Below are the 10 most recent journal entries recorded in seejaynova's LiveJournal:

Saturday, March 10th, 2007
9:22 pm	Day 4: Shopping with Bain and his new best friend Our assigned seats were in the third of three rows reserved for the media along the sideline opposite of the teams’ benches. That was fine. After all, our school did not make the tournament and there was no real reason for us to be there so we didn’t complain.   About 10 seats down from us was another student covering the tournament. He interned with CSTV and was keeping a live blog throughout the tournament. We met Matt on the first day and quickly became friends. But for whatever reason, Jason seemed to like him the most.   “We have to wait for Matt,” “We’re going to eat with Matt” and “We should hang out with Matt” became the three most frequent sentences from Jason’s mouth. Bontemps and I thought this was very strange – and found it very funny – but it was fitting knowing Jason.   Friday’s first game didn’t start until 6:30 p.m., so we had a lot of time to kill. “I called Matt so we could hang out with him,” Jason said. Bontemps and I had no objections, but we just found it funny how much Jason liked this guy.   We met up with Matt and went for a walk around town. We stopped at Subway for lunch and later went to a few of the outlet stores, per Jason’s request. I never met a guy who liked to shop more than him. We went to the Timberland store and Jason checked out the wide selection of boots and shirts, contemplating whether he wanted to buy anything and charge it to the BV’s expense account. The joke got old after the fourth time he said it, but that didn’t stop him from saying it a few more times.   We walked over to the shoe outlet and Bontemps decided to buy a pair of boots. “I can’t believe I’m standing here helping you buy boots, Bontemps,” I said. It was one of those situations you would never imagine being in, but it actually wasn’t that weird. Jason and Matt had already moved on to the next store.   “Where did they go?” I said after Bontemps had paid for his boots and we left the store. I called Jason on his cell phone – because Bontemps couldn’t call on his phone, of course – and he told me they were in the Gap.   Bontemps and I went to catch up with them. We walked in and Jason was thinking of buying a couple of inexpensive shirts. Matt had already selected his shirts. “I think I’m going to buy this one,” Jason said as he held up a shirt. He added, “It’s not gay because it’s a different color (than Matt’s).”   Once again, Bontemps and I burst out laughing. Like I said, Jason is one of the most unintentionally funny people I’ve ever met.   After leaving the Gap, we walked to the Pac Sun store. Jason excitedly browsed one display rack then another, looking for the perfect T-shirt. He never found it.   Once Jason was finally finished shopping, we walked back to our hotel. “We’ll give you a call before we leave for the game, Matt,” Jason said, “so we can walk over (to the arena) together.”   Bontemps and I exchanged looks, shaking our heads and laughing once again. (Comment on this)
Friday, March 9th, 2007
5:50 pm	Day 3: Meal time with Bain Day 3: Meal time with Bain   “I love the way my voice sounds on a recorder,” Jason said at dinner in the media room. Bontemps and I exchanged looks. “What? I wish I could put my voice through a tape recorder every time I talked.”   This was one random comment from one meal with Jason. Heading into the trip, I thought Bontemps’ comments would be the more entertaining ones. However, after the third day, I’ve come to the realization that Bain is one of the most unintentionally hilarious people I’ve ever met.   “I sound awesome,” he continued. “I have a DJ voice.”   Bontemps and I just laughed. There was no other appropriate reaction.   The second double header began at 6:30 so we made our way to press row to continue our tournament coverage. For the second consecutive day, Bontemps had spent more time away from courtside than actually sitting in the press section. Jason and I were grateful for not having Bontemps around all the time, but it was always a pleasure when he would make an appearance and give us an update on whatever tidbit of information he acquired. Earlier in the day, his dream had come true as Anthony Solomon had been fired as the men’s basketball coach. He had a glowing smile on his face all day.   “Novak, I need to borrow your phone,” he said. “I wasn’t planning on borrowing it at all for the rest of the week, but I need to listen in on this phone conference.”   The conference he referred to was with Steve Watson, the director of athletics, who just happened to be in Atlantic City that day. About a half hour later, Bontemps returned with my phone and said he was off to a meeting.   What meeting? Where could he possibly be going? Ah. Solomon was fired. We were in Atlantic City. Bontemps’ best friend Steve was in Atlantic City. We put the pieces together and knew exactly where he was going.   