I’m cleaning out files on my MacBook the other day. Basically I’m bored and going through old files to see what I find. I opened up the DropBox inside the Public folder and found a txt file titled DearJustinCoxFromAStranger. Imagine my surprise when I realized I didn’t actually create this file. So, I did what anyone would do, I opened it. This is what it said:

Dear Justin Cox

Hello stranger, how are you? I am connected to your computer right now– Don’t worry! I can’t see your personal files or write anything onto your hard disk. I just wanted to write a friendly note, and say I hope your flight out of Seattle goes well tonight. Maybe we’re taking the same flight? We could be friends! If you happen to read this before you board your plane tonight, you should stand up and whistle or something, that way I know who you are. If not, then I hope your travels are pleasant and there are no delays. Have a great night!

*m

If you’re not familiar with Mac security, the Public folder and the DropBox are left open to easily share files between computers. Apparently while I was waiting for my midnight flight out of Seattle, leaving the wonderful world of PAX behind, someone was snooping computers on the network and found Justin Cox’s MacBook — gotta love the simplicity of the default computer naming scheme in OS X. Trying to be friendly they left me a little note. They just didn’t count on me not finding the note for five months. Joke’s on them I guess.

Finding this file reminded me of browsing the dorm network in college. I used to find all kinds of interesting stuff on people’s computers who didn’t realize they were sharing their files with the world. Printing on random people’s printers is also fun but not really profitable. Public safety reminder: in the event you find yourself connected to a dorm network, lock down your computer.

Oh yeah, and if you’re a traveling fool and use your laptop in airports, be sure to check your DropBox before boarding the plane. You might make a friend… or meet a stalker. You never know.

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I graduated from The Florida State University a little over a week ago with a degree in Business Administration. I actually don’t have the degree yet. It comes in the mail at some point, or so they tell me. I guess it was pretty cool now, but while I was actually graduating it just seemed like a big pain. Let me put it in context.

The night before the ceremony I was packing until 2am. Four hours of sleep later I was up and getting dressed, amidst the revelation that the ‘Runaway Bride’ made the story up, and heading out the door for Commencement. Three hours later I was back in my dorm moving out. It just seemed like a big mess, but now I’m a college graduate and that is pretty cool.

You could say I’m putting off my entrance to the real world by just a little bit. No, I’m not going on to get an MBA or a law degree, but I am working at the church as the Summer Youth Intern. Basically I get to plan out the summer for the kids and make it all happen. It’s actually a lot of fun and a pretty sweet way to transition into the working world.

On the web side of things, it seems I have a boat load of web pages to be working on of late. There is this one, the old Bryan Hall site, my newly acquired www.JustinCox.com, and two new sites: one for a hosting company and the other for a friend seeking fame as an actress. Look for more information on those once the sites are completed.

I guess you can say I’ve been keeping pretty busy and probably will throughout the summer. Mixed in all the above activities I’m going to be trying to find a job so if anyone has something to offer, feel free to contact me. But that’s my life in a nutshell. Maybe I’ll try and update more often here and actually make this site worth viewing. We’ll see.

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As many of you know I consider myself a loyal member of the Parrothead nation and have now attended seven Jimmy Buffett shows in Orlando, Tallahassee, Atlanta and now Jacksonville. I haven’t quite made it to the point where my car turns into a shark and I wear a grass skirt though it really can’t be that far off the horizon. Last night Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band played Jacksonville for the first time in almost twenty years and I was there, enjoying every minute of it. But before I get into the show, I’ve got to build up the story.

Sometimes it just comes down to who you know. My friend Kyle happens to work for the State of Florida and has a few connections that reach into the US Department of State. I won’t reveal the full extent of his connections here so as not to get anyone into possible trouble. But lets just say he knows a guy who knows a guy who is the attorney for the Jacksonville Veterans Memorial Stadium. And wouldn’t you know that just happened to the venue where Bubba was playing? Needless to say a request was made and last Thursday afternoon word was passed down the preverbal grapevine that tickets would be waiting at will call for us. Plans were made and around two yesterday afternoon we left Tallahassee for I-10. There were just about a hundred and fifty miles between us and our Parrothead friends.

