Zoe Yarbrough

Wow, my first-year of college is over. I am sitting here typing this, and I am in a state of disbelief. I feel like time passed like molasses, but also at the speed of a turtle. That’s life I guess. I struggled to come up with a topic to write about for my last MCL article. I don’t think I could have written anything else other than a goodbye letter to freshman year.

Dear Freshman Year,

YOU FRICKING SUCKED! Just kidding, but this fall was definitely the equivalent of eating a dirty sock. I struggled finding friends and finding myself. I felt the pull to be so many things at once that I ended up stuck constantly second-guessing myself. I felt paralyzed by my classes and I felt stagnant in my development as a human. So much had changed globally, but I still felt like a senior in high school, even though I was hundreds of miles away, in a new city, around hundreds of new people, and in new classes.

Things turned around in the Spring semester. I got closer with my friends, and I explored so much more. I learned so many new things about myself, and I learned how to be alone. I learned about my likes and dislikes, I learned how to take care of myself when I am sick, and I became an expert at juggling my time. Life is so friggin’ hard guys. That’s my biggest conclusion from freshman year. It is never going to stop being hard. If it’s not a pandemic, then it’s going to be an illness, or a dead family member, or a rejection from a job. We constantly face battles, but the perspective we have when facing them matters most. I changed my perspective and learned to find the best angle to make myself happy. I reminded myself of what I could be grateful for, like my dad, cats, good books, chai lattes, and good friends. MCL has changed my life, and made me rethink my first-year experience for the better.

I am radically different from who I was a year ago. It’s crazy to think that April 2020 Zoe would not recognize April 2021 Zoe. This was a weird way to start college, but it’s made me a better person in how I view obstacles and what I want to achieve in life. I want to spread happiness, rather than obliterate it. I want to keep exploring, keep growing, and keep finding happiness in the difficult times. I don’t know how to sum up my first-year experience, because I am still grappling and exploring how this time has impacted me. We have all gone through so much in such a short time that I think we will all keep thinking about how we have changed after 2020. I am just so grateful to have been able to leave home and continue on my journey to finding myself. I don’t know where sophomore year will take me, but I am so excited for the ride.

I want to shout out a couple of people that have kept me alive and happy this year. Special thanks to: Emilio, Mia, Mira, Sasha, Norman, Karen, cats in general, Suzie’s chai and cinnamon raisin bagel, my German class, Buttrick spinny chairs, Jim Hayes, Paige Clancy, and everyone who has ever smiled at me. You all have done more for me than you know.

I wish everyone the best of luck this summer and in sophomore year.

Lots of love,

Zoe Y

P.S. Here are some of my fav pics:)

Central Library is a jungle. Not in the stereotypical way of trees and tigers hiding around the corner. The animals are actually the students, and the greenery is the occasional potted plant in a corner. I had my first acquaintance in Central my fall semester, but I only ever gained the courage and proper training to face the challenge again in the Spring. The building looms above you as you make your way to the entrance, almost taunting you to see if you’re up to the challenge. You enter and are immediately suspended into the smells of a library. Old book pages aging, the whoosh of printers hot off the press, and the click of laptop keys create a false sense of comfort. There are varying levels of predators in the library, from the maze-like structure to the super-sonic elevators. On a side note, what is the real speed of those freaking elevators? You’re on floor four and get to floor seven in negative three seconds. But, not even the claustrophobic, super-speed elevators were what deterred me in the fall. It’s the STEM kids that will murder you with their gaze as you pass their library room.

They appear harmless with their stickered water bottles, scattered notebooks, and messy buns, but their weapon is their gaze. There’s no way to reserve library rooms, so you are the mercy of whatever rooms are available when you get to the library. These rooms are prized, because they are quiet, you can spread out, and they have spinny chairs, which is my favorite part. The STEM kids dominate all of these rooms, because they probably get out of bed at 4:00 a.m., tailgate outside before the doors unlock, and rush the jungle seeking their daily shelter. I respect the grind and the fairness of “first come, first serve”, but the looks I receive as I pass by are uncalled for. They stare you down almost daring you to stare back, questioning their authority. They think the glass is one-sided or something, because they will watch your movements as you pass their territory. In the beginning I was scared, looked down, and shuffled quickly away, yet something changed in me.

