Category: Caitlyn Goodhue (page 3 of 3)

That One Time My Week Was an Emotional Rollercoaster Ride…

Whew, what a whirlwind of a week! And what a difference seven days can make. I mean, just to mention the obvious example – anyone with rudimentary religious knowledge is probably sighing in acknowledgement right now – of that one time God casually made the world, and the animals, and the oceans, and the trees…and, you get the idea. Seven days. Just seven days, people.

You, arbitrary audience member, might be wondering, “Caitlyn, what exactly happened this week?” Well, curious audience member, besides extreme sleep deprivation, this past 168-hour period was filled with SO MANY EMOTIONS. As my younger sister says whenever she can’t adequately express her emotional reactions, “All the feels!” This phrase perfectly describes my week because my emotions were somewhat kaleidoscopic, a.k.a. all over the place. There was happiness, numbness, excitement, devastation, pride, hunger (especially while studying for the Nutrition 200 exam I had this past Wednesday), discomfort, nervousness, fulfillment, and of course tiredness. Unfortunately, elaborating on all of those sentiments would take forever. So, I’m just tackling the major ones.

(Air of mystery: Can you guess where I’m going?)

EXCITEMENT: At the beginning of this week, I had zero idea what I’d be doing over Winter Session. Now, I’m going to be studying abroad! It was a sort of last-minute thing, and by last-minute I mean, I-literally-filled-out-the-application-and-got-the-professor-recommendation-and-submitted-the-deposit-and-interviewed-with-the-professor-in-a-24-hour-period. No lie. As a Spanish major, I’m beyond excited to have the chance to visit a place in which I’ll be 100% immersed in the language. I can’t wait!

DEVASTATION: I care more about grades than I sometimes realize. This week, I learned the score of a test I had taken last Friday. I found out this Monday. It was 11:15 a.m. or so, after my first class, and I was on my computer when I noticed that yet another email had sailed into my inbox. The email was from the new UD Canvas site and its message was simple: “Your assignment has been graded.” I clicked on the email, was redirected the Canvas site…and devastation ensued. “What even HAPPENED? Why do I study so much for nothing? Why am I even a Spanish major? Why bother?” Ugly, irrational thoughts immediately shut out everything else. After a good cry – sometimes necessary – my solution was action. I met with the professor, and hopefully, maybe, next time I’ll do better.

HUNGER:Quite simply, nothing prepared me for the dangers of studying for Nutrition 200. I WAS READING ABOUT FOOD. NOTHING BUT FOOD.

Oh, yeah, why am I in Nutrition 200 as a senior? Don’t put off your Group Ds, kids. Then you’ll be that one senior in a sea of freshmen. Seriously though: on the first day the professor innocently instructed, “Raise your hand if you’re a freshman!” And my only thought was, “They’re everywhere!” I was so outnumbered that I decided right then and there to pretend I was a sophomore/junior. It was safer.

But back to the actual late-night study session, I could only eat so many bananas before I went straight for the cookies. Newfound knowledge be darned.

My limited wisdom? Everything can change in an instant. My week started on a sour note, and ended more sweet.

(Yes, yes I am throwing in nutrition terms purposefully.)

The Girl Who Dreamed

“J.K. Rowling Announces New Harry Potter Universe Film Series.” That headline, courtesy of Buzzfeed, completely and totally made my Thursday.

I was just minding my own business, checking out Yahoo! News and Buzzfeed before leaving for my 12:30 p.m. class, looking for slightly less serious stories and not expecting to find anything earth-shattering. BUT then I discovered that something fantastic will be happening in the not-too-distant future, which involves J.K. Rowling and the wizarding world she created (*cue excitement*). Personally, I love that this upcoming movie series exists in the same universe as HP, but is set in New York seventy years earlier with a new main character: Newt Scamander, author of Fantastical Beasts and Where to Find Them, whose grandson ultimately marries character Luna Lovegood.

I think the world can be divided into two types of people: Harry Potter fans and non-Potter fans, also known as individuals who either (a) tried reading the first book but didn’t like it or finish it, (b) saw one of the movies at a friend’s birthday party one time (5? 4? 6? the one with the dragon and the maze?) but had no idea what was going on, or (c) were never exposed to the source material at all.

I fall into the first category. Since I have a handful of friends who don’t, though, I try not to judge. Some people just prefer reality to fantasy, and I definitely understand that.