When we got to the stadium we knew things were on our side as we scored a parking space right next to the exit of the lot. Fighting to leave would not be a problem after the concert. Never having spent more then a fleeting moment in Jacksonville, we had no idea where we could score dinner before the show. What do you do in that situation? Ask a newsman. The guy pointed us to The Amsterdam Cafe right next to the stadium and dinner was had. The cheeseburgers, not quite in paradise but good none the less, seriously showed up minutes after we ordered. These guys were on the ball. Next stop, will call.

Here is where our troubles began. Kyle went up to will call to claim the tickets and was told that there was nothing in the computer under his name but from the sound of who left them, chances was they were in the marketing office. So we went there. These people didn’t really put second thought into it as the names we were dropping seemed too good to be true and when they couldn’t find our tickets either, decided to ignore us. After a frantic phone call to his connection–which resulted in voice mail–another attempt was made at will call with a different teller. This woman seemed to be in a friendlier mood then the first and decided to try all the names the tickets could possibly be under: Kyle’s, Kyle’s connection, Kyle’s connection’s attorney friend. At this point the woman told us to step aside and wait. Ten minutes later she arrived out of a side door with our tickets, Section 101, row B, seats 10-12. It was now only a matter of time.

Once the gates opened we hit up the t-shirt vendor, which was organized madness to say the least. Conversation was made with the woman in front of us about t-shirt selections and, of all things, how to be more visible on a dive boat. Once the purchases were made, it was time to find our seats. We had no idea where they were in relation to the stage as an arena map was nowhere to be found, though from the seat numbers they sounded good. Good is an understatement, these seats were great. Section 101 was on the left corner of the stage and Row B translated to the second row. So there we were, about forty-five minutes before show time and almost close enough to touch the stage. After some small talk with our local security guard, and the realization that people owned tickets to seats one through seven of our row–which didn’t exist–we were ready to go.

Prior to the show, while the owners of the phantom seats were straightening things out with guest services, beach balls were flying across the stadium. There was a little girl, no older then eight, waiting in front of us with her mom while her dad took care of their tickets. Every time a beach ball ended up in our general area (and by general area I mean about a four row radius) it was given to her and in her attempt to spike it into the crowd she would inevitably hit one of us in the face. This little girl is probably the only person in the stadium that was luckier then us last night as when guest services fixed their seating arrangement they ended up right in front of the stage–so close that the girl was able to hand Jimmy, while he was performing, a note she had written him. This netted the girl, upon his return for his first encore, one of Jimmy’s sandals.

Once everyone’s seating arrangements were taken care of, the show began. What a show it was. In typical Buffett fashion he played almost thirty songs, a good majority which was from his older, dust covered catalogue–this made me particularly happy. A few shameless segments, a video tribute to the late Johnny Carson, and two encores–one dedicated to the recently departed Hunter S. Thompson–and nearly three hours later the show was over and it was time to go home. By two in the morning, twelve hours after the journey began, I was in bed attempting to recharge my batteries in time for class this morning. And that is the story of how I acquired Buffett tickets and sat just off the stage and made eye contact with one of the greatest performers of the last few decades.

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I have to say, Tallahassee is a much different place that early in the morning. The streets were empty, small offices and store fronts down Monroe towards I-10 were actually decorated for Christmas–it seemed like a very different place then I am used to. At the gas station I usually fill up at, just before getting on I-10, instead of trading pumps with other kids doing the same thing I was, I was trading pumps with blue collar guys filling up their trucks for the day ahead.