I don’t know if the preservatives in the constant onslaught of Fresh Mex made me into a fiercer predator, but now I stare the STEM kids right back down. I look into their eyes, past the dry-erase board full of general chemistry or physics equations, and see into their binary souls of numbers. I hold the gaze and almost dare them to fight me with their TI-84 calculator. I pass by, and even though I am able to contend with the predator, I still fail at finding a room. I eventually settle for a chair or a comical office cubicle. Yet, when the tables turn, and I have the study room while people pass by looking in, I relish in my victory yet empathize with their journey.

Central Library is no longer scary with its numerous floors, potentially NASCAR-eligible elevator speeds, and STEM kids. At the end of the day, I empathize with the STEM kids that produce blood, sweat, and tears for their work. Y’all work hard without any breaks. If any of y’all are reading this, take a deep breath and don’t stress because it’ll be better for you in the long run. Or, let me say this in a way you might like. Raised cortisol levels suppress your immune system by activating your sympathetic nervous system, which puts you at a higher risk of sickness, damaging neurons in your hippocampus, and generally makes you unhappy. Enjoy the battles of the jungle, but remember to enjoy the fruits that hang among the trees.

Can y’all believe we only have a month left as freshman? What the heck? Where did the time go?

This week I had a few spare moments during the ~wellness days~ to reminisce and remember my first-year experiences. The weather in Nashville has been spectacular this past week, so most of my thinking has been done in the sun to try to develop some sort of a tan before the summer creeps up on my pale body. As I sat on my complimentary Commons blanket, I looked around and saw all the masked faces at Rand. I saw students smiling. I heard the acapella groups in the tent belting their hearts out. I heard the rumbling of a skateboard flying past. I saw the community that for so many months has been hidden.

This spring semester has been above and beyond my fall semester. The fall was rough for me, y’all. It kicked my butt. Rest in peace to anyone in General Chemistry. Yet, this spring has given me a new kind of hope. I feel like I have connected with so many of my peers, which I didn’t think was possible. My renewed attitude for going to college in a pandemic was thanks to my class, “Buddhist Traditions” with Adeana McNicholl. I took this class fall 2021, but its meaning and context didn’t fully hit me until I returned from break.

I was raised around Christian holidays, but I was never fully religious. I didn’t expect much from taking this class; maybe a deeper knowledge on the history of Buddhism. Somehow this class made me have a Britney Spears-style breakdown, epiphanies, and lots of “Why am I here?” moments. Christianity never prepared me how to deal with pain and suffering. It taught me to trust God and follow His word, whatever that may be. Yet, Buddhism offered the perspective that suffering and pain were a part of life. It offered principles and rituals to conceptualize and contend with that pain. In the middle of an isolating, confusing, and scary pandemic, this is what I needed most. I do not claim to be a Buddhist, but the principles of this “religion” have given me an invaluable perspective as I face these adult challenges that leave me feeling lost.

Every one of us is just a tiny speck on a tiny planet in a big universe. This scared me at first. And that’s ok. It’s freeing when you think about it. You have no pressure to be anything other than what you want to be. Life carries on and will dependably keep going with or without you. Life is so temporary when you think about it that you can’t waste your time sweating the small stuff. Live your life for you. Eat the donut. Ask someone on the date. Go out with friends instead of studying (I know, don’t freak out, the world will not end if you don’t study). I know that we aren’t in the best of circumstances to really live out this life philosophy, since we are literally banned from doing things, like parties or traveling. But, I promise we will do this again. This spring has given me a taste of what it’s like to be a Vandy student, and my time here has given me such much to be grateful for. I can’t wait for my next years here as a student, and I am so grateful for the experiences, people, and perspectives this place has given me.

Have you ever heard the song “Baby” by Justin Bieber? Or have you been living under a rock for the last decade? I think we can agree that this song represents the peak of our tween years. Our need for a nasally pop super star to sing us a repetitive elegy blows my mind, but hey, I won’t lie and say I don’t have the song downloaded to my phone. For how much crap everyone gave the song, it’s pretty catchy. I have recovered from Bieber Fever, but my brain can’t seem to shake the tune after I hear it. It stays with your soul. Almost like Satan. Addison Rae has come out with her single, “Obsessed”, and I am here to make the argument that this has ties to Germany. I promise this will make sense. Just keep reading.

