The Vinyl Jackets looked like Vampire Weekend, except Vampire Weekend doesn’t have an Asian on violin with tight white pants. I digress. the VJs were descent at times, kind of “post this on YouTube” at other times. They were always entertaining though. This is not the main part of the story or else this post would be titled the VJs. I will now wrap it up. A flashing magnet, some tambourines and an Asian’s butt in my face later and their set was finished.

Roommate left before the VJs finished. Then, Guy with a guitar came back. He has a very nice singing voice. There were some sound malfunctions, but all in all, he was good.

Now for the part where I can’t think of words to describe what happened, but I use words anyways.

Apparently this Joel Levi is quite popular on campus. He graduated in oh six and was performing with the Andrews from Ferguson and this other guy on drums. Many people flocked the stage. I was probably the only freshman in a 20-foot radius of Mr. Levi himself. I had never heard of Joel Levi before tonight. Honestly, I thought it was another Indie boy who could play guitar and write sultry lyrics. I was wrong, so very, very wrong.

The band set-up and worked with the sound people and I was anticipating the sound. The sound was nothing anyone could ever anticipate. Even if someone had heard the music before (which many obviously did because they sang along), the sheer power of this sound is unexpectable (new word, remember it). Joel Levi and his band of merry mates were spectacular. I became more happy as a person as I listened to them.

It wasn’t just the music. It was everything. The sound was so intense that it vibrated through my entire body. My stomach was quivering with every strum, every hit, every note. I could feel a lady’s leg keeping time with the beat behind me. A girl harmonized with nearly every song that was sung. Another woman sit-danced with all her emotions. It was and incredible experience. Though a lot of it was unrelated to the band, none of it would have been possible without the Joel Levi and companions band.

I was walking to my dorm when I saw a boy outside of Dunn Hall jumping up against the door with his butt. I can only assume he was trying to unlock it.

Beat Two: The girl who lost her phone

I was walking around during the presentation of “Star Trek” with my roommate Alissa taking pictures of different AUesque things. As we were headed back I felt it necessary to roll down a hill, and then another. We then proceeded to walk back to our dorm room where I immediately took off my very supportive and very uncomfortable bra. Shortly after, I realized my phone was missing. Then with my very impressive detective skills, I deduced my Samsung Eternity that I received four days before must have fallen out of my pocket whilst I was rolling. Alissa and I walked back to the valley, along with a fellow that joined us (don’t really know why), on a quest to find my very nice cellular device. I assigned Alissa hill one and I scoped out hill two. All of the sudden I hear Regina Spektor coming from a nearby grassy knoll(sp?). When I investigated, I found my phone.

Beat Three: Why a girl does (or does not) need a “rape” whistle

Everyone on campus is given whistle to blow in case someone is attacking them or they fall and can’t get up. I have one of these fondly called “rape” whistles. I was in the lab (for my fourth consecutive hour) when my roommate called to check up on me. Very sweet. Not so sweet is the reminder that it was dark and “dangerous” outside. As I exited the library I searched through my bag to grasp my “rape” whistle. I then tweeted (@julialittle) about my current experience. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, so of course I start singing. Who’s going to rape someone yelling “Breakable” by Ingrid Michaelson. No one, that’s who. People across the valley were staring and I was walking as fast as I could. Then I felt a manhand on my shoulder. I blew the “rape” whistle. All my fears went straight to my bladder. No, I didn’t pee myself, but almost. As soon as my eyes started functioning, I saw him. The one boy who I could even remotely consider having a crush on is standing in front of me. He said “I just wanted to tell you that I liked that song.” I hate my life. He then walked me to my dorm with a little chuckle in everything he said, probably because of my stupidity. *heavy sigh*

This morning the freshmen were herded into Reardon Auditorium. There was a band playing on the stage, no vocalists. I was with my “family group,” which is a fun way of sticking 10 people together so they can mingle and then never talk to each other ever again. The vocalists walked on stage and introduced themselves. Then we began to worship.

I must digress briefly. My times at Southport Presbyterian were good. That church is the reason I became a follower. But recently when I attend a service, I felt nothing. I couldn’t feel the presence of God. Where once I was stirred to worship, I was now bored to tears. I now continue with the original dialogue.

I began to sing along with the usual lack of enthusiasm, but then a familiar song began to be played, “Lead Me to the Cross.” I felt something. I could feel God’s presence in me. It’s been so long since I’d had that feeling. I was worshiping. I wasn’t just listening or just singing, I was worshiping the God who created me.

Since then I’ve felt better. I feel like this can be my home. I’m not going to shrink out of the picture. My experiences on this campus is going to be one of those college stories I tell my students when I start teaching. It was spectacular.