When I first got on I-10 the sky was as dark as could be. It was that time of the very early morning after the moon sets but before the sun begins to rise–other then the headlights of the few cars on the road, there was nothing visible. Then somewhere around Madison (I think) the sky changed to a very dark blue–the sun was preparing to rise. As this happened, for about 10 minutes, I was able to see the stars and it was pretty cool. I remember reading somewhere where the author called this time of day “The Magic Hour.” The Magic Hour gave me a strange energy that told me the decision I had made to forgo sleep and make the 275 mile drive home was actually a good one–then came the rain.

Somewhere just north of Gainesville God opened up the flood gates and decided to deliver a torrential downpour upon us. It just goes to show that God is not a fan of Gainesville. The rain was so bad that for a period of about 5 minutes I couldn’t see anything except the tail lights of the car a hundred yards in front of me. But I wasn’t deterred, I just kept on trucking and by the time I was south of Gainesville the rain was gone.

The rest of the drive went very smoothly–I was even able to listen to the Monsters live on Real Radio which is something that I haven’t been able to do since the summer. I arrived into Orlando around 930, 10 and I’ve got to admit, leaving that early in the morning actually made the drive seem quicker and easier to handle. Though as soon as I got all my stuff out of the call I passed out and didn’t wake up again until well after 300.

Now I’m back in Orlando for the rest of the month. Monday will bring me back to the law firm for one last tour of duty. I’ve got all the Christmas festivities to look forward to, Chad’s wedding, the New Year and the Citrus Bowl. Then it’ll be back to Tallahassee for the final semester of my college career. But I’ll leave that all for another day.

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June twenty-something, 2001: orientation at Florida State University, I am at the ripe “old” age of eighteen. Being a high school graduate, I perceive myself as being so scholarly from four years of pitter-pattering in AP programs, Honors classes, and studying for the SAT’s. Yep, I am as ignorant, innocent, and unacquainted with the world as they come. And by world, I mean college. Even more, to my delayed horror, I have yet to realize the very narrow bridge materializing before me that transitions me from my ingenuous high school ceremony into the unclaimed, undiscovered world of bottomless kegs, masquerades of sorority girls, stoned roommates, and kitchen floors so sticky from the party two weeks ago that you dare not go without shoes while fabricating an excuse to use on your professor for why your research paper sucked so bad, and oh you’d just do anything to make it up to him or her. (Take a breath here.)

Now, some of this may be reality for you all out there who are in smack dab of college, or it may all be senselessness, depending on which side of the campus you’re on. Wait, did I say campus? I meant which side of the keg. In my own experience, knowledge of the “keg” and parties didn’t even come until late sophomore year. My freshman year I dated a sophomore, an ex-football player who had about the same amount of brain power and charisma as a laboratory rat. We all know that sort. Of course, it wasn’t until months after we broke up that I discovered the wonderful world of meeting people in the depths of Friday nights where you wait until ten o’clock at night to spend two hours getting ready for a party where everyone is too wasted to notice the color of your eyes anyways. That’s the beauty of such college experiences, specifically in Tallahassee: as long as you got a red plastic cup in hand, perhaps a beer in the pocket, and, for some ladies, ensuring that seventy-five percent of the body exposed, then you’re in. Even more astonishing about some parties you might throw is that you probably won’t even know about eighty percent of the people there, and they sure as hell won’t even know that it was your keg and mudslides and vodka they drank so greedily at your 21st birthday party that you barely had a sip of anything. And no, I am not bitter at all about that.

I’ve had some very memorable experiences at particular parties, some of which had themes, which to me can be the best part of the party. My first experience with a theme-toned party was the all-time awesome “toga” party where it took my friend Caity about two hours to figure out (using the internet as a source, of course) how to fashion a toga and then come help me pin up my blue pin-striped sheet. About twenty minutes into arriving at the house, Caity and our mutual friend Erin, managed to climb onto an oak table that had belonged to someone like the great-great grandmother of the hostess, boogie on it to the lyrics of Get busy, just shake that booty non-stop and then suddenly WHAM!, I hear from all the way out on the porch the enormous thuds of two 110 pound bodies hitting the floor, practically breaking that precious oak table practically in half.

