Humanitarian: one who possesses traits of compassion for other humans by their acts of kindness.

I want to be a humanitarian when I grow up.

You know you're a poor college student when...

You buy a pack of 98-cent notecards, and cut them in half.

You eat a burrito before you go out to a Mexican restaurant, so all you need is the free chips and salsa.

It ruins your day to come back to the parking meter and discover that you still had fifteen minutes... could have saved a dime.

You lose two pounds from sweating because you refuse to turn on the air conditioner.

You can make a $20 gift card to Hyvee last for months.

You actually fill out every university survey that comes your way, because they put your name (along with 20,000 others) in a raffle for ten bucks.

Your closest Walmart carries everything, and I mean EVERYTHING, in Great Value brand.

You refuse to wash off the enormous amount of pollen accumulating on your car because you can't spare the quarters. That greenish tint is hip anyway.

Stopping by the gas station for an apple juice on Monday morning is considered splurging.

You leave your finance class in a fit of despair, and decide to move in with your sister after graduation.

"It's never too late to be who you might have been."

-George Eliot

Viking funerals, leg waxing, and pie wars

My roomie's mouse, Bill Wordsworth, passed away, and she decided that he deserved a true Viking funeral. With the help of a couple friends, we made him a sailboat out of a styrofoam cup... doused it in wine (he needed one last drink)... lit it on fire and set him to sea (or creek - we improvised). It was a very peaceful ceremony, minus the few seconds that his boat got a little caught up in some brush and almost started a forest fire.

Yesterday was Relay for Life with Alpha Phi Omega. We, as a college, raised over $100,000 to fight cancer and set a personal record for number of participants. When we weren't walking the track, we were getting our faces painted, waxing the boys' legs (and chests) for donations to the American Cancer Society, and having epic pie wars.

He didn't even put up a fight... but you better believe I did.

When I told my mom I got pied in the face, she said it sounded like free breakfast for college kids. Very true. I'm a little delirious from lack of sleep, and I think my pneumonia is relapsing. But it was well worth it.

Alpha Phi Omega awesomeness

I was officially initiated into Alpha Phi Omega today. They blindfolded us and we had to walk across campus holding on to the person in front of us....I lost my leader at one point and had a minor panic attack. (Kidding. She reached back for me.) I'll be honest, I don't remember my pledge by heart...but the gist of it was to give up my own selfish needs in order to serve others. And really, that's what it's all about.

Miss twenty-something

I am officially a twenty-something. I feel like everything happens in this decade of life.... graduate college, start your career, get married, buy your first house, start a family. Or maybe move to Africa with only what you can fit in your carry on. It's a toss up.

My mommy came to visit the weekend before my birthday. She took me to Sam's and bought me enough groceries to (hopefully) last for the rest of the semester, plus a very cute birthday cake that we dug into at 11:58 pm on the 16th -- Christine gave up sweets for Lent.

Our stove is a little messy. So is the rest of our apartment.

Andrea came in town the next weekend. It was so nice having her around. The second she left, I called a friend to come keep me company. One of our excursions was to the tattoo parlor, which started off with a proposal.

I felt like a creeper taking a picture, but I thought they might want it. I got her email address.

It's Hebrew for "life." Because Jesus gave me one, and I don't plan on wasting it.

A lesson in closing doors

I may have learned a lot of things thus far in college, but apparently I have not learned how to close the front door.

I bolted out the door--late, as usual--yesterday afternoon to meet a friend at Starbucks. The second the barista handed me my hot chocolate (my taste buds are not sophisticated enough for coffee), I got a panicked message from my roommate that she had come downstairs to find the front door open and all of the cats gone. She had managed to catch four out of five (yes, we're up to five cats at the moment, I'm as horrified as you are), but my baby girl Greta was nowhere to be found.

One Chinese firedrill and a spilled hot chocolate later, my friend and I made it back to my apartment building and joined in on the epic search. We questioned neighbors and trekked through snow for half an hour, me all the while trying not to have a breakdown. I finally thought to ask Christine if she had checked under my bed, Greta's favorite hiding place... but she wasn't there either.

She was lying on the floor in front of the heating vent. That's my girl.