Just imagine being the Athletic Director of an Atlantic 10 school. You go to the A-10 Tournament – the one in which your school did not qualify for – for an A-10 AD meeting, you need to have an impromptu teleconference to appease the local media after firing your head basketball coach and you get an e-mail from the one student journalist who had been circling like a vulture over its prey in anticipation of this announcement for more than two years.   So Bontemps met with the AD and had a nice chat about the future of the St. Bonaventure basketball program. And I’m sure he gave Mr. Watson some great tips about how to handle the new head coach search and some suggestions for who to hire.   After the double header ended, I finished writing my game recap and Bontemps finished writing whatever he was working on. We just had to wait for Jason to edit my story and post it on the BV’s Web site. While reading my story, he was talking on his cell phone. Then he got up from his seat and decided to go for a walk around the arena.   Bontemps and I had a conversation about the future of Bonaventure basketball and how if more administrators carried out their jobs like Mr. Watson does then our school would be in a much better place than it is now. We weren’t really paying attention to what Jason was doing or where he was.   A couple minutes later I looked over my shoulder to see Jason standing on the court – still talking on his phone – and examining the floor. He bent down and touched the floor. He said, “This isn’t too good of a floor.”   I just laughed. Where had he come from and why was he standing on the middle of the court?   We left the arena around midnight and returned to the hotel in search of a late-night dinner. We found a 24-hour café and ordered our food. I ordered penne, Bontemps had shrimp scampi and Jason asked for a chicken quesadilla and chicken parmesan.   “I ordered a lot of food,” Jason said.   “Well, you can always get it to go if you don’t finish it,” I suggested.   “No,” Jason responded. “I never take my food to go. I just eat it.”   OK then. Bontemps and I laughed once again.   The three of us had a conversation about sports, of course, and continued it throughout most of the meal. I asked Bontemps how his shrimp was. He said it was good and he likes to have shrimp for a change once in a while – it was simple, typical small talk.   “Yeah, I like shrimp too,” I said. “But I can’t eat too much of it too often.”   Bontemps was about to say something, but Jason spoke up: “Yeah, it’s like cheesecake.”   Bontemps and I burst out laughing – so much that we both began to cry. It was the first time in our lives that we ever heard anyone compare shrimp to cheesecake.   To be fair, Jason had made a good point, but just the way he said it was hilarious.   We finished our meals – well Jason didn’t but he doesn’t get his food to go anyway so it didn’t matter – and returned to the room around 1:30. I never realized how funny Jason was until these two meals. I’m looking forward to the next couple of days, not knowing what Jason will say next. But whatever it is, I’m sure it’s going to make me laugh. (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, March 8th, 2007
1:00 pm	Day 2: Our date with Jenny and Kelly The day’s first double header ended around 4:30. Jenny (Ackers) and Kelly (Jackson) decided it would be a fun idea to come visit us in Atlantic City. They had called Jason earlier in the day and he told them we’d meet up during our break between double headers.   At first we told them to meet us in the lobby of our hotel. But then Jason said we’d just call them when we got there so we could tell them exactly where we were. We had two hours before the evening’s double header began so we figured we would meet the girls for an early dinner. Keep in mind that along with our media credentials, we get “media hospitality” prior to each double header – basically meaning an all-you-can-eat buffet free of charge. So the primary reason for us leaving Boardwalk Hall for the hotel was to meet up and have dinner with our friends. We had no other reason for buying food at this point.   We took the shuttle to the hotel and walked to the casino level, looking for Jenny and Kelly – of course they were nowhere to be seen. Jason called both of them several times each, but neither of them answered.   After about 10 minutes of waiting around, Jason had an idea. He said, “I know exactly where they are.”   We backtracked a few hundred feet to near the shuttle drop-off place. Jason led us to the Discovery Channel store. “I knew they’d be here,” he said – and they were.   It was great to see a couple of our classmates away from Bona’s – and both ladies mentioned that several times throughout the hour.   The five of us walked to the buffet Bontemps and I ate at the previous night. “We don’t really want to spend $21 on food,” Jenny said. “Yeah, we’ll just watch you guys eat,” Kelly said.   