Surely, there is definitely more to just the free-for-all parties that serve up every imaginable kind of golden fizz that you can think of. Football games are prime times to justify becoming intoxicated, but I’ve only gone to about three my entire college career, so I am not one to say. One thing I have come to realize is that one of the only differences between a party and football game is that instead of getting wasted at night, everyone gets wasted in broad daylight. What’s more hilarious of a pursuit is when some end up getting trashed during parents’ weekend where the hidden truths of “innocent” college students are crudely revealed when fathers may see, say, some Sigma Nu boy doing a body shot off his own daughter. (Of course, that never, ever happened to me… not even on Super bowl Sunday, but that’s an entirely different scenario, and thank God my father wasn’t there.)

Some of us go to college to find ourselves, find love, find our knack in the world. I don’t know if I have done any of this, but I do know that I don’t have any regrets, and I hope you won’t either. We may make tremendous mistakes but I know that they were at least fun most of the time. So, whether you find your true love in college or just give yourself cirrhosis of the liver, I wish that you experience college just like Gandhi says, “Learn as if you were to live forever, live as if you were to die tomorrow.” Go to class, it actually makes more of a difference than I thought because most of the test questions are practically spelled out on the board and once in a while you might actually get lucky enough to get a really hot graduate student for an instructor. For everyone, whether you’re a first-semester freshman or a seventh-year senior, take up every opportunity like it is your last. Almost every class I’ve been to has given me some piece of knowledge to remember, and almost every person I’ve met has impacted my life in sometimes enormous ways. You never know when introducing yourself to that hottie across the room just might change your entire life.

*Oh, and don’t ever think that people at your party are nice, they will steal your cell phone off your own kitchen counter and call your family members at 4 am and then lead you on a wild goose-chase to find the damn phone which never is found anyways because the thief passed out before you could find out where he’s hiding it. Ok, that’s it.

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Reality After College
Written by Florida State alumni Tony Salvagio

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Written by Lone-Palm Creations’ own Shannon Rich

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So the other day I promised a big announcement–I hope you are ready. I, the one and only Justin Cox and owner/founder/chief author of Lone Palm Creations have made it big time. I have made the jump from online media to print media. So if you all will procure yourself a copy of the New York Times… oh wait, no, that’s next year. But you do have to start somewhere. It’s currently just after one in the morning here in Florida and as I type this, an article I wrote is being printed in millions of copies of the Orlando Sentinel–the local paper for, you guessed it, Orlando. If you can’t see through my sarcastic humor, I am pretty excited. And this is only the beginning. I’m going to continue to write and hopefully, continue to be published until one day, yes one day I too can embellish facts and invent stories like a real journalist–or something like that. Maybe. Anyway, enough bantering. Below is the article that one day will be known as “the one that started it all.” Enjoy it. Oh yeah, and if you don’t believe me, here’s the link to the article at the Sentinel’s web site: Orlando Sentinel

“When College is Easy”
Originally printed in The Orlando Sentinel on Saturday, November 15th, 2003:

In high school all the teachers would say “you better shape up, because college is much tougher then you may think.” Well, I’m currently in my third year of college and I have to disagree. Granted, I have taken some challenging courses while up here, though, for the most part college has been easy.

One of the biggest problems is horrible professors–or more often then not grad students posing as professors. Case in point, last semester I took meteorology being taught by a grad student. He cared more about what we thought of him then the weather and as a result I have no idea what low barometric pressure means but I can make one hell of a hurricane chart. I’m currently taking a law class from a professor who will remain nameless–though does hold a pretty prominent state-government job and looks a lot like George Costanza when he tries on the toupee. This professor, after giving us our first test, disappeared from the face of the planet for not one, not two, but THREE weeks! How am I, a diligent young college student, supposed to learn anything when the professor doesn’t even want to show up to class?

