Socks with Sandals, Ya'll

I got up one morning and glanced at my clock to see that it was 7:40 am, I was immediately hurled into an exhausted yet frazzled state. To make it to my 8 am I hurriedly got dressed and threw on some socks and knock off Birkenstocks ($30 instead of $130, I consider myself a pro bargain shopper) because in my semi consciousness I determined that the few seconds it would take to tie my sneakers were a few seconds that I could not spare. Socks and "Birks" is a completely normal choice of footwear back home; however, I seemed to be the only one on campus to rock the sock/sandal combination. I proudly represented the "granola" style and didn't change my shoes to conform to what the general population was wearing. After recognizing that something so basic and common back in Oklahoma wasn't really practiced here, I realized that this was just one of many trends that failed to survive the 1,194.5 miles from my hometown of Stillwater, Oklahoma to State College, Pennsylvania.

Here are a few examples...

Jandals

You read that correctly, the term you get by blending "Jesus" and "sandals." These inexpensive rubber beauties are a staple back in Oklahoma. They may not be cute, but they are definitely comfortable. I suppose they must be conventional and inexpensive for their actual purpose (surprisingly, their true purpose has nothing to do with helping the average person dress like Jesus), Jandals are actually Pali Hawaiian Sandals, designed to "draw the line between work and play in the sand" for the people of Hawaii. I'm sure that the intended consumers were certainly not Oklahomans, but somehow these sandals seem to be a necessity back home. 

Chacos

I've caught a few individuals parading around campus in their Chacos; however, the population is just a small fraction of those you would see wearing them in my hometown. Our love of Chacos defies the seasonal constraints of when they would be appropriate, so to make them suitable footwear for all seasons, again, we go for the socks/sandal combination ~ this time commonly referred to as "Sock-Os."

Dressing up for football games

Most Saturdays my social media is flooded by my friends at southern universities at football games. They all meticulously picked out the perfect outfits, utilizing their school colors and still managing to look fabulous in orange and black (Oklahoma State's colors). In the south, it seems that people take advantage of every opportunity to be stylish, including football games. It seems like to Penn Staters, adorned in cut t shirts and shorts for games, this is a ridiculous idea. Honestly, growing up where looking nice for games was normal makes me a little jealous of my friends back home, I mean just think of all of the classy photo opportunities. 

Oversized t-shirts

I have a very petite frame at only 5'2" but that does not stop me from ordering medium t shirts, even though smalls are slightly big on me. I was entirely oblivious that this was abnormal here until I was wearing a big comfy t-shirt and my friend asked "were they out of smalls?" I paused for a second and explained that I was just prioritizing comfort over appearance and I loved my big t-shirts. Her response was simply "okay, it must be a southern thing."

On the other hand...

Conservative clothes

When did it become okay to "flaunt what you've got" all the time? Even to class?? I believe that being raised in Oklahoma instilled a sense of modesty in me from a young age. Because of this I am in awe of some clothing choices I see at Penn State. Going out at night is one thing, but going to class is entirely different. I implore you to please refrain from wearing crop tops to class and for the love of all that is good and holy, make sure that your butt is tucked into your shorts.

Picture credits to
Pali Sandals
Chaco
and my friends Teryn and Trini 

The Search for Aspen

Going so far away from home I had to leave a lot of things behind: my family, my friends, and my dog (which was a really depressing farewell). I lived in Stillwater, Oklahoma for all eighteen years of my life so it is all I know as home. I found comfort and security in all of the quaint features such as locations and people. Outside of my actual house, one place in particular felt exceptionally "homey." My home away from home was a trendy coffee shop called Aspen.

Aspen is a is a hidden gem of my hometown. It started out as just one rustic coffee shop in the heart of our old southern styled downtown, and because of it's overwhelming popularity and success, Aspen has expanded to three different store fronts, affectionately referred to as
Hipster-spen: the original downtown location
Mom-spen: the calmest location situation in a little shopping center
and
Frat-spen: the newest location constantly swamped by college students

In highschool, whenever my friends and I would get together, it was never "whose house should we go to?" but "which Aspen should we go to?"
While we were at Aspen the minutes turned to hours, and before we knew it we had spent the day casually drinking granitas (the best frappuccino you will ever have) and blended chais (essentially Christmas in a cup). Because of the endless amount of time spent at Aspen, it fosters some of my favorite memories.

When I walk into Aspen at home, I am immediately immersed in a sense of comfort, and I am basically guaranteed to see a familiar face. In my mission to make State College feel like home, I am searching for an Aspen substitute and to put it bluntly, it is not going well.

Starbucks seems like the place to go here, but I refuse to conform. With one look at me and at my background people assume that I am the preppy stereotypical cheerleader type, and I do not need to walk around with Starbucks in hand to help fuel the validity of the assumptions. By the way, I may have been a cheerleader, but I proudly defy the stereotypes.

Starbucks is housed directly in the middle of the mainstream, if you will. To find a more sufficient Aspen equivalent I opted to try a slightly more obscure place and discovered Saint's Cafe. I loved how cozy the small coffeeshop was but there was one issue which I couldn't handle-it was completely silent. I looked around and saw that everyone appeared to be the "hipster type" and was furiously working in the absence of noise. At Aspen there is always a low buzz of comfortable conversation and chill music. Again, I had made an attempt and failed. 

The search continued for my safe haven of a coffee shop until finally I realized that that was not what would make Penn State feel like home. I needed to stop assuming that I would have an Aspen equivalent to escape whatever uncertainties or second guesses I was having at college. My perfect place wasn't preexisting, already waiting for me; instead, it is my duty to sculpt it. I need to put forth effort to get what I want for a college experience and that rests in the people. It may be a slow process, but I'm building a new sense of community with some outstanding people. It may not be what I was expecting, but my friends are my little piece of comfort, not a coffee shop. 