That didn’t make any sense. First, we met them specifically to have dinner and spend time with them. If they hadn’t come, we wouldn’t be buying a meal, we’d be eating the free spread at the arena. Second, I didn’t see a posted sign, but I was fairly certain the buffet has a policy about not allowing people to just hang out and watch their friends eat.   “I don’t know if they’ll allow that,” I said. “Why don’t the two of you get something to eat and then we’ll eat later at the arena?”   So we walked a little farther and found a deli. Kelly bought a “hoagie” and Jenny, of course, ordered a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We found a table for two and squeezed five chairs around it as the three guys watched the two girls eat their dinner.   A few minutes after 6, we told them we needed to get back to the arena for the next game. We walked to the shuttle drop-off spot again and say good-bye to the girls.   Since the Atlantic 10 only had one shuttle running, we had to wait about 15 minutes for the mini bus to finish its route. When it finally arrived and we returned to the arena, it was just about time for the game to begin. Jason and I, being the responsible reporters that we are, returned to our seats on press row to continue our “coverage” of the tournament.   Bontemps, on the other hand, returned to the press room – which had become his home for the day, sitting next to Buffalo News sports reporter Mike Harrington – to take advantage of the dinner buffet.   By halftime, Jason and I left our seats and went to join Bontemps – who still had not made an evening appearance on press row – to have our dinner. By the time we entered the room, the buffet staff had removed the last hot buffet platter. Jason and I had missed dinner for the second time, but we didn’t mind too much because at least our good buddy Bontemps had eaten.   The second game ended and by the time we sat for the press conference, finished posting stories on the BV’s Web site and took the shuttle back to the hotel, it was after midnight – Jason and I had not had anything to eat since 11 a.m.   We walked around the hotel, but most of the restaurants were closed. Around 12:15 we found the one open restaurant and Jason and I finally had our dinner.   “You guys haven’t eaten since this morning, right?” Bontemps astutely said after we ordered our food. “If I knew they were going to take away the buffet before, I would have grabbed you guys some extra food.”   Jason and I exchanged looks. Thanks Bontemps. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 6th, 2007
11:26 pm	Day 1: Running around Atlantic City, searching for West Hall We arrived at the Tropicana Resort and Casino and parked in The Quarter parking garage around 4 Tuesday afternoon. After the two-and-a-half hour car ride through New Jersey, Bontemps and I were ready to get out of the car and walk around. We just didn’t know how much walking – or running – was ahead of us.   Entering the resort, we walked into the lobby to check in. Bontemps had reserved the room on his credit card and was worried about being charged for it.   “Has the room already been paid for from another credit card?” Bontemps asked the hotel attendant, hoping the St. Bonaventure employees had it already done.   “No,” the man responded with a confused look.    “That f—g MacBain!” Bontemps said in disgust. “Why couldn’t he just take care of this?”   “Sir,” the attendant said, “You don’t pay for the room until you leave. You can use a different credit card then.”   “Oh,” Bontemps said. “OK. That makes sense. Thanks for telling me that.”   Crisis No. 1 had been averted. We decided to drive to Boardwalk Hall, the venue of the week’s games, to check in and get our media credentials. Our walk to my car began our next adventure.   We left the hotel from the North Tower, our room’s location. We walked down the street, made a left and another left. “That’s the door where we left the parking garage before,” I said. We went inside and took the elevator to the fifth level. After getting off the elevator we looked around – my car wasn’t there.   “Hmm,” Bontemps said. “Maybe we were on the lower level.”   We entered the stairwell and descended to the fourth floor. No red Honda C-RV. We jumped the steps to the third floor. Still, no car.   “Let’s go this way,” Bontemps said as he broke into a jog. Wanting to keep up with my friend, I followed suit. We turned a corner. Then another. My car was still nowhere. Eventually we ran to the ground level.   “OK,” Bontemps said. “Let’s think about this.” We ran around the corner and found the entrance I had driven up – or so we thought. We sprinted up the ramp and looked around. No car.   We walked back to the street level and looked around again.   “There!” I said, pointing across the street. “That’s where we came in.” We jay-walked – or rather, jay-jogged – across the street and ran up the ramp. At last, our surroundings looked familiar and we knew my car was close.   