The College Chronicles: Episode 1

So, obviously I've come to terms with the fact that this blog is sort of the window through which I can communicate to my friends and family back home in excruciating detail my personal college experience. So this will serve as a sort of transition post in which I will randomly reflect on several parts of my college life. These sort of aimless entries will be titled The College Chronicles, and are going to be raw and uncensored, not unlike adult films or a farmer's market.

Anyway.

From this point I will not be backspacing anything I write. I will just figuratively vomit onto the page and it is up to your brain's wiring to make sense of that which I write. (I do reserve the right to edit for grammar and mechanics, however, so please accept that. When I say that I won't change anything, I mean the content of the post. Essentially, once it's there, it's there forever. Pineapple. See. I can't un-say the word pineapple because that is content. If I had written the word "pienapul," though, I would reserve the right to re-write the word. Perhaps I'll establish a set of by-laws, and you, my faithful bloggees, may call me out at anytime if you feel I am not adhering to a College Chronicle general rule. You could even go as far to say that it was a College Chronicle Caper. Oh God, see, I can't un-write that.)

I've noticed that people stay up late. Like, really late. I, being a person who loves sleeping (but not sleeping around because I'm not a slut), do not always sleep. But when I get the opportunity, I take it. Now, granted, I understand that not everyone has an 8am class, and that a lot of these people are out on their own for the first time, and the fact that they can stay up late without purpose or direction means that they should. I'm a victim of this belief as well; please don't think I'm being hypocritical. I just find that sometimes, if I am tired, I should sleep. Natural human biological reaction.

Also, I've noticed that the toilets on my floor flush spontaneously. They are the fancy automatic flush toilets, which, given that some people in the world are incapable of flushing their own waste (people in general, not on my floor-- if you're on my floor and I'm reading this, I'm making a general statement. Same about the sleeping discussion you might have read earlier in this blog), I'm a strong advocate for them. However, they are super-sensitive, and more often than not, the toilet flushes twice when one flush would have been sufficient. And so then, I was thinking, certainly I can't be the only person in the world this has happened to. I hope not, because that would suggest some sort of inferiority on my part in my abilities of correctly using a toilet. If we are to assume that this happens to other people as often as it happens to me, then we can assume that the dorm is using twice, perhaps even three times as much water as it needs to. Perhaps this is why room and board is so expensive these days. Yes, I'm blaming it on toilets. Perhaps automatic flush toilets are the reason why we're in a recession (or are we finished receding? Certainly there has to be a point where we stop. But I won't talk politics). Perhaps, and I'm just spit-balling here, but perhaps automatic flush toilets will one day cause the downfall of humanity. After all, water is nothing to laugh about. If we flush it all away, we'll all die of thirst. I'm just saying.

Yes, I realize that I just spent ten minutes writing about toilets. But the joke is on you, because you just spent ten minutes reading about toilets. Or longer, if you're below level in reading. I should hope not. If you are, there are options for you.

Also, in writing this I've noticed that my mind moves a mile a minute. It's strange. As I gaze up through my hurricane shutter, the sun is creating a pleasant aura in this room. It's very good for good blogging strategy. What does that even mean? "Blogging strategy?" Why did I say that I couldn't erase anything I wrote?

Being slightly independent is a strange thing. Like, for instance, grocery shopping. Something that seemed so simple when my mom did it. But, when I go to the Target near campus, I end up hopelessly lost at times. For instance, I still haven't located the Ramen Aisle at Target, despite having been to the store twice now. And it's not like they have a little kiosk where you type in "Ramen." Though that would be ingenious. Like real-life search engines. On another note, why aren't there machines that tell me where the keys to my dorm are in times of crisis? What about my iPod? I can call my phone, but I can't call my keys. I mean really. This is the twenty-first century. Why am I even using keys? Why doesn't my door just scan my retina and let me in? I mean, really. That solves two problems with one blow: I can get into my dorm without worrying about a key, and pirates, who wear eye-patches, can't because their retinas are covered with an eye-patch.

What?

Nope. Can't erase it.

Also, Skype. It's annoying sometimes. Like when I'm watching something and suddenly people are chatting and EVERY SINGLE TIME SOMEONE POSTS SOMETHING I get that little water drop noise. It's going on right now. Certain ethnic girls from high school are chatting right now in a group chat, and my Skype keeps making the little water drop noise. But what really irks me is that, for some reason, when I have my earbuds in, whenever the little water drop noise happens, it goes on the loud speakers, instead of into my earbuds. And that means that whatever is playing at the time is played out loud. This usually isn't too big of an issue, but it's sometimes very difficult to listen to Somebody to Love by Justin Bieber when people are judging you after hearing random snippets of the song.

Just for the record, I only own two Justin Bieber songs. Neither of them is Baby. Because that song is ridiculous. On a related note, I do own Rebecca Black's Friday, as well as the Glee cover of it. Yes, I did pay ninety-nine cents for it. No, I'm not proud of myself.

Oh. Another thing. The laundry room. I feel as if sometimes people have no regard for other people when it comes to laundry. It's like all morals fly out of the window and suddenly we're in a jungle setting. The laundry room is like the lion's den... in a jungle setting (SHUT UP) and I am a piece of meat. A sentient piece of meat who knows he's a piece of meat and who only wants to do one load because if he falls behind he'll have to do two loads and end up looking like a douche for using two washing machines when there's a limited amount. But anyway, I had to transfer my clothes from the washer to the dryer. I go in and there are like three dryers open. Suddenly, two girls come in and take two of the dryers. No big deal, I think, I still have this dryer left. Well, true story, there was a reason that dryer was open. It wasn't working. And so then I realize that one of the girls simply came in, put a single article of clothing into the dryer, and left without starting the dryer. Now, I'm sorry, but you can't just "reserve" dryers. It's a come-and-go process and you get what you get. Regardless, I still felt dirty as I removed the lone article of slightly damp clothing from the dryer and placed my own clothes in there. But it's a jungle out there, and it's survival of the fittest (or, if you prefer Creation, then it's like the Garden of Eden and I'm fighting with the snake for an apple or something.) I guess you could say I'd better "wash" up my act.

I'm not entirely clever when I'm simply writing what I'm thinking as I'm thinking it. And that's unfortunate.

Also, I have rediscovered the joy of orange juice at college. It's true. I bought a whole carton of OJ from Target and I've been enjoying it the entire last two weeks. I have a glass in the evening. It's sort of like having a glass of Chardonnay in the evening as you relax in a big dusty chair by the fire reading a Leo Tolstoy classic, except replace the alcohol with Vitamin C, the fire with a fan, the dusty chair with my beautiful futon, and the Leo Tolstoy classic with Facebook, Hulu, or a derivative of Memebase or Failblog.

Well, anyway, it's nearing 6:45 and I have my a cappella practice at 7pm, so I'd better bid adieu to my beautiful readers, who always remain faithful to me. God Bless You. God Bless America. And good evening to you all.