Glowsticks for Jesus

I was standing in the HUB on Saturday night when I saw them: girls dressed in colorful kimonos and holding shiny fans.

I didn't have tickets to see Charlie Murphy that night and I was planning on waiting by the door to see if someone with a ticket didn't show up. But being the sucker for bright, flashy objects that I am, I had to check these girls out first.

Something seemed a little funny when I stepped into Alumni Hall for what I discovered was "Dynamic Korea - a Cultural Variety Show." Maybe it was the neon-green programs. Maybe it was the calculating efficiency with which one of the kimono girls ushered me to a seat, using her fan like a glowing airplane-guiding baton.

But as I examined the program in the minutes before the program started, I realized what was giving me the weird vibe. This wasn't just any variety show. This was a Jesus variety show.

The events certainly looked exciting: a glow-stick performance, a rock performance of the Korean Anthem, a Taekwondo demonstration, a fan dance and a performance by Eliot Chang, a comedian and Asian activist. And something called "Neo Crusade Go."

But with the show co-sponsored by the Korean Students for Christ, some of the events had a interesting religious twist. For instance, the description of the glow-stick performance didn't mention raves or even shiny lights. It was all about "spreading the love of the Lord" in the Dominican Republic. Maybe they have a lot of glowsticks down there.

Then I started reading about "Neo Crusade Go." The description talked about the "torrent of socio-religious relations among Christians and non-Christians," and Christianity's messages to the general public. "This is not an attack to those who are non-Christians, but more of an outreach to those who have not yet heard the news so they may be saved," it read.

OK, it sounded gentle enough. But farther along the program read: "we feel it is essential to remind the world that without the Lord, there is only eternal damnation ready to clasp us with its decrepit claws."

Woah. Time to make a run for Charlie Murphy. I quickly looked to both sides and then casually walked out, trying to ignore the suspicious stares from the kimono ladies. Fortunately they let me go, and soon I was back in the loving embrace of the world's decrepit claws.

I made it into Charlie Murphy's performance, but a part of me is still a little sad. Now I may never know: WGWJU - What glowsticks would Jesus use?

On the Prowl

While volunteering with Habitat for Humanity over spring break, I quickly learned to avoid Alabama's flying nails, power tool injuries, alligator attacks, rouge fishing hooks, and bad drivers. But the most fearful, and yet, most intriguing danger in Alabama, is the cougar.

I first learned of this legendary species while riding along in the back of a pickup truck (quite a common site in Alabama). One of my friends asked the group what they thought of the cougar he had just seen. But we were in the middle of town, and I didn't see any wild animals around.

The cougar he was referring to was not a wild animal. It's a particular type of person -- an older woman seeking a younger man. The origin of the term is unclear, but Urbandictionary.com notes a commonality between the animal species and the woman: "Man is cougar's number one prey." It adds, "The cougar can frequently be seen in a padded bra, cleavage exposed, propped up against a swanky bar in San Francisco (or other cities) waiting, watching, calculating; gearing up to sink her claws into an innocent young and strapping buck who happens to cross her path."

The term caught on with my group really quickly. At times, it seemed like the trip had turned into a cougar hunt. We spotted them in town, on the road, on television and at the beach.

I also learned the fine points of cougar identification, like how to separate the animal from the traditional MILF, slang for an attractive mother. While the MILF might just be admired from afar, the cougar is always "on the prowl," searching for her next Mrs. Robinson-style attack. There's also no requirement that a cougar be a mother or married. However, the consensus was that an "off-the-market" (perhaps 'poached' would be the term?) cougar was definitely worth more trophy points.

I thought this was all fun and games until the late night ride back to Penn State. It was then that one of the group members confessed that he had been the subject of a cougar attack -- and not just a random pouncing. This cougar came back three times to feed again. Plus she took his hat afterwards.

He said the cougar hunt was exciting at first, but it quickly became awkward, especially among his friends. He's trying to wean himself away right now, but a jealous cougar is more possessive than a grizzly bear with cubs.

So while I did learn a lot about construction, the South and life over spring break, I think I'll stick to admiring this animal from afar.

Feeling the deepness

There's nothing like poetry to jazz up a weekend at home.

While the rest of State College was reveling in the joys of "State Patty's Day," I was home this weekend to catch up on some sleep and homework. Well, I tried to tried to catch up on sleep and homework. I actually watched a lot of On Demand movies.

However, after an emotional viewing of Titanic, On the Beach, and Attack of the Clones, I put aside my remote Saturday night to attend a classical music concert where my brother was playing his bassoon.

As I rode downtown, though, I started to get a little nervous – where was I going to get something exciting to write about for nightlife blog? I had already blown Friday night watching movies and a classical music concert didn't sound like it was going to be terribly exciting to a college audience.

As the concert began, my fears seemed to be confirmed. Nothing out of the ordinary in this mix of dedicated students, proud parents, and rich benefactors.

But then the emo-kid walked onto stage.

Normally, it's not unusual to find an emotional, dark-clothes-loving kid among a batch of adolescents. But at a classical music concert, where everyone else had trimmed hair and bright eyes, the guy stood out with his dark clothes, penetrating eyes, and long, dark hair, streaked with highlights.

The other students in his quartet settled into their chairs as the emo-kid stood up and announced that the group would be performing a piece he wrote while working as a parking attendant in Ocean City, New Jersey. (Note to self: Tip extra next time at the beach – he could be the next Beethoven.) Emo-kid explained that the his piece was inspired by the children and ferris wheels at carnivals and the "loss of innocence" that we all experience.

He also announced that he had written two poems to go with his music. He began by describing the "wheel of electric fire," then moved on to the child's eyes: "searching for nothing and finding everything." Then he moved to the landscape: "Behind the heat of modern chaos, the ocean copulates with the stars."

By the time he was finished, I was starting to feel really moved. I felt like turning to the old people on my right and saying "Don't fight the deepness." And I almost wanted to go copulate with some stars myself.

I caught up with the guy after the concert and asked him if he actually wrote the music on the job. He said no – that he usually thought it up at work and wrote it down later – a "very disorganized composition process." I complimented him and my parents took a picture just in case he hit it big.