There's so much free frozen pizza in the English Department lounge. I think they're training our stomachs for our future diets as struggling artists.

A list of things and then another list of things. Thoughts on thoughts on thoughts.


I have gloriously furry legs that I have been working on since October (embracing my Hobbit roots).

I have two giant red spots on my chin because I pick at my face even when I know it makes matters worse, but it's fine because who am I trying to impress, anyways (TRICK QUESTION: EVERYONE)?

I have a cup of warm Earl Gray tea cooling in the kitchen which I should probably go fetch or I'll forget about it.

Okay, we're all set, I went and got it. Ugh it's delicious.

A few days ago it was raining and I was about to cross the street but a car zoomed by. And hit a puddle. And suddenly the puddle disappeared from the street, and instead occupied the air, and then my pants. Haaaaaaa. It dried quickly enough.

The next day, all dressed up in a nice outfit, before an important presentation in front of my entire (35 people?) class, I accidentally kicked someone's TOPLESS mug of SCALDING COFFEE onto my legs. Luckily I was wearing stockings because of the whole growing-out-my-hibernation-fur thing. It dried quickly enough.

I'm the good type of busy. I'm doing all of my reading. Doing poetry things. I'm starting the rough draft of my research paper about how increased tourism at Bar Harbor during the Gilded Age affected Wabanaki Tribe's portrayal of their culture. How's that for a specific topic? And I only have to write 20-25 pages on it!

I wrote the most horrifically sing-songy, tongue-twisting poem yesterday and I'm in love with it, even though deep down I know it's quite horrible.

I saw a skunk scutter down Frye Street on my way to dinner. Wow, nature, eh?

I participated in this sexual assault awareness flash-mobby thing this past week. There was no choreographed dancing or anything, that'd be inappropriate. We just all sat down in different places with signs in commons and then the song "Blurred Lines" (ugh be warned, it's disgustingly sexist: http://www.vevo.com/watch/robin-thicke/blurred-lines-unrated-version/USUV71300526)started playing and we all opens up our signs (that said anti-sexual assault things) and went to the food area in commons and stared at people while the song played.
Then the satiric parody played (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tC1XtnLRLPM: it's humorous, but some lines are problematic, though they later say "I'm sorry if you think my lines are crass, tell me how's it feel to get verbally harrassed" or something like that.) and we opened up the signs that quoted the lyrics of the parody song, as well a disclaimer that some of the lines were problematic too, and that we didn't condone the discrimination or violent acts against men. At the end of the song, two of the people took the mic and told the dining room to ask consent and why x,y,z is problematic etc. etc. It was cool, I guess.

Last Friday night was nice, so after it was over I went home and wrote a thing about it. A sickly-sweet-choking-on-my-own-artificially-created-nostalgia-for-the-present thing. It is below.

"And here you will do many things in a night.

You will perform a bollywood routine in a packed center, smilingly sheepishly as a strand of hair escapes into your face while you twirl and jump and extend.

You will sip tea and chomp down on cookies as a substitution for dinner. Friends and roommates alternate between blasting indie punk bands on the speakers and playing ukulele covers of them.

You will dance to music ranging from your friends’ nostalgic teen angst songs you never learned the lyrics to (because you were listening to exclusively Sinatra and Broadway throughout your developing years), to songs that sample Sweet Charity’s “Big Spender” (which of course you will know all of the words to, because you specialize in Broadway) with rap, and,of course, dancing oneself clean.

You will take a break from the basement party and watching classmates frequent the watering hole that is the gin bucket in the bathroom shower by taking up chalk pastels and drawing your roommates face until friends and acquaintances join you and begin to sing The Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song and reminisce about Disney Channel Movies and draw on the walls of the Art House.

You will all decide to climb Mount David in the below freezing weather, slipping on leaves and roots littering the intensely slanted mountainside until you reach the top and begin to howl, becoming wolves that cry out to the surrounding city which lights up the night.

You will find you can still see the stars up above you despite the city, and you’ll join friends laying down on the top of the mountain, gazing up at the flecks of light bursting forth from holes in the clouds. The gray masses move around the sky in a way that makes the stars look as if they are passing by at an alarmingly fast rate. You will notice and exclaim it too loudly, not realizing two people had already commented on this exquisite effect.

You will take a picture of your friends, and the flash from the camera will expose the fact that it is very delicately snowing. A very unassuming flurry of flakes. You will cry out in a passionate yelp and once again howl with the others. Out of fear or joy, you cannot quite tell. Mixes of emotions are welcome. Mutts are too. Howling is for all.

You will scutter down the mountain and end up at the Den, ordering mozzarella sticks and a grilled cheese with tomatoes. You will eat them happily, satisfied with your meal choice, but that will not stop you from taking french fries from Nick’s plate. That is what happens when plates are in reaching distance of you. People will learn.

You will scream the lyrics to “All Things That I’ve Done” down Frye Street while stomping in those blue knock-off Doc Martens you bought at the thrift store for four dollars and you will feel powerful.

You part ways with your midnight companions and go home, where you make more tea and roommates eventually show up and discuss the events of their night. A roommate’s boy comes over while you are in the kitchen. He converses with you as you take your cup of tea upstairs. The words are good ones. You are not wearing a bra under your shirt…or pants… but it’s fine.

You will watch youtube videos about vlogbrothers and wish to buy all Pizza John Paraphernalia on their store website. You almost do. Maybe later. You begin to watch a crash course video on the cold war.

You will grow tired but remain stubbornly certain that you should document your night somewhere. Because the fact that the night was both special and a pretty common occurrence makes you grow warm in your stomach.

Or maybe that’s just the cup of tea you're drinking."

I'm sorry if you had to leave the room to vomit, but I don't have much to say today, and that piece was good filler. 

My housing this year is so cozy, I love it.
I should go do more work now, I suppose.

Bye.