The Beginning/Cookies

First of all, what do I mean by "the beginning?" Well, it's not actually the beginning, but I will explain anyway. I've always been a writer. I remember writing little things down in my journal - plays, short stories, etc. I even found a short story about my best friend moving to the "country," relating to a period in my life that I found absolutely devastating. (I mean, Emily would have to go to a different school, we wouldn't be able to walk home together, we'd have different teachers, etc.) Anyway, somewhere along the line I decided to be a doctor (because that's what smart people do, right?) and gave up on any type of writing and reading - unless it was my good old chemistry book. OH how I missed it! I would read here and there, but I was never able to immerse myself completely. Well, I've finally accepted my fate and turned back to the world of humanities. Thus, this is the "beginning" of a beginning that really started a long time ago. I've heard that to write, you have to... write. My attempt will be then to write every day, and hopefully come up with some kind of salvageable material to put into a literary form eventually.

And, you might be asking also, where are the cookies? On Monday, I made cookies for a friend of mine that was taking an extremely painful organic chemistry test (not that it was necessarily painful for him... that's just my memory of the whole experience). The testing process is a painful one in and of itself, as there is an entire center dedicated solely to testing. Yes, the only reason you go to this center is to be tortur... er... tested. Well, the cherry on top is that when you walk out, there's this screen of death where you immediately know your score on the test. The best days are when you walk out and get a comment next to your score such as "Great Job!" or "Awesome!" Most days, at least in the pre-medical days, I didn't have the privilege of seeing those blessed words. I had colleagues that would even zoom past the screen of death without looking, to avoid the pain.

The point is, however, that you have to go down a stairway and through a door to get to the screen of death. At the end of the stairway, there is a little window well where people will often leave little notes of encouragement for those about to face the screen of death. I believe it's everyone's dream to walk out and see their name on a little note, a last bit of hope before the fire. Thus I came up with the idea to leave cookies, and a note, for Louis. "He'll be so excited!" I thought. And once I get it in my head to do something, I have to do it - so it was done. The next day the cookies were placed strategically with a note and everything. The setup could not have been more perfect.

The day goes by, poor Louis spends 4 1/2 hours in the testing center, and I get a text from him finally saying, "I made it! Thanks for the note!" The note... okay... maybe the cookies weren't as tasty as I thought... or, better yet, did he not get them? "Wait..." I text him back, "you got the cookies, right?"

"No, but I'll go get them now."

What could have happened? The cookies were clearly marked for him, and clearly delicious - wherein then would the problem lie? I suppose you're thinking, "Of course someone stole the cookies." Sure. But here at BYU we have this thing called the "Honor Code," and I tend to think that people follow it (aka being honest, not stealing stuff, and such). So, he goes back and finds the plate of cookies. There are three cookies left (out of a grand total of 12). I couldn't help but laugh, and told him I hoped that whoever took them felt better about their test by eating a cookie - to which he replied frankly, "Yeah, and that they repent quickly." Well, take this story as you will - did one person eat nine cookies? Did nine people eat one cookie? To what extent does the integrity of BYU students extend (clearly not past a plate of scrumptious cookies)? To be sure, I am not bitter. However, my roommate is designing an experiment in which we leave another plate of cookies... laced with ex-lax. To be continued...