Bontemps had the urge to run – I don’t know why. I just followed, holding my side as it began to cramp. I hadn’t done this much running outdoors in early March since Varsity baseball training my senior year of high school. All my memories of wind sprints around the bases came flooding back. I ran then because I wanted to make the team. I ran today because of Bontemps.   “You know,” I said, lagging about 10 feet behind my friend, “I don’t have the experience of being a former Division I cross country runner that you have.”   “Ha. Good point,” he said. “But I’m not in much better shape than you are.”   We finally turned the corner and saw my car. I unlocked the doors and we sat for a moment, catching our breath and sipping our cherry Gatorades. I started the car and drove down the street to Boardwalk Hall, located behind the enormous “TRUMP” letters prominently displayed on the outside of his building.   I parked my car, giving my $10 gift to Mr. Trump for allowing me the luxury to park in his beautifully decorated and well lit parking garage. (On a side note, I should be reimbursed for this, but I enjoy complaining about it now. Plus, it’ll probably be a hassle later on to get the money cleared, knowing how St. Bonaventure University offices run, but that’s a later entry to be written.)   We walked into the hall and asked a couple of security guards where we could obtain our credentials. One of them told us to walk on the boardwalk and go to West Hall, two sets of doors away from where we stood.   The ocean wind hit us in full force as we exited the building in search of West Hall. We walked a couple hundred feet to the will call ticket booth. “Excuse me,” I said to the ticket seller, “We’re here to pick up our media credentials for the A-10 Tournament.”   After speaking with his manager, the man told us we had to go back outside and walk to West Hall.   “Where is this West Hall? It’s impossible!” Bontemps complained as he broke out into a jog again. “The f—g A-10. Why do they have to have this tournament here? We should be in Philly in a nice arena.”   We came to the end of the building, confused as to where this ‘West Hall’ place was. We jogged to the front of the building and came to a loading dock. Bontemps walked forward into an enormous empty warehouse.   “Umm,” I said, thankful there was still daylight. “I don’t think I want to be here.”   We went back to the street and walked inside an administrative office and asked – for the third time to a third person – where we could get our credentials. “Oh,” she said, “you need to go to West Hall.”   At this point, we didn’t want to hear this. As far as we were concerned, ‘West Hall’ didn’t exist. Fortunately for us, this kind lady walked us outside and gave directions, pointing to the same place we were near the warehouse.   We returned and entered the building through a propped open door and another propped door.   “Bontemps,” I said. “Isn’t it weird that we need to walk through two sets of propped doors to get our credentials?” He shrugged his shoulders.   We found the place where we needed to be and showed our identification. After much running around – literally – and asking various people of where to go, we finally acquired our passes. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, March 3rd, 2007
12:15 pm	The Beginning of the Adventure As I promised last week, I will be updating my Live Journal regularly over the next week or so. Starting Tuesday, I will travel to Atlantic City, N.J. with Tim Bontemps and Jason MacBain to cover the Atlantic 10 Men's Basketball Tournament. The purpose of my journal updates is to document what will be a very entertaining experience. The following is the first entry, after a six-hour drive to my home in Orangeburg, a suburb of New York City with Bontemps.  I pulled into the parking lot outside of the Gardens apartment buildings a little after 3:30 Friday afternoon. I loaded my other two friends' bags into my Honda C-RV's trunk and gave Bontemps a call. After three or four rings he picked up.  "What's the deal good friend?" Bontemps said.  "Not much Tim. I'm outside your apartment whenever you're ready to go," I said.  "Good deal." About five minutes later Bontemps came out with his laptop bag and a book bag. He came to my car and told me he had to go back and get another bag. I looked at my car's trunk, trying to anticipate where I was going to squeeze in the additional bag. He said he'd be back in a minute and walked back to his building.  Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed. "We're off to a good start, Bontemps," I said to myself.  He came back out, I loaded his bag and we left campus. A few minutes later I merged onto Route 17 and the four of us were on our way home with me driving, my one friend sitting in the front passenger's seat and the other two, including Bontemps, sitting in the backseats.   "I am such an idiot," Bontemps said after about 45 minutes into the trip. "I can't believe I did that. I forgot my cell phone!"  That's great, Bontemps. What are you going to do for a week without your phone? "Novak, can I borrow your phone to call my sister. I'm hoping she didn't leave yet."  He called his sister on my cell phone. She had left. "Why don't you call MacBain?" I suggested. "If he didn't leave yet, he could get your phone and give it to you when we see him Tuesday."  "That's a good idea," he said as he selected MacBain's number on my phone.  Since I could only hear Bontemps' side of the conversation, I'm going to tell the following part of the story by filling in what I would guess MacBain would say in the situation.  "Hey man what's up? It's Bontemps on Novak's phone." "Hey," MacBain responded. "I forgot my phone in my apartment." "Are you serious? How could you forget your phone? That's ridiculous! You're going to need it all week. You're an idiot! How do you leave your apartment without your phone? God!"  "Bain -- I know. I don't need the 'how could you forget your phone' lecture. But I need you to do me a favor. Call security and ask them to let you into my apartment. My phone's on the kitchen counter."  "What?! I'm not going to do that! I'm about to leave to go home." "No. Come on Bain. Just do this favor for me. I'll pay you back the $10 security will charge you. I'll even give you $20 if you want." "Alright. Fine Bontemps," (he said into the phone) "What an idiot. Now I gotta do this for him?" (he said to himself). "Just call Novak's cell phone after you call security." A few minutes passed and my phone rang.  "OK, Bontemps, here's the deal. Security won't let me in unless you get the RD to clear it. Who's your RD?" "Umm. That's a good question. I don't know her name."  Pause.  MacBain stands in the parking lot in from of the Gardens apartment annoyed at Bontemps because he's delaying him from going home. "Why did I answer my phone?" MacBain asked himself.  "OK. Let me call security and explain this to them," Bontemps said. "I'll call you back to let you know what they said."  Bontemps dialed security's number. "Hello. I left my cell phone in my apartment and I'm already on the road heading out of town and I was wondering if you could send someone to let my friend in so he can get my phone because he's going to meet up with me later in the week."  Security responded to his request. "No. Can't you just let him in so he can take two steps in, get my phone off the counter and take two steps out?" Security responded again.  "I don't know my RD's name. Could you please give me her contact information so I could give her a call ... No? OK never mind then." He ended the call, muttering something about security services.  "Bain, security won't let you in unless the RD says it's OK. But could you do me another favor?" On a side note, remember those peanuts cartoons when one of the characters gets really angry and the thought bubble above his or her head is something like "$#@&"? Well, this is what I'm picturing MacBain's reaction to be.  "My roommate Phil is still on campus. Can you look for him, ask him for his key and then go into my apartment and get my phone? He's in one of three places: the Richter Center, the library or the Hickey. Can you just check those three places to see if he's there?" "What?!" MacBain yelled into the phone.  "Please do this for me and I'll be eternally grateful." "Fine. But I'm just checking the Richter. If he's not there, then I'm leaving," MacBain said.  "OK. Thanks very much Bain." Five minutes passed. My phone rang again.  "Phil's not in the Richter." "OK. I guess I'll just go without my phone this weekend. Thanks though."  "Alright, I'll see you Tuesday."  The problem was still unresolved, but the week's first adventure between Bontemps, MacBain and I had ended. This was the first of many -- and it was a good one.  If nothing else, this is going to be an entertaining week. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, February 23rd, 2007
4:39 pm	After a long time ... I'm back It's been awhile. My friend had me sign up for a LiveJournal last year. I wrote a couple of entries when I first joined, but then lost the desire. I prefer writing my thoughts to typing them, but I decided to give this another try. Something big has come up in the past week that I think I'll enjoy writing daily entries during the next two weeks. I'm intentionally being vague now, but I will be adding entries soon, so I'd appreciate it if you would check in every now and then. Thanks. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Sunday, May 7th, 2006
