Brooke Dennison

We all know that we are in the final push before Thanksgiving Break … seeing as I have a scene performance for my acting class tomorrow and I have not finished memorizing my lines (@ my procrastinating blog post), I decided to keep this simple … So for this week’s blog, I’m gonna tell y’all my picks for what to listen to, watch, and read over break.  (Basically, this is just a list of my favorite artists, movies, and books.)

 

To Listen:

The song listed below is currently the only thing playing on my Spotify, so really I’m just going to list this one song, but it’s worth it.

1. Maggie Rogers — “Light On”

(You can also check out the artists NEEDTOBREATHE, Ben Rector, and Chris Young, though …)

To Watch:

1. Legally Blonde (… because if you haven’t, we can’t be friends.  And if you have, you know you need to do it again …)
2. Riverdale — I will be rewatching Season 1 to refresh, then binging Season 2 in order to start Season 3
3. The Heat — if you need a good laugh, start here 
4. Elf — because once Thanksgiving hits, I will be watching this once a week …

To Read:

Okay, up until now you may have known of all of the things I’ve listed so far, but you might not know these books.  The first* two are geared towards people who love books … if you read a lot, these books are absolutely phenomenal.  The third might be my favorite read so far — it’s much more light-hearted, and it’s comprised of short-stories/essays for people who are looking for less pages.  (*Order not according to preference*)

1. “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” by Junot Diaz
2. “Americanah” by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
3. “I Was Told There’d Be Cake” by Sloane Crosley 

 

Since I’m going to attempt to stop procrastinating my scene now, I’ll end this post here … Hope y’all get some quality time to listen, watch, and read.  Check back after break for more posts!

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

As I stare blankly at a white screen, void of any writing that needed to be done for this blog, I realize what I’m doing: procrastinating.

Since I evidently had writer’s block and was procrastinating my post, I chose the very meta route.  So, welcome to The Art of Procrastinating.

I would definitely call myself a serial procrastinator.  I submit things (such as these blogs, hehe sorry Jim!) at the very last minute, and quite honestly find some thrill in that.  Midnight deadlines call my name, and the “Submitted at 11:59pm” message has become tantamount to receiving a good grade.

I can’t comprehend starting an assignment weeks or even days before it’s due … with no deadline in sight, what is driving you to finish?  Upon asking this question in my head, I realized that this was the true meaning of procrastination for me: deadlines.  And so, I resolved to change the word with often negative connotations — I am not a procrastinator, I am simply “deadline driven.”

Put simply, I need a quickly approaching deadline to scare me into working.  Two hours to write a paper?  You got it.  Five days?  I’ll wait until the last two hours, but thanks for the notice.  The only thing having a lot of lead-time to finish an assignment does, is tell me on what day I’m going to be staying up later than usual, and how much caffeine I must consume to do so.

But, the reality is, procrastinating is hard … It’s not for everyone.  It’s a skill, perhaps even an art.  Because what happens if you miscalculate?  If you don’t hit “Submit” by your deadline?  If the message that comes after is red, and not green?  Admittedly, this has happened to me … but in some ways it made me stronger … it helped me find how much I can really handle.

So now?  Procrastinating to me is textbook.  There is no other way.  For my First-Year Writing Seminar, we have 5 page papers due almost every Monday.  When do I start them?  Sunday night.  When do I typically read the chapters that the paper is on?  Sunday night.  But this is not laziness … This is simply waiting for my drive to kick-in to high gear.  In some ways, maybe it’s patience for holding out this long.

Either way, I find myself sitting on the floor of the East 4 Hallway every Sunday night, book in hand, blanket wrapped around me, laptop burning my thighs … and I’ve come to seek this moment out.  I procrastinate these papers because it’s kind of fun in a way.  And, as I sit in Commons writing this blog, I know I will feel the same as I hit “Publish” in a few minutes – “Submitted at 11:59am.”

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

 

**note: this post should be read entirely sarcastically** 

Coming off the heels of fall break, I wasn’t entirely sure what to write about this week. Most people seemed to go home to see family and friends, or headed off campus for a few days to some place fun. I, however, stayed right here in Nashville! My best friend from high school came to visit, and we went to a concert for a singer named Ben Rector.

