommate spoke in a dialect from Edenton that barely passed for anything on our side of the language tree, and the only things I had to wear in the 105-degree weather were corduroy pants from my goofball private high school. Tripping over bricks, showing up for classes in rooms miles away from where the classes were taught and getting lost by the water tower, I might as well have had a huge placard wrapped around my neck that said "Oh so clueless" and a number to call in case anybody found me peeing in his yard.

But there was a time before that. I call it The Time When I Thought I Wanted to Go to Duke.

For some unexplainable reasons having to do with planetary alignment or a chemical imbalance, I was set on going to that university in Durham. My high school in Virginia brainwashed us all into thinking that if we didn't end up going to either Duke, UVA, or one of the Ivys we would surely end up stocking Pampers at Wal-Mart. So off I scuttled to those schools, all bushy-tailed and bated, hopin' to impress some institutes of higher learning. By the time I got to visiting Duke, however, the luster of collegge had begun to dull into a bleak haze.

My tour guide's name was Lorna- no lie- and she spoke in a loud, brash voice that seemed to shake the leaves from the cute little shrubberies. "And on your left is Duke Chapel, the centerpiece of our Gothic campus. Our university is considered by many to be the most beautiful campus in America."

"Umm, excuse me," I said, "Where do all the kids live?"

"The kids," she said, in a voice of utter disdain reserved only for parents whose child has been very, very naughty. "The Duke student body mostly lives in the buildings you are looking at right here, with the beautiful Gothic architecture."

"Well, how hard are the classes here? Would I be studying all the time?"

She fixed her cruel New Jersey gaze on my frightened 17-year-old soul. "Look, that's totally assuming you even get in here at all. I know tons of people that would have given their left arm to get in here. And not only that, but- Oh, hi, Thad!" Some senior named Thad wearing Vuarnets and baggy khaki shorts ambled up with an evil Gleem smile.

"Leadin' the kids around, eh Lorna?" he asked, and cackled like the frat Grinch.

"Yeah," she giggled, and the two whispered to each other while exchanging muffled laughs.

I was herded into the cafeteria and stuck in a line for pizza, while Lorna went off into the crowd with some of her friends. A scowling guy slapped a piece of rubber pepperoni pizza on my plate, and as I walked across the room to sit down, I tripped on one of those Gothic little cherub things on the floor and sent my pizza flying 20 feet onto the sweater of a girl named Annabeth, a junior English major from Bridgeport, Connecticut.

"Oh my God!" she squealed, and every face in the entire joint looked right at me. Thad the sunglasses man started to clap, and half of the cafeteria joined in my humiliation.

Suddenly, I was back in third grade, and all the boys and girls were pointing and laughing at the picture I'd drawn of my family. Suddenly, I was sitting alone at the side of the blacktop while everyone else got picked for the dodgeball team. Suddenly, I was lying in the Iowa snow, getting my ribs kicked by five guys who thought I'd stolen their football. I had no escape.

And that's when I decided to go to Carolina. I had never seen the place, had never heard of Chapel Hill and I picked Hinton James because it had a laundry room. After a while I grew used to the town- I didn't get lost behind the water tower; I learned where Gardner Hall was; and I began to enjoy the company of my suitemate, despite his spittle collection. I also developed a taste for basketball, and during the games I noticed that we had certain heated rivalries- whenever we played one of those teams, I got tense and dug holes in the seat.

Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people, but I'll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testiments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squadering their parents' money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham.

So this is my request, boys of basketball: Tonight, I not only want you to win, I want Krzyzewski calling home to his mother with tears in his eyes. I want Alaa Abdelnaby to throw up brick after brick. I want Rick Fox to take Christian Laettner to the hoop so many times that poor Christian will be dazed on the bench with an Etch-a-Sketch and a box of Crayola crayons. I want Bobby Hurley to trip on his shoelaces and fly into a fat alumnus from Wilimington. Send Thad and Lorna home with their blue tails between their legs.

God bless them Tar Heel boys!

Editor's note: Ian Willaims, a 1990 UNC alumnus, was a columnist for The Daily Tar Heel in the spring 1990 semester. The DTH management felt that its thematic content remains relevant as a wonderful reminder of why we hate Duke. The column ran Jan 17, 1990- that night, the Tar Heels stomped the Blue Devils by 19.

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Down With Dook

There is only one thing that needs to be said today:

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But, I'll echo that sentiment with these:

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RAH! RAH! CAROLINA-LINA!

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Gone To Carolina...

This weekend is Homecoming at UNC...

AND I'M GOING WITH MY DAD!

I cannot wait to walk on campus,

eat NC BBQ,

have a ballroom lesson,

eat NC BBQ,

wander around Franklin Street,

and just enjoy being home.

March Sadness

I live in a house divided.

