Missives From the Front Lines
Cohabitation, n. The act or state of dwelling together, often in an intimate relationship without legal or religious sanction. The wickedness of such state is demonstrated in the most direct faction every fall on college campuses across the globe; if there were such thing as a compassionate God who had say in such matters, all freshmen would be given the blessing of single rooms. The reality of these living arrangements is considered by some a convincing argument for Atheism.
Here I am, finally established in my foxhole, dug into the muddy trenches behind enemy lines, having planted my flag in the name of Spain on this match of the world three thousand miles away from anything I might call home...yes, I'm at school, in my dorm, and I've even unpacked before midterms. Those of you from my old life currently doubting that this is genuinely written by me because of that fact, or perhaps casting aspersions on the veracity of my statements? As the working man says: fuck off and die.
Truth be told, I think I've come out exceptionally lucky on the cohabitation question. If I believed in Powers That Be or Luck outside of random chance, I might knock on wood or throw salt over my shoulder or something equally quaint. I'm certainly not going to go trumpeting that I've got a new BFF; for one thing, the pod person worries might be real if I suddenly did that, and for a second I think it would belittle my new roommate, shoving her into a category rather than considering her a real person. That said, we've got just enough in common to get along, just enough different to keep things interesting, and our room is looking like the semi-official headquarters for getting The Man elected. We'll see how things go post-November, but the watchword is Hope, after all. If we're really lucky, maybe we can be headquarters for the bloody revolution just in time for Christmas.
Of course, now that forward base camp is established, I really should be getting out and scouting the local territory. Not to say that I haven't at all -- I've certainly not turned into a hermit, nor is it cold enough even for a wimp like me that I've decided to do my groundhog/hibernating rodent impression. Hell, Dot and I even ended up at girl's night over at Minnie's the other day -- she and Dot are in a poetry class together, if I'm remembering right? We brought refreshments, which were appreciated, and frank discussion of certain college-based phenomena that may not have been entirely appreciated by everyone. Though it's hard to tell how appreciative someone's being when wide-eyed shock has set in.
Note to self: try to be a little kind to the Midwest girls. Inducing an aneurysm isn't really the end goal -- unless they're the judgmental bitchy type who're soaking up this pledge week nonsense. They're still fair game.
That reminds me, actually, why I needed to remind myself not to play hermit: it's rush week for all the sororities and fraternities on campus. When I get over the twitching, and take the deep breath necessarily to get across campus for my next class without succumbing to the urge to vomit, I try to remember why in the hell I decided to go to a school still allowing the damn things to leech off student life like the cancerous boils they are. If someone's got an answer for that one, actually, please let me know, because I keep not coming up with it. Really, I'm just glad that Jane managed to shake loose her vapid pair of roommates for replacements that she, at least, is happy with. The one I've met is the one I accidentally tried to burst a vessel in, but she seems a better fit for Jane. Maybe I'll get a chance to get to know her better when not breaking her head, and the other, sooner than later.
In the meantime, decisions must be made: just how slinky a dress do I want to hunt for? Inquiring minds want to know.
Here I am, finally established in my foxhole, dug into the muddy trenches behind enemy lines, having planted my flag in the name of Spain on this match of the world three thousand miles away from anything I might call home...yes, I'm at school, in my dorm, and I've even unpacked before midterms. Those of you from my old life currently doubting that this is genuinely written by me because of that fact, or perhaps casting aspersions on the veracity of my statements? As the working man says: fuck off and die.
Truth be told, I think I've come out exceptionally lucky on the cohabitation question. If I believed in Powers That Be or Luck outside of random chance, I might knock on wood or throw salt over my shoulder or something equally quaint. I'm certainly not going to go trumpeting that I've got a new BFF; for one thing, the pod person worries might be real if I suddenly did that, and for a second I think it would belittle my new roommate, shoving her into a category rather than considering her a real person. That said, we've got just enough in common to get along, just enough different to keep things interesting, and our room is looking like the semi-official headquarters for getting The Man elected. We'll see how things go post-November, but the watchword is Hope, after all. If we're really lucky, maybe we can be headquarters for the bloody revolution just in time for Christmas.
Of course, now that forward base camp is established, I really should be getting out and scouting the local territory. Not to say that I haven't at all -- I've certainly not turned into a hermit, nor is it cold enough even for a wimp like me that I've decided to do my groundhog/hibernating rodent impression. Hell, Dot and I even ended up at girl's night over at Minnie's the other day -- she and Dot are in a poetry class together, if I'm remembering right? We brought refreshments, which were appreciated, and frank discussion of certain college-based phenomena that may not have been entirely appreciated by everyone. Though it's hard to tell how appreciative someone's being when wide-eyed shock has set in.
Note to self: try to be a little kind to the Midwest girls. Inducing an aneurysm isn't really the end goal -- unless they're the judgmental bitchy type who're soaking up this pledge week nonsense. They're still fair game.
That reminds me, actually, why I needed to remind myself not to play hermit: it's rush week for all the sororities and fraternities on campus. When I get over the twitching, and take the deep breath necessarily to get across campus for my next class without succumbing to the urge to vomit, I try to remember why in the hell I decided to go to a school still allowing the damn things to leech off student life like the cancerous boils they are. If someone's got an answer for that one, actually, please let me know, because I keep not coming up with it. Really, I'm just glad that Jane managed to shake loose her vapid pair of roommates for replacements that she, at least, is happy with. The one I've met is the one I accidentally tried to burst a vessel in, but she seems a better fit for Jane. Maybe I'll get a chance to get to know her better when not breaking her head, and the other, sooner than later.
In the meantime, decisions must be made: just how slinky a dress do I want to hunt for? Inquiring minds want to know.