Another problem with today’s college scene is some of the tests–they don’t test students’ knowledge, they test our memories. I’m currently in a class where both questions and answers to twenty five percent of each test are handed out beforehand by the professor. The only catch is that you memorize the answer and write them, neatly, word for word with the proper spelling (which is actually a problem for me because I cannot spell for ship–see, what did I tell you?).

This is not to say, however, that all of my college courses are this easy. I do have some that are quite difficult, where you actually have to think, not to mention dodge the occasional eraser the professor throws when wrong answers are given in class. But this all does lead me to wonder, is college necessary for success? Quentin Tarantino dropped out of the ninth grade. Bill Gates did pretty well for quitting college as did Ashton Kutcher, though I wouldn’t say he’s done anything substantial in his life, except maybe Demi Moore.

But I digress. The point is that college is obviously not challenging us enough. I mean, if it were I wouldn’t be writing this article at four in the morning. Instead I would be studying or sleeping soundly, my mind contently filled with quantum physics or something like that. But until that happens, I’ll make the most of my eraser throwing professors who hand out grades–when they actually come to class.

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Most of you know who I am, for those that don’t, I’m sorry, sucks for you. After an invitation to write for Lone Palm quite a while ago, I have finally gotten off my lazy ass and actually written something. Since the topic of movies is common to this website I thought I might as well continue that by just giving a brief chronicle of what I have been up to.

Once again I am in the great state of California. To be more exact I am in the great city of Los Angeles. To be even more specific, I am living in Westwood, which is in Beverly Hills and right next to UCLA, living with two girls for the summer! The rest of my time will be spent laboring for a production company called Form Productions. This company makes commercials, many of which you have probably seen. These commercials range from Snickers, Dell, Kellogg, Clairol and Victoria Secrets. And yes, I will try to weasel my way in any way I can if they shoot another Victoria Secrets commercial. But most of my day consists of arid activities that aren’t glamorous. These activities might include that making sure all the conference rooms are neat, taking out the trash and any other task that they can think of. The better part of a day consists of working in the vault, the place where they keep all the director reels and any other tapes, or running errands. The vault can be a relaxing place to be but it tricks you into thinking that. By being in the vault you don’t have to be bothered with everyone else in the building unless they come to you. But the responsibilities are great and if you can’t get it done you’ll just be fired. There are 3 main representatives that we send the directors reels to. One in New York, one in Chicago and the other is out here in LA. Each rep needs to have the reels for the directors they represent, sometimes they want custom reels, but when most importantly they need to have the reels when they need them or else problems can arise. If a rep doesn’t have a reel and they’re trying to get a job and they can’t show it to the client, the client might just decide to go with another company, and if that happened because you didn’t get the reel to them on time, that means you just cost the company around $300,000 probably. That’s about the price it takes to make a commercial that will be on air for 30 seconds. And believe me, people in this business hate to lose money. You can tell that by how ridiculous the life style is in Beverly Hills. Then I also run tapes or packages to other companies, which isn’t bad. This lets me catch up with new music and learn the city. But I started thinking, am I really learning the city when it takes me 30 minutes to go 8 miles? Probably not, but what the hell, it gets me out.

So there you go, a brief description of what I’ll be up to this summer, and then a week off and back to school again around mid September, and fate is just laughing at all of it.