Dad - UK Alum

Me - UNC Alum

Mom - "Impartial" (would rather see UNC>UK)

Last night, Dad's team won. Sigh.

Kentucky Wildcats in the Final Four

Versus UConn

(which is also hard - growing up in New England

I know a bunch of people that went to UConn,

not to mention both my parents are from CT.

Needless to say,

This tournament has been a rough one!

But aren't they every year?)

Mind you,

this is also the first March Madness game

that I have been able to watch in two years.

Clearly I should have picked an earlier game!

My Heart Attack Heels were back in the house.

However,

My Tar Heels,

they weren't even supposed to make it this far!

ACC Outright Champs?

Elite Eight?

Not too shabby for a predominantly freshman team, no?

Now, if all of them will just hang around for another year,

next year could be 2009 all over again.

HARK THE SOUND!

Let's Go Tar Heels

Now, I rarely post more than once in a day, but I feel it's necessary to take a break from the Blog Challenge for a moment. You can consider this my public service announcement.

Tonight one of the two most important yearly basketball matches in the history of the world and all things college basketball will take place.

My beloved, angelic, wonderful, great and mighty University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill TAR HEELS will be taking on the evil, horrible, cheating Dook Blue Devils.

Unfortunately the game is being played at 9pm (at dook, blahhh!) - meaning 3am here. Oh dear. Maybe I can wake up and try and find it streaming online. I'll have to try.

My blood is already pumping.

My heart is leaping out of my chest.

Come on Roy!

Come on Tar Heels!

Let's BEAT DOOK!!

nothing is more beautiful than Carolina in Spring

late night with Roy - 2009

Graduation - 2007

The Bell Tower at Twilight

The Dean Dome!

National Championship Celebration

Franklin Street - 2005

(This is also what Franklin Street

looks like after a victory over Dook!

I hope it looks like this TONIGHT!!!)

And, a reprint of one of the most amazing articles ever written:

"Why I Hate Duke"

By Ian Williams

recall a strange and hazy time about four and a half years ago, fretting in the sweltering heat of Hinton James 244, sitting on my bed while the rest of the residents scurried outside.

My suitemate from Brevard was parading his spittle collection, a particularly nauseating mass of his oral waste that he kept in three 2-liter bottles above the door. My roommate spoke in a dialect from Edenton that barely passed for anything on our side of the language tree, and the only things I had to wear in the 105-degree weather were corduroy pants from my goofball private high school. Tripping over bricks, showing up for classes in rooms miles away from where the classes were taught and getting lost by the water tower, I might as well have had a huge placard wrapped around my neck that said "Oh so clueless" and a number to call in case anybody found me peeing in his yard.

But there was a time before that. I call it The Time When I Thought I Wanted to Go to Duke.

For some unexplainable reasons having to do with planetary alignment or a chemical imbalance, I was set on going to that university in Durham. My high school in Virginia brainwashed us all into thinking that if we didn't end up going to either Duke, UVA, or one of the Ivys we would surely end up stocking Pampers at Wal-Mart. So off I scuttled to those schools, all bushy-tailed and bated, hopin' to impress some institutes of higher learning. By the time I got to visiting Duke, however, the luster of collegge had begun to dull into a bleak haze.

My tour guide's name was Lorna- no lie- and she spoke in a loud, brash voice that seemed to shake the leaves from the cute little shrubberies. "And on your left is Duke Chapel, the centerpiece of our Gothic campus. Our university is considered by many to be the most beautiful campus in America."

"Umm, excuse me," I said, "Where do all the kids live?"

"The kids," she said, in a voice of utter disdain reserved only for parents whose child has been very, very naughty. "The Duke student body mostly lives in the buildings you are looking at right here, with the beautiful Gothic architecture."

"Well, how hard are the classes here? Would I be studying all the time?"

She fixed her cruel New Jersey gaze on my frightened 17-year-old soul. "Look, that's totally assuming you even get in here at all. I know tons of people that would have given their left arm to get in here. And not only that, but- Oh, hi, Thad!" Some senior named Thad wearing Vuarnets and baggy khaki shorts ambled up with an evil Gleem smile.

"Leadin' the kids around, eh Lorna?" he asked, and cackled like the frat Grinch.

"Yeah," she giggled, and the two whispered to each other while exchanging muffled laughs.

I was herded into the cafeteria and stuck in a line for pizza, while Lorna went off into the crowd with some of her friends. A scowling guy slapped a piece of rubber pepperoni pizza on my plate, and as I walked across the room to sit down, I tripped on one of those Gothic little cherub things on the floor and sent my pizza flying 20 feet onto the sweater of a girl named Annabeth, a junior English major from Bridgeport, Connecticut.

"Oh my God!" she squealed, and every face in the entire joint looked right at me. Thad the sunglasses man started to clap, and half of the cafeteria joined in my humiliation.