But, as a fan, I’m ridiculously excited over this recent, real, J.K.-approved announcement with the promise of more wizard-related material to come. I mean, I re-read all the books several times, saw all the movies in theaters, eagerly waited in line for most of the midnight premiers – sans costume, at least – and am currently registered on Pottermore. Speaking of J.K. Rowling’s interactive Harry Potter-themed website, I decided to retake the Pottermore sorting quiz online this week, since the complete quiz is available via Google. The last time I took the test was during my sophomore year of college, and I felt that 1.5-ish years was a significant amount of time to allow for a house change…and was upgraded to Ravenclaw! Life complete. (I was previously Hufflepuff and don’t really want to talk about it.)

Anyway, J.K. Rowling is one of my idols. I’ve even watched old YouTube videos of her being interviewed about the Harry Potter series before it became such a worldwide phenomenon; that’s how much I admire her. Since my goal is to someday publish a book series, it’s almost impossible not to feel a strange mixture of appreciation/fascination/mild jealousy for the woman who utterly realized that dream. I also wrote a college essay about it; it was for one of those “Who do you admire and why?” type prompts.

This week, I saw the following chart, based on the famous psychology personality chart proposed by Jung and Briggs-Myers but with Harry Potter characters:image06

 I took the psychology test for the first time and found out that I’m INFP, which corresponds with Luna Lovegood. I clicked on a link following my results to “See what famous people share your type!” and found out that J.K. Rowling shares the same INFP personality. Maybe it’s a sign.

 

 

Language Major Problems

Something new happened to me as I was walking out of my Tuesday/Thursday Spanish class this week: I forgot what language I should be speaking.

To set the scene, I was exiting Gore Hall after my 305 Spanish Conversation class ended this past Tuesday. My professor for this class is from the Universidad de Granada. As a side note, after now having two professors from this Spanish university, I just have to say, taking a class with someone who was born and raised in Spain makes me want to buy a plane ticket to the country more than anything.

But back to the current story: after leaving Tuesday’s Spanish class, I literally forgot that I was now walking around the University of Delaware campus…in America. Not Spain, not even our neighborly Puerto Rico: good ole English-speaking, French-fry eating America (or, as some might prefer to say, “A-MUR-ica”).

After the shuffle of papers, pens, books, bags and backpacks signaling the end of my 12:30 p.m. class, my mind was distracted with normal, day-to-day thoughts like, “I wonder what my in-class assignment is going to be for my Broadcast Writing class in fifteen minutes,” and, “Do I have a snack with me?” Except – and I’m not positive about this – I believe that I was thinking in Spanish (*cue shocked gasp from the audience*).

It’s not totally far-fetched, since I’ve been doing it (“it” being “thinking Spanish thoughts”) more and more since the semester started a week ago. To give a tad more background information, after switching my Spanish minor to a Spanish Studies major about a year ago, I started playing a hard-core game of catch-up, or more specifically, “time for Caitlyn to take three Spanish classes per semester in order to graduate on time and not have her parents roast her alive for being indecisive throughout most of her college career.” Weirdly enough, although I had the same course load – three Spanish classes a semester – during both semesters last year, this fall is the first time that I’ve noticed myself thinking in Spanish, and even *wait for it* dreaming in Spanish once last week.

Again, usually I have a pretty firm grip on realizing when to speak Spanish, i.e. Spanish classes and random interactions with other Spanish speakers, and knowing when to speak English, i.e. every other instance in my life. Not when walking out of Gore on that fateful Tuesday, though.

Here’s how it went down: some arbitrary guy in front of me held open the door on the way out of the building into the day’s blazing sunshine. Blinded some by the glare, and not at all having a grip on my language/country, I started to reply, “Gracias.”

I did stop myself before completing the entire word, so it was more like a startled, “Grac—,” but still, the damage was done. I then relied on my normal defense mechanism: running away.

In retrospect, it’s one of those situations that ends up being more funny than embarrassing. And, after thinking about it, I was almost proud in a strange sort of way; it was almost as if I had auditioned for the part of Spanish major and finally made the cast list.

Delaware the Prizefighter: My UD Story

A stack of college books, over twenty visits to schools up and down the east coast, and a final pro-and-con sheet between the last two contenders: that’s how I chose UD.

I’m the oldest child in my family, which translates into: “My parents had no idea what I needed to do to apply to school.” As a result, they went for the super-over-prepared route, which, in retrospect, was honestly a lot better than the alternative. As early as my junior year of high school, I was so ready for the next step, a fresh start, a new location. I would sit by the window in my house’s office, covered with at least two sweatshirts and the warmest available blanket (ah, the wonderful weather of Connecticut), and would look out at the barren wintertime woods – all the while rifling through college books like The Best 368 Colleges or the Fiske Guide to Colleges. I purposely would bookmark all the warmer college locations at my fingertips; my number one requirement was getting away from the cold.

