On this week’s CommonsCast Dean Melchor-Barz highlights his Dean’s Dinners, your weekly calendar of events, and Zoe interviews Brian Huang, Resident Adviser in North House
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News & features about the Vanderbilt Commons from the students who live here
by Zoe Rankin
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
by Zoe Rankin
On this edition of your CommonsCast Dean Melchor-Barz reflects on Vanderbilt’s Family Weekend, first-year student Sam Bianco delivers your Commons Calendar of events coming up this week, and first-year student Zoe Rankin interviews Sam Edwards, Head Resident of Sutherland House
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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
by Zoe Rankin
by Taylor Lomax
Alternative rock band Paramore took over the Nashville Municipal Auditorium on Sept. 7 for what the band called “a celebration of Nashville music, art, and community.” The show marked the end of their After Laughter Tour and their last show for a while until they release new music.
However, beyond the direct connections and importance this show held to Paramore and their fans nationwide (I met people in line from Los Angeles, New York, Minneapolis, Tampa, Chicago, and many others), it also served to show off the art and music scene in the band’s hometown. This included installations in the venue from local artists like Brett Hunter (pictured below), MKAV, and New Hat, shopping opportunities from local thrift and record stores, and musical support from Liza Anne, Nightingale, Canon Blue, Bully, and COIN.
The concert itself took place in the main venue and lasted around 6 hours due to the number of support acts, all of whom were outstanding. Especially exciting was folk-rock singer-songwriter Liza Anne, who gave a powerful and engrossing performance despite her own anxiety which she alluded to at one point during her set. COIN was also a high-energy standout and prepared the crowd extremely well for the following headlining set by Paramore.
When Paramore finally took the stage, they absolutely did not disappoint. The setlist, more or less identical to that of previous shows on the After Laughter Tour, spanned their discography, leaning heavily on their latest album but including fan favorites like “Ignorance,” “Crushcrushcrush,” and “That’s What You Get.” Toward the middle of the set, the band stripped the stage for a seated, acoustic section that included a cover of Drake’s “Passionfruit” as well as an incredibly vulnerable orchestral arrangement of After Laughter cut “26.” Frontwoman Hayley Williams appeared to be on the verge of tears for parts of this performance, a sentiment shared by much of the audience (including myself).
When the time came for Paramore to sing their pop-punk breakout hit “Misery Business,” Williams took a moment to reflect on the way she and her bandmates had matured since the song’s release (“calling someone a whore is not a cool thing to do,” she shared) before revealing that this would be the last time the song would be played live for “a very very long time.” In light of these circumstances, the crowd and performance were absolutely electrifying, and the nearly ten-minute version of the song felt far too short.
After an extended rendition of 2013’s “Ain’t It Fun,” the set became vulnerable and emotional yet again with the live debut and likely only performance of After Laughter closer “Tell Me How,” during which Williams once again appeared to be holding back tears. After a short break, the band returned to the stage for an energetic four-song encore including two songs from drummer Zac Farro’s side project HalfNoise and closing with After Laughter‘s lead single, “Hard Times,” which was the first song performed during this album cycle. Williams made sure to note the symmetrical aspect of this tour, which started with “Hard Times” at Nashville’s EXIT/IN and closed with the same song at the Municipal Auditorium.
If nothing else, this show proved why Paramore has experienced such remarkable career longevity. At once an incredible concert in its own right, a loving tribute to the city that made them, and an emotionally-mixed goodbye to the band’s favorite album and tour, Art + Friends served as a reminder of the band’s incredible talent and heart.
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
by Zoe Rankin
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
by Zoe Rankin
On this episode of CommonsCast you’ll hear Dean Melchor-Barz discuss the benefits of a diverse community, the Commons Calendar showcases upcoming events, and first-year student Zoe Rankin has an interview with this week’s “Human of the Commons” Tommy Oswalt, Head Resident of West House.
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