But, aside from the concert, we did very little… and, honestly? It was great. It was nice to simply catch up, both on life and on sleep, and just chill…

After an amazing night at the Ryman Auditorium watching Ben Rector, I immediately knew what I would write my blog on…

If you listen to the song, he sings about loving his “crazy normal” lifestyle.  I thought about some of these lyrics in the context of Vanderbilt, and, if nothing else, it sort of made me laugh at how relatable they could be.  (Lyrics in bold.)

He sings:

Last night was crazy, yeah we tore it up again / Kicked off our shoes and went to bed by 9pm / We were balling to Netflix / We turned it up to ten / Last night was crazy

Okay… but honestly… this was me… all weekend… with the exception of the three hours I went to the concert, Ellie and I spent the whole weekend binging The Office… and both of us have already watched the entire show… twice. (S2 E12)

I threw my hands up in the air / At that detective show we watch / You drank red wine and I had Brita on the rocks

And, if I’m not watching The Office or Friends, I’m almost always watching NCIS or Blue Bloods. Catch me on Thanksgiving break with nothing but my dogs and Leroy Jethro Gibbs… ALSO, Brita on the rocks?! Nothing has ever been more relatable to dorm-life and water fountains.

We got off work and met at Bed, Bath and Beyond / You looked at curtains, I bought a birthday card for mom

Before Ellie got here, I went to Target. I bought shampoo, toothpaste, and tissues. It was exhilarating. #relatablecontent

We wanted tacos, but the taco truck was gone / Last night was crazy, yeah

This. Was. Me. All. Weekend. With. Rand. Cookies… NOTHING but Commons was open!

I don’t know where all these party people at / You’ve gotta have a job and get some sleep, you do the math / And someone’s gotta pay for all those bottle service tabs / And that sounds crazy

Again… honestly… how relatable can this be??? Real question: how do people go out on Thursday nights?! Your girl has class from 10am-2pm on Fridays, and that is just not humanly possible after a Thursday night out… Ben Rector, I feel you, man.

But, while all of this was/is/will continue to be relatable, Ben also sings:

Yeah, we’re living fast and free / Here on our favorite street / So raise your glass with me, oh / You know we’re going hard / And that we’re living large / Right here in our backyard, oh / This life is crazy

And I think that’s the most relatable part. Yeah, not every night is a party… maybe not even most nights are. But the daily things that make each of us happy, or maybe even make us annoyed, or the times we splurge for that pint of Blue Bunny ice cream at Munchie even though it costs meal money… yeah, “this life is crazy.”

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

At a certain point each term, the world seems to move slower than usual. A fifty-minute class suddenly feels like two hours; waking up at 9am seems far too early for even “morning people;” Monday morning coffee only does so much; and, the rain feels like yet another addition to a world seemingly out to get each and every one of us.

This seems to be a roadblock that all students face regardless of who they are, or even where they attend school. The phenomenon? The midterm slump.

Midterms in college are tricky, though, because midterm exams don’t all happen at the same time. Some “midterms” are in the fourth week of school, and some classes have no “midterms” at all. Some people (I am deeply sorry for you) have three midterms on one day, and some people get lucky (yay English majors!) and have no midterm exams, but rather several papers.

This diversity in both testing and timing seemingly makes the midterm slump even worse for most people. The midterm slump seems to drag on, requiring more energy to overcome its power as the days advance.

Even if you take exams or papers out of the equation, though, I believe the midterm slump would still exist. Why? Well, by now we are half way through the term (hence, midterm,) and things are staring to die down. The excitement of a new school has faded, and Parents Weekend has come and gone, along with tailgates and the fleeting hope that Vandy Football may actually cause an upset. With only days until Fall Break, we seem to be counting the seconds until the we can momentarily escape the VU Bubble.

So if this midterm slump would exist regardless of the amount of tests or projects due, it means that the time of year is likely what causes its existence. The people (us, the students) are fed up with the mundane nature of the daily class schedule, and potentially unhappy with things that have occurred thus far. As Vandy students, perhaps we are frustrated with the administration’s lack of support for the football team, perhaps we dislike the way our professors grade, or perhaps we don’t have specific frustrations at all, rather, we are simply sick of Commons food. In a college setting, this all may be important to us, or maybe it is not. But, regardless, we get a quick Fall Break, and then must return again in order to finish out the term.

