Smallhouse Log

After the first day of classes

  1. Portraying: Single
  2. Conveying: Confused contentment
  3. Now Playing: "Night After Night" - Sidewalk Slam
  4. When Praying: Amanda; Paul; Matt; Me; Everyone else up here, especially Beth

I was told Saturday night, by a drunken Beth, that I am the epitomy of the guy one only likes as a friend. Which is really cool, because that's the same way I feel about her, and also because U of Chicago is probably the only place where the drunks use words like "epitomy". The drinking in itself is not cool, though. Nor the pot-smoking that I suspect is going on. On Saturday, I tried to take care of people a little bit. One can learn a lot about people when they're drunk, though. Alex was a mopey drunk, because his girlfriend of four years had dumped him two weeks before, whenshe went to college, and it was his birthday the next day. His moods swung in three directions: depression to the point of tears, hyperactive/giggly, and calmly acting like an idiot/generally making a joke of himself. Rob puked in the sink after a drink and a half. Beth confided in me that she has a really big crush on Striker John, but doesn't want him to know because they had both agreed that dating within the house (aka. 'housecest') was bad. It was messed up, and by five AM, I was really tired.

I'm still dealing with Amanda's dumping me. I've taken her picture down, and I've got my directory open to the page with Megan Wachspress on it, but I still write her emails, and, well, I still love her. Not in the same way, perhaps.... but perhaps I do. Drunks aren't the only ones that can make confessions; I'm not over her yet, and I know I shouldn't be going out with anyone else yet. Nor should I (I had a coversation with the Lord about this earlier today) fall into the ways of the world around me and be drooling all over when I see girls with low-cut tops. And there are a lot of them. I mean, I know it's hot raight now, but must you dress in such a manner?

Other points of note: Wrote some poems. Was encouraged by a busker to keep practicing my pennywhistle and "keep the music alive". Am on a monkey-lot of mailing lists for RSOs, and it's now ten past three, so I have no qualms about going to sleep now.

Did I mention the fact that I had to memorise fifteen Hiragana characters today for Japanese class? And that it was only the first day?

Comments have closed.