The Yale Herald Column 4/25/08

Barbies, M.A.S.H. and the new residential colleges

BY CELESTE BALLARD

When I was growing up, my sister would force me to play Barbies with her. I would often watch as her well-groomed, smudge-free leading lady reigned over the ragged cast of Barbie wannabes that I kept in my monogrammed pink case: Cinderella Barbie, whose shorn locks complimented her sharpie eyeliner; Little Mermaid Barbie, who had suffered through a long, nauseating car ride from the Disney store that ended in vomit; and an array of Skippers, Dollys, Stacys, and other tweens from Barbie’s entourage. Her Barbies were fashionistas and working moms, while mine were fashion victims and the hostages of my younger brother’s Army men. She was always much better at Barbie realism, and I was always excited to participate and look on as she acted out scenes of domestic bliss. Luckily for us, we soon became the proud owners of the most exalted of Barbie’s bourgeois luxuries, the trademarked Malibu Dreamhouse, and this paragon of childhood “Material Girl” idealism prompted us to generate floor plans of our own.

I recently found one such schematic that made it clear I was never destined to be an architecture or interior design student. If any of those students got a hold of my drawing, they would cringe at my refusal to use a ruler or other straight edge. For a drafting pen, I used a bright pink Gelly Roll to label my boxes in perfect Denelian script. My plan began with a small foyer, a room I knew belonged at the entrance of any good Dream Mansion, but a room I did not, evidently, know how to spell. Aware of the basic structural necessities, I added a small bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub adjacent to said foyer. A stranger or psychoanalyst might describe the rest of the floor plan as a combination of wishful thinking and appetite. A veritable pantheon of fast food deities included, but was not limited to, McDonalds, Jamba Juice, Noah’s Bagels, and the Chinese food place down the street. Little Celeste then included a roller rink, an ice skating rink, a bowling alley, a moon bounce room, and a ball pit. I also managed to squeeze in acres and acres of theme parks, including not only Disneyland, but also the more adventurous Magic Mountain (even though I was not yet “This tall to ride”).

Needless to say, the rooms I’ve inhabited during my time at Yale would never be attached to the word “dream.” Moving off campus definitely increased the square footage I could devote to strewing my clothes all over the place. But, as any amateur real estate enthusiast might tell you, location is everything, and Howe Street is smack in the heart of Gun Wavin’ New Haven. My prospects for next year, however, make my current abode look like what might be considered a Mansion in a game of M.A.S.H. For those who haven’t played M.A.S.H., at the end of this game of imagined futures you end up with one of the letters in the titular acronym to determine your future housing. It’s like room draw. Freshman year, my room was the H: a house. Sophomore year, the A: Apartment. This year, I landed on the M for Mansion. My younger self never imagined I’d ever be settling for the S—S, of course, is for Shack. I want to live on the great island nation of Manhattan next year; unfortunately, a shack is where I’ll be living.

In any case, if there’s one thing a schematic for a Dream House might inform, it’s the way the Yale campus will be changing thanks to the addition of two new residential colleges. I would like to propose a quick plan for my Dream Residential College. The two new colleges, which I have named Mariah Carey and Vanderslice, would be built as two eco-friendly biodomes. Because both are so close to the graveyard, and because the portentous sign “The Dead Shall Be Raised” is certain to become a self-fulfilling prophecy by the year 2018, both Carey and Vanderslice will have reinforced Zombie moats filled with corpse eating manatees. Instead of the alienating entryway system, the colleges will have hallways, all of which connect via a series of chutes and ladders for efficiency, joy, and the sake of nostalgia.

The colleges will feature an ice skating rink (because some dreams never die), a Swedish massage centry, and a McFlurry kiosk. The courtyard will be host to annual reenactments of Woodstock ’99. Finally, my dream colleges will have the coolest master and dean combinations since Master T and Dean Loge left Yale to form a championship winning tango team on Dancing with the Former University Professors. For Vanderslice, students would introduce their parents to Master Diddy and Dean Harriet the Spy. At Carey, Dean Splinter would offset the kooky antics of Master Philip Seymour Hoffman. Until these colleges are built, I’ll wait with bated breath, mostly because I’ll be holed up without much ventilation and certainly without AC. In a one-bedroom converted into a four-bedroom. It may not be a McWorld, but that doesn’t mean a girl can’t dream.