Suddenly, I was back in third grade, and all the boys and girls were pointing and laughing at the picture I'd drawn of my family. Suddenly, I was sitting alone at the side of the blacktop while everyone else got picked for the dodgeball team. Suddenly, I was lying in the Iowa snow, getting my ribs kicked by five guys who thought I'd stolen their football. I had no escape.

And that's when I decided to go to Carolina. I had never seen the place, had never heard of Chapel Hill and I picked Hinton James because it had a laundry room. After a while I grew used to the town- I didn't get lost behind the water tower; I learned where Gardner Hall was; and I began to enjoy the company of my suitemate, despite his spittle collection. I also developed a taste for basketball, and during the games I noticed that we had certain heated rivalries- whenever we played one of those teams, I got tense and dug holes in the seat.

Now I realize that school spirit is a pretty goofy thing to some people, but I'll tell you something: I hate Duke with an infernal passion undying. I hate every leaf of every tree on that sickening campus. I hate every fake cherub Gothic piece of crap that litters the buildings like hemorrhoidal testiments to imagined superiority. When I see those Dookie boneheads shoe-polishing their faces navy blue on television, squadering their parents' money with their fratty elitist bad sportsmanship antics and Saab stories, I want to puke all over Durham.

So this is my request, boys of basketball: Tonight, I not only want you to win, I want Krzyzewski calling home to his mother with tears in his eyes. I want Alaa Abdelnaby to throw up brick after brick. I want Rick Fox to take Christian Laettner to the hoop so many times that poor Christian will be dazed on the bench with an Etch-a-Sketch and a box of Crayola crayons. I want Bobby Hurley to trip on his shoelaces and fly into a fat alumnus from Wilimington. Send Thad and Lorna home with their blue tails between their legs.

God bless them Tar Heel boys!

Editor's note: Ian Willaims, a 1990 UNC alumnus, was a columnist for The Daily Tar Heel in the spring 1990 semester. The DTH management felt that its thematic content remains relevant as a wonderful reminder of why we hate Duke. The column ran Jan 17, 1990- that night, the Tar Heels stomped the Blue Devils by 19.

[source]

Catching-Up: US Style

So, the last time I posted - like really posted - I had been home for only five short days. It's been over a month - and what a whirlwind of life experiences that has been! Though, it is kindof nice to be back in the dorm and be able to sleep in until I want and live at a more relaxed pace - it was a trip that I wish was still going on!

So, after being at home for a few weeks and enjoying the beautiful New England weather - which I was blessed to have - because as anyone who lives in New England knows, April weather is look-out-your-window weather. It can snow, hail, rain, be 90+ degreres out - and all in one day! Case-in-point, the week before I came home they had rains that flooded out roads and bridges and such. I, fortunately, had none of that!

As you also read, in a tiny post, I went to NC for a week! I love that state. On the way down I stopped in Baltimore to visit with an old friend. I should have got there about 6pm - but stupid I95 decided to sit in place for no reason - twice - and I didn't get there until close to 9! Didn't matter though, Jes and I met her hubby out at a bar, where he was hanging out with some friends, and chatted there some. And then went back to her place and proceeded to chat until about, oh, 2am! I miss her every time I talk to her! Oh to be back in the states....

After a bit of sleeping in, I left for NC. Thank God for audio books though! What A drive that is. But I really don't mind it. I'm pretty at ease behind the wheel and let a lot of sill traffic things roll off my back (but yes, I do have my driving pet peeves....) However, what makes the drive most worth it is the part where it's about to be over. Every single time I drive back across the town line into Chapel Hill I wonder why I left. Which is probably a good thing, right? That I didn't just love it while I was there, but it truly became a part of who I am and what I love.

oh Chapel Hill, you are my heart!

I stayed with two friends who got married in August (and I, *gulp*, missed their wedding because I was in Budapest...) for a few days. We went out to dinner, went to the zoo, threw a baby shower, and all around had an awesome and amazing time. It was so nice to reconnect (in person) again. Email and phones are great, but there is nothing better than sitting across the table from an old friend over good food and just laughing the night away.

Carrie at the NC zoo :)

After the weekend I stayed with my old roommate/best friend/etc. She had to work most days, so our catching up was done in the evenings over food and small events. I've missed her so, but at the same time it feels like no real time has passed when we're together. That's the mark of a good friendship, I've decided at this point in my life. To be away from each other for months at a time and to come back together and just fall back into place. While in CH I also: went fencing, went to aerials, went to lunch with old professors, old friends, and other assorted people. I drank way too much coffee, ate far too much of the food I've missed, and stayed up way too late.

Me and Lori, right before I was going to hop in the car to drive north.

