Unexplained Princeton mysteries

Well, it has been over a month since I've been here at Princeton University, and though this noble campus has revealed many of her secrets to me, there is still some mystery lurking about in her crevices. I implore you, the reader, to aid me in my quest of discovery, and pacify the throngs of unanswered questions buffeting my tired brain.

Firstly, why do we get scolded for taking fruit from the cafeteria? Is not the sole purpose of fruit to be eaten, or to be, at least, integrated into some sort of edible arrangement? By restricting us from taking advantage of this fact of nature, are we not negating fruit's very existence? It wasn't until late one night last week that I became painfully aware of this ever-growing problem. I discover an orange, cold, friendless, hopelessly squished, on the side of the road. Naturally, I realized this poor specimen, in a desperate attempt to avoid slowly rotting in some wire frame prison, had taken its own life. We cannot allow these fruit to continue suffering alone. All they need is one kind, hungry soul. Is that so much to ask?

Next, why do some professors refuse to give details on midterms unless put on the spot? I still don't know if I'm having a midterm in one of my classes, and with midterm week rapidly approaching, I'm beginning to think that this is very not good. This truly baffles me, because if no one shows up and everyone fails, NO ONE is going to benefit. When asked about the midterm, my professor replies incompletely, with each half answer accompanied by a furtive glance slightly to the left. Hmmm. So far, I know for certain that if I were to have a midterm, it might be in McCosh and it could possibly be some evening this coming week. My feminine intuition tells me that perhaps there is more to uncover with this little enigma, but for now, I think just the room number would suffice.

Another question that plagues me is this: What is the deal with Marquand Library? A three-hour trek to the E-quad, several more spent trying to decipher call number information that was disrupted due to the relocation from McCormick, a slight scuffle with a librarian about making a Xerox copy from a book on reserve, and to top it all off, no coin machines for the copier. (Author's note: Do not underestimate the power of a librarian. Do not laugh when they threaten to Xerox your face before letting you Xerox the book. They are not kidding. On a lighter note, anyone wishing to purchase this highly artistic rendition of my face can drop off a five dollar deposit in my mailbox with an envelope with your campus address.) Blast it, Marquand, you may have won the battle but I have not yet begun to fight!! Those copies will be mine, oh yes, they will be mine.

Lastly, why is it that all the events on this campus take place at the same time? The ultimate irony about being here at the number one school in the country and having mountains of amazing opportunities thrown at you from every angle is that they are all tomorrow night at 9 p.m. For example, this past Saturday, there was a concert in the Butler courtyard (this doesn't really count towards my point, as it was right under my window, so really no matter what I did, I still was at the concert), a UFO viewing of "Lilo and Stitch," a "Stress-buster" study break, a Glee Club concert, and about 50 million other things to do, not to mention a viewing of Pulp Fiction (AWESOME MOVIE) in my dorm. And it seems that no matter what you do or how many events you try to attend, everyone around you is always talking about the one you missed in the morning. Or maybe that's just me.

So here are some of the many mysteries I've yet to solve here at Princeton, and if you or anyone you know can guide me in my pursuit of truth and justice for fruit and Xeroxes everywhere, please leave a five dollar deposit in my mailbox with your campus address and your suggestions. Free Xerox with your kind participation. Thank you. Noelle Muro is a freshman from East Haven, Conn. She can be reached at nmuro@princeton.edu.