Twenty minutes ago, I woke up with a start and looked at my clock. “6:23” it said. The alarm should have gone off three minutes earlier — man, was I lucky to wake up on my own!

I got up, took a shower, and came back to my room. I was about to get dressed to go to work when I noticed that I had very few clean clothes handy. “That’s odd, I must have forgotten to do laundry on Sunday,” I thought. “Wait a second… I don’t remember doing anything on Sunday.” Suspicious, I ran to the computer and checked the computer’s clock. “Sunday, October 31, 2004” it said. D’oh! Needless to say, I felt stupid.

Meh. I think I’ll go back to sleep.

Tonight, my Fraternity celebrates it’s new association with a host of fresh members, people whom I look forward to one day calling “Brother.”

We call this day Bid Tuesday and celebrate it with age-old traditions and revelry.

Looking back to 1996, we can see that not much has changed.^*

* Note that the milk chug pictured was (and still is) completely optional

I need to drive less; at least, that’s what my odometer is telling me. Three weeks ago today, I picked up my Bimmer from the dealer. In that time, I’ve put 3,000 miles on it. Pundits might point out (accurately) that 1,200 of those miles are from driving to Indiana and back. Even so, doesn’t 1,800 miles in a score of days seem a tad excessive? At this rate, I’m on track to drive over 30,000 miles per year. Needless to say, I’m glad I don’t have a lease.

I think that I would like to continue my new tradition of taking a vacation somewhere exotic every February. But where? Perhaps a ski trip to Whistler in British Colombia? Maybe Vail? The Swiss Alps look tempting, too. I suppose I *could* go somewhere warm, but I have no particular desire to do so. There has been talk of a group going skiing around New Years, but my availability is questionable because of a prior commitment. Decisions, decisions…

So, I’m in the auto parts store today buying car wax. I get to the register and prepare to pay for the merchandise. The clerk is looking around at nothing in particular when his eyes pass the window and he does a double take. “Whoa, there’s a nice Bimmer outside,” he says. I glance in the same direction. “Yeah, that’s mine,” I nonchalantly reply. “Cooool.”

Now, the experience would have been a lot better if the clerk had been an attractive 20-something chick. Alas, there are not many attractive 20-something chicks working at auto parts stores. In fact, I can’t recall ever seeing a female under the employ of an auto parts store. I’m not trying to be sexist — it just seems as though the auto-parts retail employee demographic is heavily skewed towards the Mars side. It’s probably even more skewed than the engineering demographic.

Anyhow, at about the same time as the clerk is complimenting my car, I hear the words “Hi Jeff” from behind me. I whirl around to find… my manager! Strains of “It’s a Small World” briefly float through my head before I beat them back into the dark recesses of my mind, near my “knowledge” of combinatorial algebra. I respond with appropriate greetings, as one would be apt to do. It’s easy to forget that colleagues at work and school lead real lives too.

I remember finding it very awkward when I would run into my high school teachers at the grocery store. It’s a social situation with no clear solution other than to scream in panic and run away. Graceful? No, but quite effective at avoiding uncomfortable conversation. Of course, the fact that I worked at the grocery store didn’t help matters.

You know who else you might run into at an auto parts store? Maybe Jay Leno. Unlikely but possible. Maybe it would be some other late-night comedian, like Jon Stewart.

Last week, Jon Stewart made a fantastic TV appearance when he went on CNN’s “Crossfire” as a guest and verbally annihilated the two hosts. The two hosts were so taken aback at their supposedly-comedic guest’s intelligent commentary that they were reduced to making jejune quips about the lack of humor. Hilarity (from the embarrassment of the pundits) ensued. See what all the fuss is about over on iFilm.

On a related note, Jon Stewart is a Pike.

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Fun election-season quiz: Which two people ran for office and received identical numbers of electoral college votes, therefore sending the matter to the House of Representatives, and eventually (after 36 ballots) resulting in one becoming President and the other Vice-President? (Hint: peanut butter)

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Blogroll update: There’s a new auto-highlight-when-updated feature on my blogroll: blogs that have been updated since your last visit are marked with bold type. Nifty, eh?

“Traffic out there sucks this morning,” squawked my radio. So true. Unlike my typical 20-minute commute, the morning’s drive was already at 45 minutes. And I still had five miles of stop-and-go to cover before my exit. At least my left leg was getting a work-out.

While navigating the modern sea of automobiles, I began to let my mind wander back to simpler times. No, I’m not talking about the (arguably) wholesome 1950s. I’m talking about the early 2000s: my college years.