When you take a step outside of our community, though, I think the term “midterm slump” gains even more significance. It is not fresh news (or at least hopefully it is not) that the Midterm Elections are quickly approaching. The deadlines for registering to vote have almost all passed, and the coverage of the Midterms gets more intense by the second.

Held two years after Presidential Elections, the Midterm Elections determine the outcome of one-third of the Senate seats, as well as all 435 House seats. In a politcal sense, the “midterm slump” refers to the pattern of results that the Midterm Elections have taken over the years. This pattern is not favorable toward the President’s party- only twice in the 21 midterm elections since 1934 has the Presidential party gained seats in both the House and Senate. Typically, the controlling party loses its control, creating an average deficit of thirty seats. This type of “midterm slump” has been defined and explained by several different theories, but regardless of the reasons, the data remains: the party of the White House almost always loses seats.

I think this is likely caused by a renewed sense of drive, a spark, by the minority party. After two years, the minority party has policy to rally around- ways to energize their constituents in order to vote out the opposing congressmen (& congresswomen, duh.)

So, what does this all have to do with us, and our “midterm slump?” Well, I think it sort of requires the same type of action: as mundane as the days can feel, and as far away as Fall Break feels (lol it’s literally in two hours), we have to find that renewed sense of motivation that the minority party seems to thrive off of.

Even when we return from a few (very necessary) days off, we will need to find some way to motivate ourselves through the weeks leading up until Thanksgiving. It’s certainly not easy- in fact, I’m pretty terrible at it. But, we have to cultivate that spark.  And, in the chilly Fall weather that Nashville has provided us with, there seems like plenty to do: S’Memorial sounds great, maybe we can play with some dogs outside, walk to Jeni’s, hit the lib with some hot chocolate, or potentially even tune into the Midterm Elections. No matter what you do, find your spark (your grades are probably depending on it.) 

PS: Whether you want to decrease the likely hood of a Congressional midterm slump or contribute to the flip of Congress, go vote!  #getoutthevote

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

In the fall of my Senior year, I embarked on an extremely un-epic journey of several college tours (sporting my Stans, of course). I had no idea where I wanted to go to school, so I decided to cram five tours into the span of six days. 

I started with a drive from NJ to DE, then packed my bags for a train ride to Charlottesville, VA the next morning. My mom and I got off the train in Charlottesville, took an Uber to the Enterprise Car pick-up, and attempted to pull open the door. When the door wouldn’t budge, we realized the pick-up closed at 2:00pm on Sundays, and we were just 20 minutes too late… the already stressful weekend was not off to a good start.

After three college tours, and many many hours of driving spanning VA and North Carolina, my mom and I rushed out of a UNC tour, hopped back into the car, and drove straight to the Raleigh-Durham airport. We were extremely late, and the possibility of missing our flight became more real by the second. We needed to get home on time so that I could meet my dad and fly to Northwestern, and later, Vanderbilt.  The only thing stopping us from making the flight, though? Not traffic, not security lines… no… I was starving. 

I was unbearably hungry, and for some inexplicable reason, had been craving Chic Fil A for days. The moment we got through the security line, I yelled to my mom: “I am going to get food!” She called after me, remarking that I was about to miss the flight, but I was already off… I needed to eat.

I saw an A&W Chicken, and immediately got in line. I ordered chicken fingers and french fries, paid, and stood in line waiting. But as I waited, the clock ticked on and on, and my phone was blowing up with messages: “we are boarding,” “you better hurry up,” “you’re going to miss this flight.”

I knew I had to leave if I wanted to catch this flight… so, against my hungry wishes, I turned to the guy standing next to me and said: “I have to leave. If you want my chicken fingers, you can have them!” and quickly ran off. He shouted behind me: “what gate are you at?”, I replied: “C9! But it’s fine, keep them!”

Running down the corridor, I slid in line next my mom just in time to scan my ticket. As I caught my breath to board the plane, I told her what happened: “I couldn’t wait long enough to get my food, so I told some guy to eat it. He asked for my gate number, but I think they closed the doors.” 

