Tag: personal narratives

The Bursley Pirate Ship: FLOOD EDITION

Arushi Singh 1 Comment
The crime scene
New body of water just dropped

PIRATE SHIP FACT: Even medieval pirate ships had drainage systems to disperse the effects of ship flooding (the Middle Ages started around 476 A. D. for reference).

I started this blog with a metaphor. I did not mean to manifest the symbolism.

Last Thursday marked Bursley Hall’s brief run as the Ann Arbor Kalahari. After a pipe broke on the fifth floor of Sanford House, the four floors below became aquatic as well, with over half of each hall experiencing flooding from under their doors and walls. The building was evacuated at around 1 AM while campus officers dealt with the damage.

I was sitting the CLC when the fire alarm went off. This is terrible to publish publicly, but I was quite ready to sit out the alarm. It’s a testament to my lack of self preservation, but the chance that the smoke isn’t just from someone microwaving their popcorn for forty-five minutes is very slim at this point. Thankfully, someone with much better senses burst into the CLC and yelled “there’s BLACK WATER filling the hallway we gotta go right-“

Even I got that cue.

We quickly grabbed our belongings (because I’d rather drown than tell my parents I need a new computer) and headed towards Baits. As my friends and I passed Bursley on our walk, the steam we saw on the windows was cruel foreshadowing.

I remember laughing in Baits with everyone about how we should go do laps, a hall toilet was revolting, etc. Baits filled with confused Bursley kids till 1:30 am. While looking for positives, the Bursley residents looked around and found hope in the statement “at least we don’t live here.”

The second statement that was fueling me was “well it can’t be my hall.” Then my friend got a text from a source near the building.

We ran back to Bursley, swiped in probably twenty times cause the card reader was feeling needy, and ran to my roommate and I’s dorm. I looked across the floor and girls were already dumping their wet items into the hall. There was a pool of water at the center of the floor that everyone was hopping over like it was their 9 to 5, exhausted faces all around. The girls on my floor were already over it, and it had just begun.

After clearing out our belongings

I threw my door open to find the entire back flooded. Our fridge was swimming in a couple inches of water while the microwave and coffee machine were getting showered by the water pouring in from the window. Thankfully, I am surrounded by people who are way too nice who helped my roommate and I sort through our drenched belongings.

When I tucked myself into my friend’s couch (which was actually really comfortable), it was around 4 am. We later learned that a pipe broke on the fifth floor when two boys were playing football, and accidentally hit a sprinkler. Either Tom Brady reenrolled and got housed here to study musical theatre at the drama center, or Bursley is the only building in history with paper piping. Not only do we live in the woods, but now we live near the lake.

They offered us temporary housing in Stockwell, which I believe is one of the nicest dorms on campus. So from our perspective it’s like our decaying cabin in the woods got destroyed, but then the landlord for our cabin decided to give us keys to their penthouse, only to snatch it away in about a week. This is a university sponsored space so I do want to mention (for nuance) that yes yes, this is an accidental and isolated situation. I’ll ponder this more from the Qdoba in the West Quad basement.

At least this album cover came out of it.

Bursakopia

From the Sanford House lazy river while sipping dining hall apple juice on a flamingo floaty,

Captain Singh

The Truth About Stories

Hannah Levine Leave a comment

This gif shows Disney's Belle slide on a book store ladder from one side of a bookshelf to another.

I never thought I’d like reading stories about other people’s lives. Fiction was fine, but reality seemed boring and uneventful. When I was younger, my mom read The Little House on the Prairie series to me, but that was about as close as I got to reading a book about a real person. It wasn’t until later that I realized the beauty of someone else’s story.

The first memoir I read on my own was written by a teacher I used to have. The book was called Signs of Life, and for a while everyone in my school was reading it. I remember getting calls from other students asking me what chapter I was on or whether or not I had finished yet. I attended readings with friends at the local Borders (*wipes tear away*). We talked about how impressive it was to know an author, to know a real person who had successfully published a book. I thought it was special to be let in on a story like that, but I assumed my real admiration for the book was due to the fact that I knew the author.

Then, another teacher of mine proved me wrong. He suggested that I read The Year of Magical Thinking and Bone Black: Memoirs of Girlhood. I was hesitant to take on a memoir written by someone I didn’t know, but two memoirs? Two stranger’s lives? That was downright scary. I didn’t care about those authors. I didn’t want to know their stories. What could have happened in their lives to warrant my attention? Well, after finishing both of those memoirs, I realized my answer. What could have happened in their lives? A lot. Why should I care about their stories? They’re great stories.

Since then, I’ve read many books about other people’s lives. I find myself going to the bookstore and perusing aisles I never thought I’d wander into. I still think it can be hard to be interested in a complete stranger’s life, but I take baby steps. I read books that contain an element of memoir, personal narrative, nonfiction, or autobiography. Sometimes it can be hard to know where these books fall, but if I’m not sure, I just try to read them and not to worry about it. Many books walk a fine line, but that doesn’t mean one is necessarily better than another.

So, some days I’ll pick up a book that can’t be defined very well. Other days I’ll try something that can. I’ve read David Sedaris’s Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim to experience a bit of his life. Currently, I’m reading Modern Romance, and its combination of social science, humor, and nonfiction makes it really accessible and fun to read. I read books by authors who, for whatever reason, I can pretend I know a little. I read Amy Poehler’s, Yes Please, because I had watched Parks and Recreation for years. I read one of my favorite YouTube star Tyler Oakley’s memoir, Binge, because I’d seen him online and it was cool he was from Michigan. These little connections helped me care more, but I’m realizing I don’t need them as much as I used to. Maybe not now, but soon I’ll feel confident enough to read I Am Malala, Unbroken, or some other critically acclaimed memoir or personal narrative that has been hovering at the top of my Goodreads list for months.

I’m excited, because I know one thing very important: everyone has a story.