I had a great time in college. Not only was it very enjoyable, it was also a place of tremendous personal growth. I reinvented myself during those four years. The change was so significant, and I am such a geek, that I came to view it as a major version change: Keacher 1.0 entered college, but Keacher 2.0 graduated.

To the outside world, the most visible change is my appearance. I look at my high-school driver’s license and barely recognize myself. Even relatives who haven’t seen me in a while don’t immediately recognize me. The external changes are significant, true, but they are merely a reflection of my internal evolution. A single particular critical choice, more than any other, sent me down that path of growth.

The best choice I made during college was to join a Fraternity. Particularly a Rose-Hulman Fraternity. Specifically, Pi Kappa Alpha. I was apprehensive at first — years of Hollywood movies and morbid newspaper reports have given the word “fraternity” a bad connotation. Fortunately, reality (at least at Rose) turned out to be quite different from popular belief.

I’d say that the three biggest misconceptions were the issue of hazing, the stereotype of the “dumb frat guy,” and the word “frat.” Hazing? It doesn’t exist in my chapter. Dumb members? My Fraternity Brothers are damn intelligent, and we have the GPAs and statistics to prove it. Frat? We have a proud tradition of not referring to our organization with the demeaning term “frat.” In fact, many of the older Brothers will get irate if they hear their beloved Fraternity slandered with the word “frat.” My chapter is special, and at the risk of sounding conceited, I think we are the best chapter in the best Fraternity in the world. Unfortunately, that wasn’t always my view.

It took me a long time to realize what I had in Pike. In fact, it took me almost two years. Fortunately, I finally grasped the privilege and opportunity that I was bestowed by being a Brother. The most important moment was when I opened my eyes to the friends I had in my Brothers. Friends through thick and thin, in good times and bad. Friends for life. Reliable friends. Trustworthy friends. Friends I respect. Friends that respect me. Friends that became like family. Faithful friends. True friends.

Leaving my friends, my Brothers, was what pained me the most about graduating.

Perhaps that’s why I was so excited about Homecoming. I’d catch up with friends, relive some memories at the House. Just like old times!

The unstoppable march of time eventually brought Homecoming upon me. Last Thursday, I made the eight-and-a-half-hour drive to Terre Haute for the annual tradition.

The drive was smooth and fast, thanks to my new wheels. I left directly from work and arrived around midnight, making me one of the first alumni to show up at the house.

It was like I never left. In fact, a couple people walked right past me and then did double-takes when they remembered that I wasn’t normally around. Tradition carried on with a late-night IHOP run. My little bros, several other Brothers, and I all piled into our cars to seek out pancake goodness. Service was poor, and the food was, well, IHOP, but the company was great!

The next day (Friday), I brought my lineage our to dinner at Mogger’s. Once again, the company was good. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said about the menu, the atmosphere, or the food. A few months ago, Mogger’s purchased the neighboring Tap Room and converted it to additional dining space. At the same time, they modified their menu. The results are disappointing. Mogger’s used to be my favorite restaurant in Terre Haute. However, due to the changes, I don’t think I’ll ever go back.

After dinner, we made it back to Rose in time for the annual bonfire. Sure, the fire was a LOT smaller than it was my freshman and sophomore years, but it’s still fun to see. After all, what’s not to like about a huge [controlled] fire?

Unlike previous homecomings, this one felt more subdued. I can recall homecomings of yore being rambunctious soirees, but this one was comparatively quiet. Maybe the belligerent alumni stayed home…

As Alex pointed out, the same topics come up over and over in homecoming small talk. I was asked the following questions approximately three zillion times:

• I heard you got a Bimmer! How do you like it? (Optional: What happened to the Bonneville?)
• How is the job going? What do you do?
• Where are you living now?
• What did you do to your finger? (My right ring fingernail is black-and-blue)
• I heard you got a girlfriend!

…to which my answers were:

• Yup. I like it a lot! It’s fast and smooth. What more could I want?
• I’m enjoying it. I work in R&D for a large medical device company.
• I live in Minnesota again. You betcha!
• I was attacked by an alligator during a recent trip to Florida and bruised my nail while wrestling it into submission. (Or I jammed it against a table while cutting Lexan. You decide.)
• Unfortunately, no. (I suspect that rumor got started from a facetious comment I made on a previous post)

All in all, homecoming was fun. I plan to be there again next year, once again reliving my college years with my good friends. Ah, memories…

Suddenly, the dreamy musing disappears into a sea of brake lights. With a start, I snap back to reality. I’m finally at the Central Avenue exit from I-694 (I’m commuting, remember?). Time to roll in to the office and make my daily mark in corporate America. I enjoyed college, but this “real-world” thing is pretty nice too.

(bah… I need to write more; I’m getting rusty…)