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The long and short of it, the concert was very wet and muddy. Got to love the outdoor shows. A full set list will be added to the Buffett portion of my site when I feel like doing so. It wasn’t the best concert I’ve been to. I was glad to see that Jimmy played some stuff that he usually doesn’t, I enjoy that stuff more. Yes I’m a Parrothead but no I don’t cream myself every time I hear a song off Songs You Know By Heart. I’d rather hear him play “The Wino and I Know” or “That’s What Living is to Me” or “We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us About.” But, it seems like anyone that goes to the concerts anymore have only heard the songs Buffett has on Songs You Know By Heart which is all fine and dandy, but when it comes to other songs that they cant sing along to in a drunken stupor they then talk to their friends and ignore the concert. This again, is all fine and dandy but that prevents the true fans that are there to hear Buffett play, i.e. me, from actually hearing Bubba sing. During this concert I felt something I had never felt at a Buffett concert before, and that was detest. Namely because the one part of Jimmy’s show that I look forward to every year is his acoustic set. I love it because he plays songs that I love and they just sound wonderful acoustically. However this year I didn’t get to enjoy the acoustic set because of the people talking and gallivanting around the lawn section of the concert. I also did another thing that I hadn’t done at a Buffett concert before, and that was leave before the encores. I said at the time it was to beat the traffic as we were in dire need of gas, but I really didn’t want to stick around because I wasn’t going to enjoy them. I kick myself now of course seeing that Jimmy played “Southern Cross” as well as “Pacing the Cage” which I absolutely love, but, that’s the way it goes I guess. The only true saving grace amongst the mud and noise was that after trekking across THE ENTIRE mud covered concert venue in an effort to get closer to where we parked, I ran into Casey who promptly ran up to me which pretty much made my night. If it hadn’t been for her, I probably would have left the concert pretty pissed off and disappointed. So thank you Casey, you made my day, as you do every time I see you. After the concert we went back to my aunt’s where I slept more soundly then I have in weeks.

The next morning we got up and headed down to Orlando. Thankfully the 500 mile drive only took around six and a half hours. To recap I had traveled roughly 750 miles within a 24 hour period. And the weekend was just starting.

In Orlando I had friends from Tallahassee come into town to visit for Easter. Friday night we met up with Earl and Jessica which is always fun. We played Pictionary and joked around till late at night. The next day, we’re now to Saturday, led to Islands of Adventure.

My friends from school all went to the wonderful place known as IOA by us local freaks and had a great time. Lines weren’t horrible and the rides, as always were lots of fun. Every time I ride it, I can’t help but think of how cool the Spider-Man ride is. It’s probably the best ride ever. The day at the park was great. It was made even better because Ryan’s uncle got us all tickets. He came with us and was really a nice guy. This is a big thank you to Ryan’s uncle. After IOA came a well welcomed dinner and the movie Pumpkin which is, to say the least, interesting.

Then came Sunday, Easter Sunday. I went to church–both services–as I do on all “big occasion” Sundays though this time was accompanied by my friends from school. The services were, well, not great. The sermon was horrible and I had the pleasure of hearing it twice. If only our assistant pastor would be given the chance to speak because he is a lot more entertaining that our senior pastor–who thankfully will be leaving in June. At least our church’s Easter tradition of singing the Hallelujah Chorus was upheld. It sounded wonderful.

After church came the Easter festivities. This involved Easter egg hunting, badminton playing, and of course, lots and lots of eating — and some picture taking. Always love the Easter festivities. Then came the ride home.

Now it’s back to reality. The fun is over. I found out that I completely failed my finance test from last week and now passing the entire class could be in jeopardy. Returning to Tallahassee has brought me back to some situations I am tired of dealing with as well as opened me up to more that I have to deal with. Regardless of the situation, the test grades and what not, I always end up getting screwed in the end. But, c’est la vie, that’s life right? Emerson once wrote that “every sweet has it’s sour; every evil it’s good” which was so wonderfully retold in Vanilla Sky. I guess I’m tasting the sour right now. Hopefully the summer, which is now less than two weeks away, will bring something really sweet my way. And to think, I only have to get through five finals first!

Well that’s that. I know this article is a little drab but you gotta write about what you know right? At least that’s what Mark Twain once said. Mr. Twain also wrote the words that inspired Buffett’s “That’s What Living is to Me” that goes: “Be good and you will be lonesome/Be lonesome and you will be free/Live a lie, and you will live to regret it/That’s what living is to me.” Well, sometimes, that is what living is to me. Until next time.