An Ode to Oklahoma!

Being serenaded by complete strangers would make for an interesting situation, and believe me, it most definitely does. It seems that about half of my first encounters with individuals outside of the classroom somehow incorporate a musical number, or at least an attempt at one.

"OOOOOklahoma, where the wind comes...uhh...."

I suppose that if State College was the setting for a legitimate live-action musical I would complete the phrase with "sweeping down plains." However, despite the musicality of the moment, life at Penn State is a lot of things other than one big musical production. The awkwardness enveloping the situation induces one response: an uncomfortable giggle and a change of topic.

Initially I thought that this was people's attempt to make a memorable first impression; however, upon farther analysis I realized that this was evidence of people's natural love for speaking on a topic they are knowledgeable about. The only "facts" that they know are derived from the iconic 1955 musical, so as soon as they know that I am from Oklahoma, their logical "factual" contribution to the conversation seems to inevitably consist of the only musical line from the show they all know.

Oklahoma! has five well known pieces composed by the one and only Hammerstein. Although these songs are catchy and you will inevitably be caught tapping your toes to the rhythms, they truly are not relevant to contemporary Oklahoma and here is why...



"Oklahoma"

This is the quintessential centerpiece of the musical; however, by simply listening to the first verse it is (hopefully) immediately apparent that this is not the same state in which I was born and raised. Personally, I have only encountered the terms "pertaters" and "termaters" while lightheartedly embracing the entirely false stereotypes this musical has cursed us with.

  
"Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'"

This piece paints a picture of Oklahoma as a landscape entirely composed of livestock and corn. Contrary to this, the moment I walk out of my house I am not met with vast fields and cows. In fact, my hometown of Stillwater, Oklahoma is advanced enough to have three McDonald's (WOW) and two Wal-Marts (Oh my)!

 
"I Cain't Say No"

The lyrics go "I'm just a girl who cain't say no," but personally I am in fact female and I can definitely say no. This piece displays a southern floozy wooed by the southern charm of numerous gentlemen who enter her life. I am not going to say that Oklahoma is immune to individuals excelling in the area of promiscuity; however, I can promise that their experiences starkly contrast the accounts of Ado Annie in this song. Additionally-- who on earth says "cain't"??

 
"The Surrey with the Fringe on Top"

This song's lack of relevance to modern Oklahoma is exemplified by my own action: I had to look up what a surrey is. In case you were wondering, it is a a little two-seated carriage- thanks Google.
 
 
"The Farmer and the Cowman"

Perhaps this is the piece that creates the most inaccurate ideas of the persona of Oklahomans. The title itself labels us all as "farmers and cowmen," but if you speak with me, even briefly, I hope that you recognize that I have more to offer than the simpleminded southerners depicted in Oklahoma!

"Where is Oklahoma Anyway?"

Let me begin my blog with an apology...
I am sorry that I am not what you expected.

As a freshman, I have engaged in copious amounts of small talk. Each conversation begins with the general "what is your name?" and "how are you adjusting to college?" Once the question "where are you from?" is asked, people are always caught off guard by my response. They often look at me in awe as though I had completely obliterated their preconceived image of an Oklahoman. In all honesty, I am not really sure what they expected. I almost feel guilty for being an apparently poor representative of my state; I do not live in a tipi, have a heavy accent, ride a horse to school, or live on a farm. It seems that people fail to recognize that at the root of our beings, we are all essentially the same.

Since I have arrived in State College, nearly every day I am met with a new person who contributes to my collection of strange inquiries. All eighteen years of my existence have been in Oklahoma, so the realization that southern living is not common knowledge is somewhat baffling to me. Because the questions never fail to add humor and astonishment to my life, I have retained a mental list of some of my favorite questions that I have been asked so far.

"So... if you're from Oklahoma, what are you doing here?"
The answer to this question is simple: exactly what you're doing. I come from a line of Penn Staters. My parents both came here, as well as my father's siblings and his father. I had not intended to carry on the university legacy until I received my acceptance into the Schreyer's Honors College. I recognized that my education with SHC would offer me boundless opportunities, far surpassing anything I could find back home.

"WOW! What's Oklahoma like?"
One word: flat.

"Is it super hot there all the time?"
We are lucky enough to experience all four seasons, but I am in no way prepared for when this becomes a not-so-happy valley and I fear of contracting hypothermia while walking to class. At home we rarely have show, so when those sculpted white flakes fall from the sky, the town ceases to function. The grocery store is sold out of bread, milk, and eggs. To the outsider it would probably look like we were bracing for an apocalypse or nuclear warfare.

"Do you see a lot of tumbleweeds?"
Actually, we do. This just might be the only stereotype that I can confirm. It is a completely normal sighting to see a tumbleweed casually rolling across the street doing its own thing, whatever that may be.

"How many acres do you live on?"
This question I really wasn't prepared for. I suppose that between the moment I told a new friend that I was from Oklahoma he mentally jumped to the assumption that I lived on a farm and therefore must own a lot of land. Although many people do live on vast plots, I am in the middle of a residential area right off of Oklahoma State University's campus, so even if my family felt called to abandon our lives and pursue farming, it is geographically impossible in our current location. Again, sorry to disappoint with my normalcy.

"Where is Oklahoma anyway??"
This is certainly the question that I am asked far more frequently than any other, and each time it never fails to shock me. The best way that I can answer this is by countering with the question "do you know where Texas is?" while attempting to stifle my disappointment in Penn State's lack of geographical understanding of the United States. If they respond with a yes, I can easily inform them that my obscure, pan-shaped state, sits right above it; however, if they respond no (believe it or not, it's happened), then I wish them the best in life and just walk away.