12:54 am	Respect "Bacon and cheese," one student said. "Bacon and cheese scrambled," another said. "Cheese, tomato and mushroom," a third said. "Good morning," said the fourth. Everyone in the St. Bonaventure University community knows of the poor reputation of the Hickey Dining Hall. According to the Princeton Review, students have voted it No. 1 in the "Is it food" category (or something along those lines). Although the food isn't the greatest in the world, it's also not the worst. I'm accustomed to great Italian cooking at home. The food at the Hickey can never be compared to the food my mother, grandmother and aunt prepare, but I can honestly say I have not gone a day when I have been hungry during the first half of my college career. I have learned in my experience breakfast is the best meal of the day. Each morning the dining hall offers made-to-order eggs. I try to eat breakfast every day because, as the cliche goes, I believe breakfast is the most important meal. I eat eggs three to four days a week. I'm not sure of the exact schedule for the cooks at the egg station, but the dining hall has about three or four men who do the job. A few mornings ago I stood at the end of the egg line, hopeful that my order would be taken before the 10 a.m. cutoff point, when the hall stops serving breakfast on weekdays. The three people in front of me ordered their eggs, and then came my turn. As I normally do before I order, I greeted the cook. "Good morning," I said. To my surprise, the cook stared at me for a few seconds and said, "Thank you." I did not expect this. I wondered, why is he thanking me? What did I do? He told me most people simply give their orders and expect him to cook for them. He said he appreciated my greeting and then smiled. My simple "good morning," something I say to countless people every day of my life, pleased this guy and put him in a good mood. I stood at the counter for the next few minutes, both waiting for my eggs to cook and observing the people behind me in line. I listened to the cook talk with another student. The cook said he had been in a bad mood that morning because one of my fellow students wrote a comment card saying he had a "fake" personality. That really frustrated me. Even more so than students complaining about the food, someone taking a personal attack on a cook was almost unbelievable. This man works hard to earn a living, and I'm sure it's not his ideal job. He does not deserve to be disrespected by the people he cooks for on a regular basis. I treat everyone with the respect they deserve. I greatly respect those who work hard in their lives, such as this man. In my two years here, I've witnessed this man, and his colleagues, work his hardest to prepare eggs and omelets for hundreds of students and I can only attempt to understand how much disrespect he has to deal with on a daily basis. I've noticed thus far in my life, two main things about the people in my generation: (1) We are lazy. No one has the desire or willingness to earn what they want. We expect everything to be done for us. Our parents and grandparents have already done the hard work and we think we can coast through school and then through our jobs. I will probably not understand the full meaning of this until I actually get out on my own and start paying bills and becoming accountable for every action I take and every decision I make. School is not difficult for me; it never has been. I've always received strong grades, but I never felt I've had to work hard to get them. I have a feeling this will change once I get my first job and I will get my first true dose of reality. (2) We don't respect our elders. In comparing the relationship between my father and his father and the relationship between my father and me, I have noticed great differences. My grandfather was a much greater disciplinarian. When he asked something of my father, my father always did it without question, out of fear and respect. When my father asks me to do something, I always put up an argument. Why is this? I respect my father, but not as much as I should. I think one of the reasons I act like this has to do with my first observation. In my young life I have been given many more opportunities than my father had in his young life. I've never really needed anything, and I'm thankful for that. However, it has made me, and many members of my generation, greedy and always wanting more. These two observations hurt my generation. We will not learn about these problems, or others, until something drastic happens which will impact all of us. My grandparents' generation had the stock market crash and my parents' generation still felt the effects of this through the lessons their parents taught them. Economic issues such as the importance of full-time employment, saving money and living conservatively have been passed on to my parents' generation, but have somehow become lost in my generation. Up until now, most of us have had our parents pay for everything. Our mentality tells us we don't need to work for a living because our parents will provide for us for the rest of our lives. For this reason, many of us seem to have a lack of respect for hard work. I may have gone on a major tangent here, but I think these issues greatly hurt our generation. Living in the technology age, we have become too reliant on computers and other machines to work for us, adding to our laziness. I always have shown, and will continue to show, respect to people who work hard for their money, especially those who cook my breakfast for me. A simple "good morning" or "how are you today?" will tell people you care and you respect them. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 7th, 2006