As parents dealing with the college process for the first time, my mom and dad thought it was standard to visit every school possibile on my ever-growing list. So, during the April break of my junior year of high school, my mom and I fully experienced Southern United States: we stayed in hidden, out-of-the-way hotels in the middle of empty tobacco fields; ate at restaurants that served grits and fried everything; and were constantly met with friendly Southern accents. The April break trip ended with a resounding “meh”; the South was a little too southern for me.

Florida was an entirely different story. As someone who spent five years of my life in the Sunshine State and whose family – myself included – visited my grandparents in the gulf-coast town of Port Charlotte annually, the college odyssey to Florida was a much easier trip in the sense that everything was so much more familiar. But in the end, I crossed both schools that I toured – Eckerd and Flagler (Never heard of them? Yup, that’s what extensive college research can do…) – off my list permanently. Neither felt like a “YAY I love this place,” but more like a, “That strange man holding a weird protest sign keeps looking at me and I want to go home.”

Flagler according to the internet.

Flagler according to the internet.

What the area around Flagler really was like…plus the buildings didn’t really look like as nice as their online counterparts.

Protesters

Protesters

Protesters

Protesters 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I decided to focus on the Mid-Atlantic region, which in my mind, as four-to-five hours in the right downward direction, still fulfilled my “south” requirement. After the nail-biting arrival of acceptance letters, two schools made the final cut; basically, I went to each last contestant’s Accepted Students Day. Picture a boxing match: in one corner, dressed in a blue-and-white unnecessarily expensive matching track suit, Villanova sits filing his nails before bell sounds. In the other corner, decked out in blue-and-gold, Delaware, the unassuming fighter, waits patiently, mentally contemplating the best strategy for when the first round finally starts.

Ultimately, of course, Delaware, the patient prizefighter, had a few more tricks up his sleeve. At UD’s Accepted Students Day, with the balloon arches, welcoming people, copious cherry trees still in bloom, and the overall happy feel, Delaware won the match.

 

Summer in the City: Concrete Jungle Where Dreams Are Made of…

It’s the place singers sing about, the place writers write about, the place that countless actors/comedians/performers/entrepreneurs/directors go to “make it big.”

“If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.”

New York City.

And I’m here!

brightlights

Two weeks ago (editor’s note: it’s been a little more than two weeks ago at this point 🙂 ), when my internship officially started that Monday, I was acquainted with New York City’s finest underground transportation system – the subway! – for only the second time in my life. But luckily the first time I was with friends who actually, you know, were familiar with the city…instead of me, in my business casual attire, standing alone and looking like a fish flopping around on land, basically. Read: I did not look like a native…at all.

So, literally the first subway ride that I took escalated into an immature, laughably ridiculous fight. I was thinking to myself beforehand, Can’t the universe give me a nice, calm introduction to the bowels beneath the city? Please? But the universe was like, “Nuh-uh.”

Some younger woman/teenager in her late teens or early twenties, with blond hair covered by oversized, colorful headphones and baggy pants, apparently bumped into a middle-aged African-American guy while getting onto the Times Square Shuttle. What happened was up there with one of the most intelligent (*sarcasm*) exchanges probably ever uttered on the subway (even though as I type this, I realize that I’m really not qualified to make such a statement since the subway is still such a mysterious thing to me). But anyway, it went something like:

“You hit me.”

“YOU hit ME.”

“Stupid b*&#t. Karma gonna kill you.”

“YOU’RE STUPID. You’ll never do anything.”

“Back off.”

“YOU back off.”

“Shut up.”

“YOU shut up!”

“NO, you shut up!”

The fight continued with a few more repetitive, “No, YOU *insert insult/insulting phrase here*” back-and-forth comments. Other people were laughing, but I was mostly shocked. Look away; don’t make eye contact; they can sense your fear, irrational commands kept jumbling up inside my brain. I got off in a panic. Some homeless-looking guy, with a shopping cart filled to the brim with trash bags, gave me a toothless grin. I made the mistake of looking his way. He laughed, “You have no idea where you are or where you goin’.” He said it as a statement, not a question.

He was right.

First official day: Subway (1), Caitlyn, (0).

Tune in next time to hear more subway-related escapades involving a large, airplane-approved suitcase and a smelly man singing “Jailhouse Rock” in my face.

Rodent sightings: one small mouse in my dorm (not okay)

Celeb sightings: 5.5

Superhero sightings: one overweight Spider-man in Times Square

~Caitlyn Goodhue

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