don't get caught

mood: okay
music: dead kennedys--advice from christmas past
CPCetc: air conditioner! you are too powerful for me!!!

Now that I'm a little more settled and a little less neurotic, here is a more substantial update.

Dorm life is, surprisingly, NOT THAT BAD! I understand that I've only been here two days and everyone's still being relatively polite about noise levels, sobriety, etc, but I feel that I can properly assess my dorm experience thus far and give you all a piece of my mind, as it were.

Here is what Dorm Life is like:
There is a surprising amount of privacy, especially considering you live with someone else in a building with x-hundred some of your closest friends. When you are a freshman and don't know any better, you tend to stay in your room with the door closed and spend an extensive amount of time on your computer, reading, listening to music and trying to memorise the cable channels. However, other people are not so quiet and tend to come down the hall and knock on doors and try to meet everyone. Last night, as I'm sitting alone in my room on the computer because my roommate is out without her keys seeing some hypnotist, these two blokes come and knock on my door to introduce themselves. Now, they were very pleasant people, if not a bit eccentric. They invite me to one of their rooms, out for the evening, etc. I decline for the time because, hey, my roommate can't get back in the room. They also inform me that I need to acquire a 'fake' because I'm still very much eighteen and the bars require at least nineteen-years to enter. Nevermind the fact that I can't pass for nineteen if I try.

Another amusing dorm adventure occurred yesterday when Mark-the-Second-Floor-RA knocked on our door and proceeded to tell us his Pot Policy. Which kind of came out of nowhere because there is no pot in our room, no scent of pot in the air, and I'm relatively certain fifty-percent of the occupants in this room do not smoke pot. You get to guess which fifty-percent of that it is.

There are other things you have to get used to in dorm life. Such as CABLES! Last night, Chelsea and I had the experience of a lifetime trying to hook up our television. We had to move my dresser across the room (which leaves a very startling gap at the end of my desk). We have discovered that we are now incredibly cable-savvy. This is a good thing, as we have no one to help us in our various cable-related nightmares. However, we must still rely on Chelsea's not-really-a-boyfriend-boyfriend when it comes to computer issues. I, however, am a prat and refuse to call anyone but Matt or InfoTech when/if Jo decides to explode on me.

...Guess what hasn't happened yet? Oh, that's right, Jo. You kick some serious compy ass.

One also must get used to the idea of Breakfast at Eleven. Now, being a hobbit, as I am, I am used to Breakfast at Seven and Elevensies at Eleven. Thankfully, Breakfast at Eleven only occurs on weekends (the theory being that we won't be out of bed until 10.45 anyway). Chelsea and I have managed to destroy this theory two days in a row, much to our dismay. Hopefully, we'll wake up even earlier when we actually have, you know, CLASS to go to. If not, we are likely screwed, and not in a pleasant, sweaty way.

I've had a strange longing for boy-in-tux for the past couple of days. This likely has something to do with the fact that if I look slightly to my right I can view boy-in-tux for as long as I like. Seeing how I have a tendency to glance that way quite a bit and it's almost always in my line of vision, it makes some amount of sense that my thoughts be consumed by boy-in-tux. However, it's still really embarassing to be in some sort of situation where I could possibly blurt out, 'You know what I miss?? Boy-in-TuxOMG!'. Not a good situation. I just really like tuxes. They're classy. And certain people look really good in them, despite what they think. I am, of course, talking about a young Sean Connery.

...*blush*

I failed at makin French Press coffee yesterday. It'll take me a couple of days (and no time to run to the dining hall) to get the balls to try it again. It was waaaaay too strong. Coming from me, that's a definite fuck-up. Hopefully, the coffee at Lentz doesn't taste exactly like poo and I won't have to worry about making it myself until studying becomes a necessity. I'm trusting my killer coffee instincts to save me yet again, however crude they may be now that I am paralyzed by dorm capacity rates. But, in the meantime, I'm hoping for smaller things.

Like having roast beef for breakfast again.