As the doors shut and the last few people piled onto the plane, a flight attendant shouted from the very first row: “Hey, special delivery! Is this anybody’s chicken fingers? Some random guy said that a girl on here is missing her food?”

Somewhat embarrassed, but far more shocked, I popped my head up from behind the seat (of course, I was sitting in the very last row.) “Yeah, that would be mine,” I said, and we took the awkward 54-aisle walk towards each other. 

As I grabbed the bag of hot chicken fingers, my mind was spinning… some random stranger really ran down the Raleigh Airport hallway to give another random stranger my food… why???

To be honest, I have no idea why… and I really don’t think there was a specific “reason”, per say. Rather, it was a simple act of kindness. A way of saying “you are loved,” or maybe even just a random guy thinking that some girl looked really hungry and should get her food. No matter the reason though, it was kindness. It was caring. It was a very small act that strengthened my faith in the goodness of people.

After three college tours, and so much travel, plus still having two more tours and three flights ahead of me, I really needed that food… but more than that, I really needed that act of kindness. 

And so, I like to think about that A&W chicken sometimes. When is someone else really in need of a little boost in energy or happiness? You can’t always tell what people are going through on the outside- what their stresses are, or how much their day may have sucked… So the next time I see the opportunity? I can’t wait to run down the corridor of an airport… gate C9.

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

 

My best friend and very first roommate, Pia, goes to Notre Dame. Yes … Notre Dame as in the Notre Dame that just narrowly beat the Dores two weekends ago. 

Now, I like watching football, that’s true. But this game was different. Unable to make it to South Bend, I marched myself straight from VOB rehearsal in Towers, all the way back to the Commons Center to watch the game. I was exhausted, and yet I was practically running to get in front of the TV for kickoff.

As the game played out, I could tell my excitement was far beyond my normal level. As the Irish crept up to 10 points in the first quarter, my stomach started to ache … I was scared. We were all scared. Vandy had been put on “upset alert” by ESPN’s Kirk Herbstreit, and it was hard to ignore … I wanted to win. 

But 10 points? That felt like nothing from the eighth best program in the country.

Fast forward only a few minutes, and a 13 point deficit at half time had me worried. I took a power nap on a Commons couch, walked the 10 feet to Munchie, and got ready for the second-half push. But why was I so invested in this particular game?

As the third quarter crept on and on, I was terrified. Our Commodores just were not gaining the advantages we needed. Holding the Irish down? Yes. Scoring? No … Or so we thought … With 11 seconds left in the third quarter, Ke’Shawn Vaughn pulled the Dores to 16-10 with a 3-yard touchdown. There was potential here. This game was actually winnable.

But, quickly, the Irish responded. 22-10 early in the fourth. Then Vandy scored another to get us to only 22-17. At that moment, an entirely new feeling rushed over my body … something I had never quite felt before. It happened with the sudden realization that the Commodores could seriously beat Notre Dame. BEAT NOTRE DAME? That was huge.

With only minutes left, QB Kyle Shurmur threw a pass to wide receiver #16 Kalija Lipscomb. What had potential to become a game-winning touchdown was deemed incomplete as an ND safety fell on our #16. With only slightly over a minute left, the game against the Irish was decided.

I’m not going to lie, I was disappointed. I realized why this particular game felt so important to me … It was personal. My best friend was sitting at a Notre Dame tailgate screaming about their victory against Vanderbilt … And I was in the Commons Center, gutted. 

But the Irish win was not Alabama’s blowout last year. We held ND down. We gave them a big fight. So why did we fall short? Was it just the Luck of the Irish? Or more than that? I honestly couldn’t think of an answer until this past weekend when I ditched my spot on the Commons couch for a spot in the stadium stands.

As I walked in to the stadium, my jaw dropped. NO ONE was there. I mean, in the grand scheme of our undergraduate student body of ~7000 people, we were probably at a whopping 1/32nd of that. Maybe 200 people at kickoff, probably only 70 by the 2nd half.

