Because Sushma Didn't Make One

The world really is cyclical. First Xanga, now, three years later, this. It's rather interesting.

Perhaps later I'll write an introductory post. As of now, because you (indicates Sushma) and you (indicates Lindsey) are going to be the only ones with knowledge of this space, I'll leave it out. Without getting too metaphysical, you know who I am.

Well it's Saturday night, and I have nowhere to be and nothing to do. My suite of five is occupied by yours truly, with Karate-Mike in Atlantic City breaking boards, my ROTC roommate is in a hospital guarding the emergency room, and the others are probably at home. This campus really is dead on weekends, but at least I'm actually here. Three of the last four weekends have been forensics related, and I've found myself in Virginia, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, driven through Jersey, Delaware, and just generally been nice and busy. I almost welcome the boredom. Almost.

I had a nice dinner with a Catholic (long distance relationship in Nebraska, future cake decorator), a Republican from Florida (in my honors class, international relations major, yet surprisingly I don't really know her that well), and a member of the Dance Team (from Ohio, on the SHU dance... club? team?... in my Russian Class, IR major). Well, that is to say I ate dinner with speech people before going over and joining their table. It was an interesting discussion, and by interesting I mean we talked about rock bands and camping. Not that I'm poor by any means, but they all seemed to have a little bit more money than me. Dancer talked about how her parents just sold their cabin because they never used it, Floridian Elephant talked about how she wanted to get an internship in Belgium over the summer (she'd visited before) and Cakes just seems... affluent. Perhaps I'm completely wrong. After dinner they had to do laundry. So they did.

Confused girl (in honors, criminal justice major, long distance relationship with a Wisconsin boy, former-potential fling [she was really attached to the guy she gets to see once every two months for the next three years after dating for less than two months before college]) is busy with her first ever collegiate Mock Trial competition this weekend, Peanuts (long distance relationship with a guy in Pittsburg, PA, on the speech team*, is a cross of Jeanette and Suzanne, is deathly alergic to peanuts, former IR major but switched to Secondary Education already) is busy with said boyfriend from Pennsylvania, and I don't really feel like exerting much effort to randomly try and find people. I recently discovered Pandora Radio on the internet, and it's making my life quite wonderful. I'm probably going to take advantage of the time off that I have and do a paper that isn't due until Thursday soon! Won't that be fun?

I think that college is swimming. You can hear about swimming, you can know people that swim, but until you actually try to swim you really don't have any idea what the experience is like. Swimming can be a lot of fun, but first you have to learn how to swim properly. Not swimming properly can lead to you drowning, which isn't fun at all. Both are fun naked some of the time if it's not too cold. (A difference: college usually doesn't make you lose weight.) In keeping with this extended metaphor, still feel like I'm really struggling to breathe. I'm making good grades, owning in class discussions (people here are so wonderfully idealistic. In one discussion earlier this week, Confused Girl told me that I "should cheer up" while two others mentioned me by name before saying they "strongly" or "completely" disagreed with me.), and thoroughly enjoying the school part of school. It's just outside of the seventeen hours of class, I feel like I don't have any direction, purpose, or clue what I'm doing. I'm just in the ocean somewhere, looking for the shore.

This is probably rediculously long by normal blog standards.

"Just keep swimming, just keep swimming..."