Schläger music is a genre of music in Germany that is super tacky, super simple, and super repetitive. It also rhymes, so that adds to the sugary feel in your brain when you listen to it. I found this style of music through my German language class. My professor played us a few songs, and I was enthralled. I did some research, and apparently Schläger music is the equivalent of Christian Rock, which basically means this music is TV-G and super kitschy. I was interested to find out more about this genre.

Apparently, Schläger music is a huge part of Germany’s culture. Germany has TV night specials every day of just hours of Schlager music. I guess this would be the American equivalent of MTV. They also have the Spring Festival of Volksmusik, the Summer Festival of Volksmusik, and even the Great New Year’s Schlagin’ Eve Spectacular. Schläger music year-round! With help from Rebecca Schuman’s article, “Is Schlager Music the Most Embarrassing Thing Germany Has Ever Produced?”, I have outlined a checklist below to define the key elements of this genre:

1. Schlager contains very upbeat, simple, and rhyming lyrics; almost like a poem.
2. Content matter is never political, inappropriate, or upset.
3. Every song has a (If I seem repetitive with the word “simple”, you should see the article I read below) a simple and catchy melody

Just to really hit home what this genre is like I am attaching a video from the article that I feel showcases the outfits, lyrics, and melody of Schlager. Now, you’re probably thinking, “Great, I have learned about this terrible music. I can move on with my life”. That is where you’re wrong. Somehow, I STARTED LIKING SCHLÄGER MUSIC! It was specifically the song “Ohne dich” by Sarah Zucker that drew me in. It’s so catchy, and the music video was so fun! I also attached it in case you would like to watch, because who doesn’t want to watch a blonde German on roller-skates singing a song?

Here is my favorite song:

Now, stick with me for a second as I explain the connection. People have been going crazy on Tik Tok making fun of Addison’s music video choreography (rightfully so). After seeing one of these memes, I hopped onto YouTube to watch the video itself. I am ashamed to admit it: I liked her song. Hey! It was catchy! The reason this all connects is because I think Addison Rae is contributing to America’s Schläger music. Even tough hers is technically not very TV-G, I think the idea of a guy being obsessed with her and she being obsessed with herself, the rhymes, the simple lyrics, and the melody all fits the characteristics above. For whatever reason, I have a curse for liking simple, catchy, and annoying songs.

I have several theories as to why, but probably because it doesn’t require many brain cells to memorize the lyrics and you don’t need an amazing voice to belt out the tunes. I have found happiness in German Schläger music, maybe you will too, so much so I am finding similarities to American songs. I also highly recommend watching the memes on Tik Tok; you might use those dance moves at Lonnie’s Karaoke Bar sometime. Go give Schläger music a listen!!!

This weekend I conquered the invisible battles lines that have entrenched our campus: the Vandy Bubble. Ya know, the imaginary boundaries that surround our campus forcing us to use the old reliable restaurants like Roma or Pancake Pantry, and preventing us from truly exploring Nashville. I am very much so an introvert at heart, so forcing myself to get out of my comfort zone is a hilarious struggle constantly going on inside my brain. Yet, this weekend I had an external motivator: Norman. Norman, or Stormy Normy as I call him, is my father and he decided to come visit his favorite (!) daughter this weekend in the bustling city of Nash.

My father and I are pretty nerdy; it’s genetic you could say. We are history buffs, and it’s a tradition of ours to visit Civil War historical or battle sites when we can. This weekend we visited the Carnton Plantation, specifically the McGavock family home that was used as a field hospital during the Battle of Franklin Trust and the Belle Meade Plantation. Before I begin describing our southern adventures, I just want to write a disclaimer. As we visited and read about the history of the south, my father and I were conscious to recognize, discuss, and remember the history of the enslaved populations in the era of the Civil War and of the lands we visited. These were not visits of ignorance, but of an appreciation to remember the past of all those who experienced it. I would like to add that the Belle Meade tourist site is entirely problematic in its portrayal of slavery, white fragility, and whitewashing of the past and Civil War. I warn you to research before visiting, because their portrayal is entirely inadequate of the lives lost. I have attached an amazing podcast that was done by my classmates on the problems that exist within Belle Meade, titled, “Belle Meade – Erasure, Distortion, and Performance”*

Our journey began thirty minutes away in the town of Franklin, TN. This was a cute drive through the Tennessee country sides that felt so refreshing to see after months of viewing the urban sprawl of downtown. We stopped in at a super cute coffee shop, called “The Good Cup”. Obviously, this is so far away, but if you’re ever around Franklin, definitely try it! Their chai was spectacular and their fresh donuts were delightful. We finally arrived at our destination of the Carnton historical plantation, but our main visit was to the McGavock family mansion. I wasn’t allowed to take any photos inside, but I have included some from the outside. Fun fact: southern homes are known to paint their porch ceilings blue as a way to deceive flying critters from making nests or flying into it. Cool, right???