So, again, why did we fall short? Well, probably because of one word: faith. How did we expect the Dores to pull out a win against the top-10 ND when we didn’t trust them? And, once again, how could we expect a win against South Carolina if the stands were empty?

People say that they want a football team that can win in the SEC. But it seems like an unfair expectation if no one shows up to support our team so that they can pull those wins out …

It’s sort of a self-perpetuating cycle … We lose against ND, so no one shows up to South Caro. But wasn’t part of the reason we lost against the Irish probably because the Commodore fan base didn’t trust our Dores enough? And then wasn’t part of the reason we lost against SC probably because their fan base easily outnumbered ours (in our stadium)??

This all took me back to Pia. I wanted to beat Notre Dame even more than any other team because it was personal. So, when Coach Derek Mason states that “our [football] culture has got to grow up,” how do we do that?

Well, we do exactly this: we have to make it personal. And I think this is exactly what Coach Mason called for in his recent statement that, “It’s everybody in this city. Let’s start with the student body … you need to come out and support this team because it’s you. You’re Vanderbilt and they’re Vanderbilt.” 

If we want an SEC-winning team, it has to start from us … from the ground up. We have to make it personal … because it IS personal … it’s OUR team. OUR Vanderbilt.

So this weekend? Make it personal. Bring your family or friends who come for Family Weekend. And when Florida comes on Oct 13? Make it personal. Head out to Dudley Field, and stay!! … It’ll be worth it.

Go Dores.

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

Sunday afternoon, I decided I needed to change my sheets. It wasn’t for any particularly “major” reason, only because I have this really weird habit: I have to shower before bed. On Saturday, I came back to my room far too tired to shower, thus getting straight into bed, and becoming slightly abhorred in the morning when I realized what I’d done. Dramatic?  Yes. But I changed my sheets anyway.

As I went to do so, I first put on my comforter the wrong way. How did I know? Well, I thought to myself, “The tag has to go in the bottom left corner.” As this thought popped into my mind, and I completed (in my very precise way) making my bed, I thought of one person: Monica Geller.

Now, I spent my summer as I think all people should … rewatching “Friends.” So my comforter immediately reminded me of Monica trying to explain to Richard how the bed should correctly be made. (PS: If you haven’t watched Friends by now, get on it. And spoilers no longer apply because this is textbook stuff.)

Example #1 — 

But, besides the comforter scene, I began thinking I am more similar to Monica than not. I definitely have my Rachel moments, and even some Phoebe moments, too. But as I sat to examine my personal tendencies, the “Monica in me” started appearing more and more.

How? Well, for starters, there’s the organizing trait that is central to Monica. As I began to break this down, I remembered two extremely clear examples:

Ex #2 — At Peddie (my HS), my co-president and I were in charge of running Student Council. Over the summer, I made the new leaders a binder full of absolutely everything we did last year. I mean, it was immaculate. Every speech, alumni letter, spreadsheet, supplies list, meeting plan, and every prom document. All color coded, all with notes at the beginning of each chapter, and of course with a cross-referenced Table of Contents. Realizing this, I remembered two scenes: the one (haha) where Monica organizes all of her pictures, and the one with the wedding book. Comparatively … mine vs. hers:

Ex #3 — The second example made me laugh out loud. I was starting to get scared… See for yourself:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the binder, and the label maker, I couldn’t stop drawing the connections.

Ex #4 — I was reminded of an event at Peddie called “Head’s Day,” which is essentially like a field day. A ton of games, four teams, and big competition. Prior to Head’s Day, my best friend Ellen and I had discovered during a dorm activity one night that we were incredibly good at playing the game “Head’s Up.” And, since I was on Student Council, I had this game added to the roster for Head’s Day … specifically having it added thinking Ellen and I would win …

When it came time to play, we were not doing as well as usual. With only a few seconds left for me to guess the last word, Ellen said “you eat with it!!” Naturally, I began with “fork,” then “knife,” and because she couldn’t explain that it was round, or you ate soup with it, or anything remotely helpful, we lost the word, and ultimately the game.

While this whole process occurred, one of the school photographers took this (incredibly unflattering) photo of me.

