Monday, September 1, 2008
My return to school has encompassed impromptu Super Smash Brawl parties (more on that later), waking up earlier than one, and living with five men.
Trust me. It's not as raunchy as it sounds. Since I've arrived, I've managed to turn my favorite bead-bedecked camisole blue. I use this lemon and poppy seed cleanser each morning, so I feel like I'm slathering myself with a bagel every time I wash my face. I've linked onto other people's wireless systems, both with and without their knowledge (okay, mostly without), and one of the only times I truly feel needed is in my film classes, where I seem to have become resident expert on fetishization, penis envy, and fears related to castration.
There is a happy picture on my door that most usefully reveals my name to all who are ignorant of those blessed words; this picture also features a photograph of a rock formation and a sign adjacent to said formation which informs us that it is a "bottomless pit. 65 feet deep". The background of the photo has been crudely juxtaposed with the word fail.
It took me a while to get that.
Another thing I didn't get at first and still don't really understand is the fact that a recent photo I took of a bunch of, um, photos turned out backwards. Is it telling that I noticed this first because my cat's patch appeared on the wrong eye and only later realized that the writing on my French film flyer was backwards too? Lauren tells me that the cause of this inversion is the position of the camera. Yeah, whatever, Lauren.
I think the reason I don't understand that is the same reason that I can't pack suitcases or play tetrus or not just suck at life.