I also did a mass amount of research for my thesis. Which is awesome. But even more important than that, academically, I made some awesome connections. And these connections led to other connections - which have left me emailing with the TOP GUY in my field of study. Who, not to pat myself on the back too early, thinks my research topic/idea/hodgepodge is amazing and wishes he could be my advisor as well! There is nothing like the affirmation that what you're doing is both interesting, worthwhile, and meaningful. So. Happy.

And then I headed back north. With a stopover in DC this time - I got in around 6 (no real traffic south-north, fortunately) and met my old college/fencing friend Sallie at a place her boyfriend's band was playing. We listened to them (who are an awesome cover band) until they were done at 10 and then went back to her place to just chat, laugh, and sleep. I really hate that all my friends are so spread out now! College was so easy with everyone in one place. But, I guess that just means I have great places to visit now!

And after a second stopover in CT to meet my mom and visit with my great-aunt (who's 94th birthday was the 4th of May!!) I finally got home - just in time to pack me and my dad up to go to Paris!

But, that is for my next post.... :)

Rah-Rah Carolina-lina, Go To Hell Dook!

Today is one of the two biggest days of the year.

Today is the day where the battle between good and evil will be played out on the hardwood. It is the day where all those who worship the god of the True Blue fall to their knees and scream at the refs (even if the calls are the right ones). It is the day where we hope that Coach Ksadkf;riowe leaves the Dean Dome with tears in his eyes.

I'm normally a very nice and pleasant person. I rarely have bad things to say about people and I normally do not wish failure on anyone. But today is a different day; today is an exception to the rule.

Today is the day of the Carolina/Duke rivalry.

And though we've been having a down year, I know that my boys are going to take to the court and fight as though their lives depend on it (and in Chapel Hill, they kinda do). Tonight they're going to have a fire in their eyes that no one has seen this year so far. Nothing, and I mean nothing, rials up a team like the prospect of beating their rival down to size.

Look at years past when one team has had an off year - the game was still close. Why? Because it maters that much.

What I mean to say is - don't write off my boys just yet, they may surprise you.

Let's go get 'em Heels!

Place For My Head [Linkin Park]

A quick little post because I really, really want to go to bed before midnight tonight.

Should I go to bed before midnight?

Probably not.

I finished one of my last two papers an emailed it in about an hour ago (and have been lost in internets-land since then). I'm not totally happy with it, but it's done and that's all that I can really ask for at the moment. But I really should get a chunk of the other one written. Not that I can do too much of it just yet (it's a book review, and I haven't quite finished the book yet). So, instead I am giving myself an evening to watch some TV or a movie and get some sleep. The combination of Jet Lag and staying up too late working on this paper is catching up to me.

Oh, yeah, the Public Transit Strike. It's really, really cold. As in really, really cold. It's a long mile to walk in the early morning light and the buildings and the sky are all so grey. I'm just really glad I went grocery shopping before the strike - it would be a long walk with those heavy bags!

This is my (probably futile) attempt at the Project: 365 Photo Thingamabob.

Tuesday: So, I'm back in the dorm. I bought some of the ticky-tack-gum stuff to put up a posters (my lovely Tar Heel Basketball schedule/ Celebrating 100 years of Carolina Basketball!) and postcards so that it doesn't look quite like a white box. It's still tiny, but it at least has a little character. (Side note, I'd love to trade postcards with anyone who's interested! Live anywhere interesting? Got cool postcards from your hometown?)

Here's my lovely decorated wall:

Wednesday: This evening I recycled most (2/3) my materials for last semester. This includes handouts, PDFs I printed out, and papers I wrote that I'm not attached to the comments given on them and I have them on my computer, and other assorted paper things. I doubt I'll need them again, and if I do I'll have access to them still.

But still, it was a lot of paper.

I feel like the Lorax would be giving me a stern lecture if he could see. But at least I recycled them, right? I just cannot stand reading articles on the computer. My eyes hurt after a few pages, I get headaches (no, I don't need glasses, I went to the eye doctor back in August and I still have 20/15 vision, be jealous), and I just love making notes and highlighting the paper.

Here's some photo proof of the massive amount of trees I recycled. Let's home in Hungary the paper in the recycling bin actually makes it to a recycling plant.

In really sad news, a favorite professor of mine from my freshman year (yeah, I only took one class with him, but it was probably my most memorable class of that year!) passed away today after a long battle with cancer. Kenneth Strong was in a lot of plays at Carolina as well in some movies and TV shows - he was a somewhat but not really regular judge on Law and Order too!

My favorite part of his class was that every day we came in to the lecture hall he would have all 100+ of us stand up and he would blast some awesomely horrible song over the speakers and we had to dance for a good minute. I mean had to dance. He would come arond and force you to stand if you were sitting, grab your arms and twirl you around if you weren't dancing, and other things. It was such a great way to start class and I will never forget him for that. Please keep him and his family in your prayers!