This reason I thought about this game, though, was because of the time when Monica and Rachel bet Joey and Chandler that they knew Joey and Chandler better than Joey and Chandler knew them. (That was confusing, sorry. Watch the episode 4.12 …)  Ross writes questions, and they play them like trivia. Ultimately, Monica and Rachel lose the game, and their apartment. But the similarities in the photos are shocking:

 

Ex #5 — This points to another similarity — my tendency to be potentially over-competitive.

For example, during FH preseason at Peddie every year, there was always a scavenger hunt. The first three years, I’d done some crazy things to try to win: put on 25 t-shirts, showered with clothes on, etc. But Senior year? I was in it to win it. I had ziplock bags ready to place 30 individual turf pieces in, I ate a gogo-squeeze in 4 seconds, and I even asked a Sophomore out on a date. All for the love of the game. (We won, btw. Great victory.)

And while I don’t have any photo evidence this, Monica does. It is a known fact that she’s the competitive friend. Example? The Geller Cup.

PS: How East House needs to be for the Commons Cup ….

Ex #6 — When I thought of this example, it was particularly funny, because it happened once again last night. I walked into my room to see my friend Hannah sitting at my desk. My roommate, however was not in the room. I said, “oh hi … the only person in my room doesn’t actually live here!” I was not bothered by this at all, in fact, it used to happen all the time at Peddie, too. Before I lived with Ellen during Senior year, she was always in my room even when I wasn’t. But the funny part was that this happens quite frequently to Monica, too:

As I thought about the the first five examples, I was almost scared … Sometimes people think Monica is crazy for these things. She’s SO organized, SO precise, SO competitive, and SO loves to be overseeing everything. But then I thought about how all of these things make her who she is, and, make me who I am, too. And, when I thought of the 6th example, it made me realize how much Monica really loves her friends.

Monica is always the hostess, true. But more than that, she lets Rachel move in with her after years of not talking, she eats Rachel’s terrible Thanksgiving “dessert” that actually has meat in it, she doesn’t tell Joey the true meaning of the word “abysmal,” etc, etc. Monica loves her friends hard. And I couldn’t think of any better characteristic than that.

 

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

After a long night out last weekend, I came back to my room, turned the lights on, and sat down to take off my shoes.

Even in a late-night daze, I could tell that my white and green Stan Smiths were far dirtier, and looked far older than they had just hours before. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I made the Freshman mistake of wearing nice shoes out to Ranhas– I hadn’t. These Stans were two+ years old, and had long surpassed their days of being crisp, clean, and pure white. I knew my shoes would get trashed, and I actually intended for this to be the case.

Why? Well, I finally relented a week before move-in and bought new Adidas shoes. Still white, but this time they were Neos instead of Stans, with metallic stripes on the side instead of green backs. But, despite taking them out of their package, I had yet to actually wear them. The unscratched and unmarked shoes seemed daunting– how could I ruin something so perfect?  So, I wore my trusty Stans out hoping that I would finally ruin them enough to break out my new whites…

But at 2am last Saturday night, I realized that “ruining” the perfect white veneer of my shoes would not be what I was doing at all. While staring at my scratched, dirty, and faded Stans, I had the seemingly profound realization of everything these shoes had been through. This seems like a simple idea– you go practically nowhere without shoes… not even the bathroom at boarding school or in college. But I guess I had never truly though about the fact that these specific sneakers were my go-tos, and therefore had been on my feet for countless events in my life over the past three years.

The first picture I could find in my Stans was dated April 17, 2016. By April 22, my Stans and I had traveled to a Boston music competition and back, with a trophy in hand. Their soles had already hit the streets of Cambridge, Mass and New Haven, CT– traveling to the first of many college tours.

By June of 2016, my Stans became my driving shoes, as I attempted to gain my license. And by July they’d been to LBI, Avalon, Colorado, and back. I wore them to get my wisdom teeth removed, and I wore them to move back into Peddie for Junior year.

Junior year, my Stans traveled to Philadelphia for an APUSH trip, they stormed the court after our basketball team won the biggest tournament of the year, and they were on my feet nearly every day of Les Mis musical rehearsal. They were thrown on for traveling to Boy’s Lacrosse games, and after both the wins and losses on the FH field. For Spring Break, in just 10 days, they traveled to college tours at FSU, Duke, Elon, UMich, Wake Forest, and Vandy (eventually rounding out the tour with a quick stop at Disney)… While, of course, stopping home in Delaware for a single day to throw a Bridal Shower for my sister.

