Getting my foot in the door.

So a couple of weeks ago I very bravely asserted myself and asked the Point Weekly's copy editor if I could assist her. She enthusiastically accepted my offer. So last Sunday I hung around the newsroom and proofread whatever they handed me, delighting in the journalisty banter and increasing slap-happiness that grew as the night went on, glad to be even a little part of the newspaper's staff. At midnight, my curfew, I fairly pranced back to the dorm like a blither Cinderella, content with the knowledge that I could spend every Sunday night that way should I wish to.

The next day, at the weekly newspaper meeting, I volunteered to write a piece for the opinion page. I don't know if they'll publish it, but it felt really good to write it. It follows thusly:

What if you can stand the heat?

By Kaitlin Barr

It was going to be so delicious. Stocked with the groceries my gracious parents had left me and a custom recipe culled from the Internet, I journeyed up the five floors from my dorm room to Nease’s box to retrieve the keys to the community kitchen. As I climbed the last set of stairs, I contemplated the virtues of a warm, homemade dinner.

The box was empty.

Dismayed, I returned to my room. It was too late to go to the Caf. Instead of savoring egg drop soup and mango tea, I forlornly crunched dry Top Ramen.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been stymied in my meal-making. I’d brought a container of steel-cut oats with me to college after I found out Nease had a kitchen, fully expecting to be able to enjoy my favorite breakfast every morning. However, I’ve discovered that I can only gain access when an RA is in the box- after 2 pm on weekdays, and not until 7 pm on weekends. Pots and pans and the like have to be checked out by filling out a form.

This means the kitchen sits idle most of the time, unassailably locked up. Nease residents can’t make breakfast or lunch, and can only occasionally make dinner. And why? Because it’s assumed whoever uses it will leave a mess.

We’re all old enough to clean up after ourselves. As long as we keep the kitchen maintained at a reasonable level of cleanliness, can’t we keep it available? I have my own cooking utensils; it’s fair to require us to provide such. But the kitchen approaches the bathroom in importance. Regulating the use of the former is almost as bad as doing the same to the latter.

I’d like to appeal to the RDs of Nease: Allow us full-time use of the kitchen. Crock pots and hot plates are contraband; microwaves just don’t suffice sometimes. As responsible adults paying to live here, we should have full access to the facilities provided.

Keep the pots and pans locked up if you must. But please leave the kitchen open.