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During the summer after high school graduation, after watching a Girls Gone Wild with my now ex-boyfriend (What? Who said I actually paid attention?) he made the prediction that when I got to college, I would break up with him, join a sorority, and turn into someone just like the girls in the video. Well, it took another year before we finally broke up, and another few months after that before I even tried to join a sorority. But, everything happens for a reason.

At first I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to join a sorority because, after being on campus for a year, I was well aware of all the stupid stereotypes. But I had friends, and two cousins, in all different sororities, and that helped me keep things in persepective. There were two girls who lived in my hall and were in the same sorority, and yet they both had completely different personalities. Neither of them could have been stereotyped into the sorority they were in. Just as everything else in life, there are always exceptions to every rule. It’s impossible to get a group of anywhere from 40 to 200 girls and expect them all to be the same. Every sorority has stereotypes and granted, there is probably some small reason for them, like maybe a couple girls in each one actually fit the stereotype. But people are always surprised when they talk to a girl from one sorority or another who was totally not what they expected before meeting her. On bid day, when I found out which sorority I was going to be in, I was upset because I didn’t like the reputation/stereotype of the girls, even though I obviously didn’t know any of them personally. That night, one of my friends gave me some very wise advice: “Don’t not join a sorority because of it’s ‘bad letters’ or the fact that you don’t want people to label you. If you can picture yourself being friends with the girls, stick with it. Do it for you, and nobody else.” So I did!

Being in a sorority has given me so much. Yes, I have had a lot of fun (and no I have not been on Girls Gone Wild nor do I foresee it in the future!). But even more importantly, I have met amazing and inspiring women of all ages, I have become more independent, I have sharpened leadership skills, I have learned how to work and live with all kinds of people, I have become involved in something that means a lot to me, I always have someone to call and do something with if I am bored (God forbid I ever have the time to be bored), and I’m not doing it for anyone else. I’m not trying to impress other people, I’m simply doing what makes me happy. Not everybody has had the same experience as I have. But I put my all into it, and got back ten times as much.

Of course, it is not always all fun and games. There have been times when I’ve been disappointed in people, when people have gotten on my nerves, when people have made me feel bad because they thought I wasn’t doing my job correctly (even though I was!), when I’ve had to write 30 thank-you notes by hand… but none of it has been so great as to deter my intentions. There have also been times when I have been brought to tears because it was all just so overwhelmingly beautiful. There are conflicts, just like every house. It’s kind of like “The Real World” without boys. But it’s not so much like “Sorority Life” because those girls can be really bitchy and they like to talk smack about the pledges and we don’t do that! There is absolutely no hazing either. Our national headquarters will give us major trouble if anyone is made to do anything that makes them uncomfortable, including being blindfolded, or dropped off in the woods or a graveyard, or being forced to get really drunk. My sorority takes it really seriously if anyone is caught trying to haze.

And there are no naked pillow fights either! (sorry Justin!)

And no, I do not pay for my friends! I pay so that I have a huge, beautiful house where I can go anytime I want, sit on the big comfy couch and watch a movie on the big screen TV, even spend the night if I wanted to get away from my roomate (even though I love her!). I pay so that I can be served breakfast, lunch, and dinner 6 days a week. I pay so that we can have a House Mom who is the kindest woman I have ever met and would do anything to keep us safe and happy! I pay so that I can participate in really fun philanthropies for all the other sororities and fraternities on campus. I pay so that we can have really cool sisterhood events (we rented out a movie theater in honor of Founder’s Day and saw Sweet Home Alabama with our alumnae). I pay so that we can rent out all sorts of venues for our socials and date functions. Our Sapphire Ball (formal) is going to be on a dinner cruise in Jacksonville, how cool is that? All I need now is a date!

So that’s that. I love my sorority, and I still have many close friends outside of my sisters, but I wouldn’t give it up for the world! I haven’t changed for any worse, I haven’t been “brainwashed” to look, act, or think a certain way. In fact, I’m even more open minded than I used to be. Remember, you can never judge a book by it’s cover!

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