In June of 2017, with countless miles added to my Stans, they were packed in a suitcase to travel to Maryland for my sister’s wedding. By July they were on a flight to Great Harbour Cay in the Bahamas, and by August they were off to Manhattan for two weeks at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts.

By October of 2017, they were on last-minute college visits to UVA, UNC, Richmond, Northwestern and Vandy again. In realizing this, I registered that my Stans traveled with me to tour Vandy twice before applying, once as an accepted student, and finally on move-in day. This means that my Stans truly saw the arc of my application process; in a physical sense, they traveled the road to Vandy with me. (I may have even been wearing them when I opened my acceptance letter, though I can’t remember for sure.)

In February of 2018, my Stans were on my feet as I heard of the heartbreaking news that a friend had passed away, and I wore them as I found the strength to continue through those days.

In the spring, they hit the sidewalks of Manhattan once again for Senior Skip Day, and they even braved After-Prom. In the following days, I threw them on to move out of my Peddie dorm one last time, and they were laced up immediately after I removed my Graduation heels.

By the first weeks of summer18, they’d traveled to Boston and NY again, Asbury Park, Sea Girt, Delaware, and more.

My Stans were on my feet to celebrate and 18th birthday, and a week later, back on the same flight I’d taken in them years before to Colorado. In August, I sported my Stans to a masterclass with Adam Pascal (from the musical Rent), and I’d worn them to say “see you soon” to all of my closest friends.

And then?… Well, I wore them to move into Vandy. After that? To run across the football field at Anchor Dash, to class almost every day, and even to Ranhas.

So all and all? My Stans have been through almost as much as I have. Why? Because they were with me the whole time…  The soles of my shoes show the wear and tear of both the small victories, and the big ones; the trips of a lifetime, and the trips to the library.

I can understand why I was a little reluctant to break out my new sneakers. There’s so much history and experience that translated onto the distress of my Stans. But with new white shoes comes infinite potential. Who knows where my next shoes will travel? Where will I go, along with my sneakers, to find out who I truly am, and where I belong? Where will I be the next time I sit down and think back to all the things I, and my sneakers, have been through? #SoleSearching

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke

Hey y’all! It’s me, Brooke, back for Week 3 of my blog “The Girl Next Dore”!

I hope you enjoyed my first two posts! Before I continue with my typical uploads, I wanted to give everyone a little more information about myself for potential use as context in the future… I separated it all into categories so you can skip around to what interests you most!

Basic Facts:

My hometown is… Wilmington, DE

My birthday is on…  June 23, 2000

 

Things relevant to Vandy:

The first time I visited Nashville/Vandy was… Spring Break of my Junior year

I chose Vandy because of… the people, the city, the set-up of the Commons, (of course) the academics, and a small/medium size of the school but still with SEC football/sports!

This year I’m living in… East House

I am planning to major in… Theatre & English (minor American Govt. Poli Sci)

I can’t go to class without… my planner!!

The best place to eat breakfast in Nash is… Sky Blue Cafe

 

Favorites:

My favorite color is…  teal

My favorite food is… pizza!  (NEW JERSEY not Southern…)

Something I love is… doing makeup!  (If you want me to do your makeup, I will!!)

Something I hate is… bugs & unbearable heat

My favorite accessories are… sunglasses & backpacks (I love Diff Sunglasses & State Bags because a portion of their sales going to a good cause… same thing with my planner company, Horacio Printing!)

My favorite movie is… Legally Blonde

My favorite TV shows are… Friends & NCIS

My favorite books are… “The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao” by Junot Diaz & “I Was Told There’d Be Cake” by Sloane Crosley

 

More about me:

Something you wouldn’t expect is… I am a total theatre nerd!  I love being in musicals/plays, directing, and reading plays!

