OFFICE HOUR Monday 10-11am
MAJOR(S) English, Philosophy, Communication Arts and Sciences
FAVORITE FICTIONAL ATTORNEY Himself #LoveYourselfFirst
BIO You're lining up to bowl. You need this strike, and you feel confident. You stare down the pins, squinting your eyes slightly so they know how serious you are. You breath out. Right foot forward. Left foot forward. Right again as you draw the ball back. You step forward with your left foot as the ball swing forward. Your right knee drops back and your right hand twists slightly on the release. All around, a fabulous release. It's no Pete Weber, but you're pretty sure it'll do the job. The ball rolls down the right side of the lane before the spin catches. It rockets right toward the pocket, curving beautifully into the one and three pins. The ball hits. The pins explode. You're about to celebrate until you see it. One pin lingering. The ten pin. You're livid. The shot was perfect. It had the speed--at least 15.5 mph--and it hit the pocket on a curve like a pro. But the ten pin remains. It's an easy spare, and you hit it wonderfully. Still, you're pissed at that ten pin. The pin that wouldn't cooperate. I am not the ten pin. I'm the pin that's responsible. I'm the pin that was supposed to hit into the ten pin and give you the strike you deserved. But you don't think about me, and you don't blame me. You just stare down the ten pin as I silently disappear, failing to do what you wanted me to do. You get your spare, but I cost you the strike. I am the six pin.