Stormy Normy in front of “The Good Cup”!

Stormy Normy and I in front of the Belle Meade mansion!

We took a guided-tour throughout the house, and it was insanely fascinating. I love learning about the culture and experience in history, not so much the facts or politics. The experience surrounding the McGavock mansion in terms of the Civil War is that it was used as a bloody field hospital during the Battle of Franklin Trust. Like I said, I hate political history, so I am not going into the battle or what it did; that’s what Google and the professors here are Vandy at for. But, the South was losing really badly, so the Tennessean Confederate army commandeered the mansion to use as a hospital for wounded men. My Dad and I got to see the rooms as they were in the 1800s, and on the night of the battle. Another fun fact: the gore from the hundreds of men that night is still evident on the wooden floors. Yup, you read my words correctly. We got to see the blood stains that still live on decades and decades later.

The McGavock family had two children: a nine-year-old girl and seven-year-old boy. These two kids were actually there the night of the battle, and there are historical accounts of the family helping to aid the wounded men. There are so many interesting and diverse histories associated with this plantation, so I would definitely encourage reading more, or even trying to visit if you can. I really appreciate the museum’s efforts to remember all the histories associated with the Civil War.

Our next visit was to the Belle Meade plantation. This is actually much closer to campus! This Harding family that built the mansion was actually more involved in horse racing than farming cash crops. Fun fact: horse racing found its popularity in Tennessee, not Kentucky like one might think. The popularity of breeding and racing horses actually started at the Harding Plantation. This place was gorgeous. The grass was a luscious green, and the flowers were in full Spring bloom. We started our tour sharply at 10:00 a.m., but boy was it bustling for a museum tour on a Sunday morning. This plantation didn’t have any significant battles of the Civil War attached, but it was important to the society of elites in Nashville during the time of the war. The house was elegant, elaborate, and grandiose. They had floating staircases, which means every third step was attached to the wall by a concrete cinder block, so we were warned to stay close to the wall. It was actually really cool because you could feel on the floor where the concrete ended, and it did indeed feel like you were floating. It was really cool to see the structures and how people lived not even 200 years ago. Our building processes, aesthetics, culture, and society have changed so much in what is relatively such a short time. Another fun fact: ruby red tinted windows were a sign of southern hospitality.

I have not even licked the surface of the history and experiences that are attached to these two amazing places. I was so happy that I got to learn more about my home for the next four years, and I got to venture out of the ever comfortable Vandy bubble with my favorite pal, Stormy Normy. He is my favorite partner in crime, so seeing him is definitely a recharge on the online learning battery. I was so proud to show my city of Nashville and for both us to continue our tradition of learning Civil War history.

As Oprah Winfrey once said, “I love bread.” Oprah has never been more right about the carbohydrate food category. So, when I go to a restaurant and they slap a bowl of bread and a plate of oil in my face, I know some bangin’ food is about to be served. This weekend I ventured off campus to the Barcelona Wine Bar restaurant at 1200 Villa Place. I knew it was going to be good, because of the piping hot and buttery bread, but trust me, you’re going to want to keep reading, because it gets even better. Now, before y’all start with the, “Zoe, you’re under 21! Why are you at a wine bar!?”, just know that it is actually a restaurant alongside a bar, with its own dining area.  

My close friend Emilio wanted to show me his native Spanish cuisine, and I was touched to say the least. It meant a lot to me that he wanted to share his home cuisine with my ignorant American cuisine self. Yet, I was also hesitant because my food palate is limited to chicken tenders, fries, and GoGo Squeez applesauce packets. I said yes, and saw the excitement in his eyes as he listed off dishes that included moldy sausage, along with squid, and fish. I was scared, and you would be too if your diet consisted of the safe and bland foods of chicken and rice.