6:10 pm	Housing I wrote an op-ed for the Bona Venture, my school newspaper, this week about my feelings on the housing selection process at St. Bonaventure University. Here's what I wrote: I have never been written up. I maintain a grade point average over 3.0. I have not caused one problem since arriving here in Aug. 2004. One would think someone with a nearly flawless record such as this would receive certain benefits. One may ask, how many benefits? The answer: none. For the second consecutive year, I will not be able to have my first choice in where I want to live. I spent my freshman year on the third floor in Shay Hall without complaint. Last spring, my roommate and I decided we wanted a change and decided on living in either Devereux or Doyle halls. When the time came to actually select our room, however, the members of housing board announced to us, and many of our classmates sitting in the bleachers of the Reilly Center, both of those residence halls were filled. Shortly after, we learned the halls were not entirely filled with returning students, instead many of the rooms were empty as they were set aside for incoming freshmen. So, since our choices were unfairly limited, we grudgingly chose to live in Shay once again. This year, a group of five friends and I decided, in September, we wanted to live in a Gardens of Brother Leo apartment. Earlier this semester, we attended the first of four housing meetings and filed an application for the apartment we wanted. I personally filled out the paperwork and handed it in well before the Feb. 28 deadline. We returned from mid-term break, knowing that within days we would find out whether we had been accepted. Several weeks passed and we heard nothing. Monday, April 3, more than five weeks after the deadline, we still did not receive any word so my friend and I decided to go to the housing office to ask if we received an apartment. We did not. Now, the six of us had to decide where to live. An immediate thought was to remain in Shay and by the time we return in August, we would be rejoicing in the newly renovated four-person suites, living in the lap of luxury. But no, that would not work. These future suites, the most recently updated housing facilities on campus, are reserved for freshmen. What ever happened to seniority? Whatever happened to the idea of mixing the freshmen with upperclassmen? Isn’t that the main reason why I’m not living in Devereux or Doyle right now? I’ve spent almost two years at this university. My parents have already paid nearly half of my tuition, fees and room and board. You would think I’d have an advantage over the incoming class. I, along with my first Shay floormates, have had to deal with 7 a.m. wake up calls from the unrelenting drilling and hammering of construction crews in the basement, one floor below. I would be able to tolerate this much easier if I knew the future of this building would be a place for me to live. A few months ago, Sister Margaret announced the “big news” that the university borrowed over $8 million for to improve Shay, among other buildings on campus. But all I will get out of these improvements is a five percent tuition hike. Another poor aspect of the housing process is the lottery system. This is the most asinine thing I’ve ever heard of. Since it’s based more on random selection than on grades, students with a higher grade point average could have a much worse lottery number than those with a terrible GPA. I have two proposals for the housing department of this school. The first is freshmen housing. I understand enrollment is low and the university is trying to improve recruitment. But, instead of disadvantaging the upperclassmen, tell the freshmen they have to live in one designated dorm, let’s say Falconio and Robinson halls (you know, those “temporary” buildings which have been around for over 50 years), and then for their sophomore year, they can live in the Shay suites. My second proposal is to get rid of the lottery system. Please. The order should be based on grades, credits and write-ups. Reward well-behaved students with high GPAs by giving them first choice on housing. I have enjoyed my time here so far. I’ve made awesome friends and I’m learning a great deal in each of my classes. As one of the few students who actually avoids trouble and spends time studying to achieve high grades, please give me and my classmates similar to me the advantages we deserve. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Saturday, March 25th, 2006
