Choices

As I was walking into class today, Kelly ran up behind me. She wanted to talk about Doctor Who. Have I seen the new episode yet? No.
Mostly, I forgot that it has already premiered. I've gone so long without regular episodes that it's weird to think there are now more.
I'm still wary of this new Doctor. When Tennant announced he was leaving, a whole slew of ideas went up on the Internet, and some of them sounded like great ideas. I was disappointed that they chose Smith, who I've seen before in other things and found serviceable but ultimately not interesting enough to be anything more than a bit player. I'm also still disappointed they chose a white man instead of a woman and/or a person of color. England is not as white as so many people like to believe. It's time for its greatest tv show to do a better job of reflecting that reality.

Thunder Fetish

Is God reading this blog?* Yesterday, I discussed how much I love the rain, but how rain here usually fails in making melodic sounds. Tonight it rained again, and did a much better time, though it still wasn't as good as at home.
We also have thunder and lightning, which made me happy. We don't get storms up here like we do at home, but I wish we had more thunder. I also love that sound. I love to open up my window and listen, even though that's not such a good idea.
Back when I was living at home, my friend Tony knew about my thunder fetish. He thought it was awesome, so every time there was a storm, he would AIM me and say something about it. I thought of him last night during the storm. If Tony and I were still living close to one another, I would expect a text message or something of the like. Last I heard, Tony was living downtown, and sometimes I really miss him.
It stormed today during class, so we ended up trooping into the basement. I basically took the time to sit there and read Blaise Pascal's Pensees and to check out this hot boy who looked like David Tennant.

*And if so, can I just say that I would prefer to have certain problems solved than have money. Though money might be a decent alternative.

Rain on Rooftops

Last night, at around 4, it started raining again.
I have an odd nostalgic thing going on with weather. I love, for example, to sing in the rain. (At the beginning of the school year, I sang a Priscilla Ahn song in front of Hannah during a downpour, and yesterday, "Roxanne" in the courtyard during a drizzle.)
I love to be snuggled in my bed during a storm, and listen to the rain on the roof. At home, this is usually a great thing, since my bedroom is right under the roof, and I find that the rain puts me into a gentle sleep.
Here, it's a disappointment. It's probably the fact that the roof is at a different angle, but the rain doesn't sound as nice. (Mostly, it's just one dripping sound, which is not ideal. It's suppose to be lots of little raindrops making a larger soundscape.) It makes me miss home and all the strange little creature comforts I have there. For example, I live near a nature preserve, and in the summer, the crickets make tons of noise. I put earplugs in and can still hear them. Those little things make me so happy.
I think another part of the problem is that I just can't sleep. This last month has found me up until four or five in the morning, tossing and turning. I have a lot of stress in my life right now. Most of it is stuff that is going on in my relationships or with other people, and I recognize that in most cases, no one is doing anything on purpose to hurt me. But I still find myself unable to block most of it out. I realized in the shower last night that the first ten things on my mind were all the stresses of my life. A large number of the people and things I found joy in, even a few months ago, have all taken a turn for the worst, almost all at the same moment. I'm hoping if I just manage through this semester, a lot of this will either resolve itself or will go away so that I'm not always forced to think about it.

Better Safe

This is one of the things I did with my Saturday night: barricaded my room in the event of another Cedar Fest. I was here during the last shindig, and my room got teargas in it, despite shutting the windows. I think I'm paranoid, sure, but paranoid in a way that allows me to wake up without a headache or smelling bad and needing a shower after only having one eight hours ago. I wanted my room hermetically sealed from the outside world, so I used a towel and clear duck tape. I realize now that I could have designed something better, but I did this on the fly, and for something so quick, I think it would have worked. Luckily, it didn't need to, because mostly people behaved themselves.

Not Again

Again, I had dreams this morning about that boy. Argh. It wasn't just like a while ago, when I'd be talking to a friend and then feel someone watching me and then turn around and it was him. No, these past couple of times he talked to me. First, I got to meet his girlfriend, which was, as you can imagine, no fun. Then he did the creepy thing where I was walking with a friend, and he was silently following me.
This has got to stop. I've been trying desperately not to think about him in any way, even though that's proving harder and harder. Part of me wants to find his real life counterpart and scream at him until I feel better. (Even though that will be a very short-lived feeling, because four minutes later I'll regret taking out my frustration on a probably-innocent someone.) There's part of me that's wondering if something else is a afoot and my subconscious is trying to warn me. I want to ask this boy if he's determined to leave me no safe harbor on this campus, in this town.
Remember when I complained about not dreaming about boys? I take that back. I don't need to dream about boys, even though what I meant was boys that were attainable and weren't going to make me feel bad about my failings. I would happily go back to the dreams that felt like Salvador Dali writing a summer blockbuster. Really. Or even better, to not dreaming at all, when it would be rare for me to have dreams within six months of each other.

Meatwad in the Morning

If you go out today to the rock, you might be lucky enough to catch this. This is obviously Meatwad, or, as he probably should be called in this incarnation, Meatrock. I love how you can actually see past tags on the rock showing through his pinkish meat skin. And that the rock surprisingly fits his character. I can totally hear him saying "see if I care."

Education Essay

My African history essay on education came back, and you’ll all be happy to know that I got an A-. It’s not as good as I’d like, because only a perfect score will please me, but it’s an improvement over the last essay in class.
The professor read from an essay outloud, and, for a second, I was scared it was going to be mine. When I was in the 7th grade, I had an English teacher who asked to read my papers to the class. I always said no because I felt uncomfortable, since people would know it was me. When I missed class to go to a dentist appointment, she read all the essays of mine she was saving. When someone quoted a bit to me later, my heart fell. It was something I knew I’d written.
This was a tough essay in some ways, and I’m a little annoyed I was marked down. You’re suppose to write an argument and use certain sources, which I did. She decided that I should have used one source where I didn’t, even though I still used cited sources. Grr. I still wrote a solid argument and did everything she asked.