I can’t live without… my 2018 class ring

No morning is complete unless I have… coffeeeeeeee (…I drink it black)

I am secretly good at… Super Smash Bros

I have a love/hate relationship with… working out

A hidden talent is… baking a very gooooddd homemade chocolate cake

My inspiration is… my mama!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

High School:

This is my 5th year away from home because… I went to boarding school for HS!

It was called… The Peddie School in Hightstown, NJ

Some things I did in high school were… Student Council, choir, musicals (duh), field hockey, managed lacrosse (post-concussion from playing lax), & Relay for Life

 

Music:

My take on country music is… I LOVE IT!  It’s my favorite!  (But no judgement if you don’t like it.)

Something I’m listening to right now is… The album “Wild & Free” by Jessica Vosk

My guilty pleasure song is… Summer of ’69 by Bryan Adams

A fun fact is… I was in a music video at Peddie!  (You can watch it here…)

 

Social Media (shameless self advertising):

My Instagram is… @brooke.dennison

My Twitter is… @br00kemackenzie (zeros for the O’s)

My Insta bio is… “This is the story of the girl” which is the first line of the song “Absolutely” by Nine Days. Trust me, you’ll know it when you hear it.

My Twitter bio is… “Murray, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me woman”

The reason for that Twitter bio is… it is from the movie Clueless, which is one of my favorites, in part because it is based off of Jane Austen’s book “Emma”.

 

I think that’s all! If there’s anything I missed that you want to know about, comment below!

Feel free to message me on Insta, email, etc & make sure to read next week’s blog!

 

Anchor down,

Brooke

1- tap R toe, &- tap R heel, 2- R stomp, 3- R foot step right, 4- L step together

5- tap L toe, &- tap L heel, 6- L stomp, 7- L foot step left, 8- R step together

1- step R forward, 2- step L together / clap, 3- step R forward, 4- step L together / clap

5- step L backward, 6- step R backward, 7- step L backward / start to turn L, 8- step R backward / finish turning to face opposite wall

REPEAT all!

You might think this is a sequence to a line dance, and you’re right, it is… It’s simply two eight counts of classic line dance steps, probably seeming elementary to the dancers out there, and impossible to those with two left feet. But those two eight counts were the catalyst to some of the most fun I’ve ever had.

If someone asked me out of the blue to go line dancing, I probably would’ve refused… Look crazy tripping over my own feet?? And other people’s feet??… No thanks…

But the place and time were already set. 120 2nd Ave N, The Wildhorse Saloon. Thursday, August 16th, 6pm. The Media Immersion Pre-Orientation was sending us line dancing, and there was no backing out.

We opened the door to the huge bar / saloon and immediately heard the band “Cross Atlantic.” This guy and girl duo was crazy good, and their “New Nashville” sound was the perfect backdrop for our long-awaited BBQ dinner.

And then it was time. Cross Atlantic left the stage, and a new woman appeared at the front. “Y’all come on down to the bottom floor for our Line Dance Lesson!”

Immediately, Sarah, Adam, Bryce & myself were sprinting down the four flights of stairs, and subsequently pushing ourselves through the crowd to make it onto the floor. Though hesitant at first, once we were there, we knew we had to dance.  I simply couldn’t disappoint the child in me who spent years dancing to Hannah Montana’s “Hoedown Throwdown.”

But, “pop it, lock it, polka dot it” failed me this time…  This was the big leagues, and it was time to step up (with the right foot first, of course).

So we listened, we watched, we followed in line (literally), and eventually we caught the hang of it. We did the eight counts faster and faster, and suddenly we were line dancing our way through all of Sam Hunt’s “House Party” while screaming the words, too. This was the definition of dancing like no one was watching, and singing like no one was listening… except everyone was watching… and everyone was listening.

But it didn’t matter. We were line dancing at a saloon in Nashville like it was nobody’s business… and man, we were having fun. That’s what mattered.

So, the small town girl in me that did not at all want to line dance in this new, crazy, and country city was gone by the end of the night, and all it took was two eight counts.

Somewhere in the middle of screaming Sam Hunt, I realized this principle can apply to more things in our first few months here; to begin overcoming the nerves of trying new things all we have to do is break them down:

Step 1 & 2, 3, 4.  Step 5, 6, 7 & 8.

 

Anchor Down,

Brooke