2:13 am	NCAA Tournament Response For the past few years, my uncle has entered his office pool for the NCAA Final Four. The deal has been he paid the entrance fee and I fill out the bracket. This year, my uncle entered a pool with one of his best friends, who happens to also be my mother's first cousin. I made my picks through Yahoo! Sports and so far we have been doing very well. The way I see it, if the University of Connecticut wins the tournament, we will most likely win the pool. Although it's fun to gamble on the tourney once a year, I don't really have an alliance to any college basketball team. I mainly make my picks based on instincts and a little bit of research. Living near New York City, I never chose a college basketball team to support. Since being in college, I have met people from many different places than I am from. Many of my friends are from upstate and western New York: Syracuse, Buffalo and Elmira. It's difficult for me to understand how people can support a college team in which they have not been to. When it comes to college sports, I call myself a St. Bonaventure fan. Many people at this university are Syracuse fans. This annoys me for several reasons. Probably the main reason is I don't understand how one can root for a college team. Another reason is St. Bonaventure and Syracuse are rivals. If you're such a big "Cuse" fan, then why don't you just go to Syracuse University, or a school without a division one basketball team? Last night Louisiana State University defeated Duke in the Sweet 16 round of the tournament. Several so-called Duke fans in my hall were very angry at the defeat. Once again, I do not understand the alliance with Duke. I'm sure these people never attended Duke University and probably have never visited the campus. I call these people "front-runners," who just support the consistently successful teams. It's crazy to me to get angry over a college team losing in the tournament, especially if it's a college you do not attend. For the remainder of the tournament, I will be cheering for UConn so that I will be successful in my pool. Other than that, I will never be upset by a team losing in the NCAA tournament until St. Bonaventure is granted a seed, which probably won't be for at least another 50 years. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Friday, March 24th, 2006
12:58 am	Initial feelings My friend Jon told me about this site and recommended me to join it. I've tried keeping a journal before and it has been a difficult thing for me probably because of my laziness. Most of my journaling experience has been assigned writing for classes since kindergarten. I recently began keeping a journal about my experiences in college. I have many big ideas. At this point in my life I don't know how realistic these ideas are, but I believe it's important for people to set goals and try to work for them. I'm currently a journalism student and I enjoy learning about the craft. The professor I've had for the past three semesters has been great. The most important aspects about writing I have learned is to be concise and verbs are the most important parts of speech. Recently I have read essays I wrote in high school and I can easily realize my writing has improved. When writing a sentence, I try to find which verb I want and shape the sentence around it. This semester we have been working on feature writing. It's very difficult for me to actually go out and interview people. I find the first introduction very difficult. Once I get to know someone and spend some time with him or her I have no problem being social. But walking up to people I've never met is very hard. I force myself to do this because it's an important skill which will inevitably help me in life. In general, I view college as one big learning experience. Although I do not necessarily enjoy each class I take, I try to take something useful from each one. I have nearly perfect attendance in every class. It's always been very important to me to be where I'm supposed to be, when I'm supposed to be there. I never know what I may miss for not attending a class. My mother always tells me my job right now is to be a student. I take this job seriously and I want my teachers and classmates to know how serious I am. I frustrate myself by sometimes being lazy. At the end of a term, I sometimes look at my final grade and think I could have done better. This is one of the worst feelings I've experienced. But I try to learn from that. The first day of a class is a new beginning. I want to achieve the highest grade possible (which is not always an 'A'). My parents expect me to do my best and they pay for my education. I don't want to let them down and I don't want to let myself down. I set realistic personal goals for each course. At the end of the semester, if I get the grade I deserve and I wanted, I'm happy. Current Mood: calm (Comment on this)