The design of the restaurant itself is very easy on the eyes. The restaurant had an elegant yet gritty vibe, with beautiful hanging fixtures, golden wood floors, and metal décor to offset the glowing light coming in from the large windows. The menu was entirely in Spanish, so thank goodness Emilio was fluent and guided me through what to order. We ended up sharing five plates of tapas, which consisted of Jamón Serrano, bread and oil (my favorite!), calamari, Torrijas with Crème Catalan, Jamón & Monchego Croquetas, and Potato Tortilla. When I say run, don’t walk, to try to the Croquetas, I am not being dramatic. It’s basically a fried dough ball of cheese, ham, and potatoes blended together into a mouthwatering mixture. The Jamón is basically Spanish ham that you can put on breads, and dip into a buttery oil. Emilio says that his family usually buys Jamón by the pounds, and he could usually eat all of it one sitting. The Torrijas reminded me of French toast, and its flaky insides with notes of cinnamon were deserving of happy tears.

I was so glad I ended up going with Emilio because I tried so many new foods I wouldn’t have tried by myself. I was also so excited to try cuisine from a different culture, and get out of my comfort zone of the usual chicken tenders. But, the pinnacle of my Barcelona Wine Bar experience was seeing the excitement in Emilio to share his Spanish culture. As we ate and chatted over the tapas, he discussed his childhood memories of eating food and showed me pictures of his hometown, and photos of his hometown were actually featured in the restaurant! I was touched that he wanted to share that with me and so happy that he got to be reminded of his home which is so far away seeming even farther sometimes during this pandemic. I love that Vanderbilt gives me the opportunity to interact with students from all over the world, and gives us a space to share our culture and experiences. I urge you to try the Barcelona Wine Bar not only for its great Spanish cuisine and moderate prices, but because you might just learn something new about yourself and your peers.

My favorite place to sleep is in the car. The rhythmic motion of the car, the warmth from the seats, the low hum of the stereo, and the ticking of the turn signal provide an instant surge of melatonin. I have fond memories of my Dad and I blasting “Rockstar” by Nickelback. I know, I know. Nickelback is outdated and cringe, but they have produced some absolute bangers. I also love driving at the wheel (not asleep, of course), while blasting my music with the windows rolled down. Daydreaming is a hobby of mine, as I look out the windows of my car and the scenery from my hometown flashes by.

So, I was not surprised when I found a second home in the Vandy Vans. These vans help transport students across campus safely at night. I took my first Vandy Van ride this spring semester, and it definitely didn’t disappoint. My friends and I were headed over to Commons from Scomb, but it was cold and dark, so we decided to gamble and take the Vandy Van for the first time ever. We waited for a couple of short minutes, and then our knight-in-shining gold and black arrived. The foldable doors screeched open, and we ascended the staircase to our seats.

We sat down, and my first sense of feeling went to the heat radiating from the inside of the van. It surrounded my cold exterior, and melted through the layers of chill. I felt a sense of comfort as the yellow iridescent lights and warmth from the heaters made me sleepy. Yet, the icing on the cake for me was the music playing from the radio. The driver had put on the ’80s classic rock station, which just so happens to be my Dad’s all-time favorite era of music. Naturally, I grew up listening to these tunes, and overtime found myself enjoying them as much as my Dad. I heard classics from “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey to “I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith. I was jolted back to car rides with my Dad and siblings, so my meter of comfort was reaching maximum levels.

The ride itself was smooth and calm, with the blinker making soft ticking noises at corners and the engine revved a slow purr at green lights. My friends and I were all in a trance as we looked out the windows at the glittery city of Nashville. We started off the ride cracking jokes, but we were soon thrown into a vortex of utmost comfort that we ended up finishing the ride in silence. We arrived at our destination, thanked the driver, and descended the stairs into the dark and cold night. We all had glassy eyes and slow thoughts when we first exited the van. How long were we in the van? Did we all age 10 years? Are we even in Nashville? Was that the Magic School bus?

We lost our trance-like state, and returned to a homeostasis, but we all had the same experience riding in the Vandy Van. It was a vortex of comfort that threw us all into memories from our childhood. I don’t know if the vents were blasting aromatic dopamine or serotonin, but it was such a calming and euphoric experience. The Van makes you remember things clearly, and look inward at yourself. Each time I take a ride with a Vandy Van, I close my eyes and let the warmth and music take over. For a short 10 minutes, I am transported to an alternate universe where my only concerns are if I know the next song lyric. I urge you to ride the Vandy Van with your friends, and see where the vortex takes you.