So hey. I'm all college'd up now, going to classes and making friends and shit. Quick life update: quit my horrendous job at Chipotle and had a hard time not sobbing when I told all the people there I was leaving because I love them. Wifey's in yonder-far-land and I've caught the sads. Rooming with another person's cool except when it's not, and I find myself rolling over more than I told myself I would.
But the whole making friends bit? That was the relevant part of that previous paragraph, not my conceited ass rambling. My RA is really big on getting the people in Jones tower to be friends and be social, instead of letting our floor look absolutely deserted all the time, so we do shit together and we're actually friends, as far as I'm aware.
 |
| This is literally what the hallways in Jones felt like last year when the RA wasn't on his game. Deserted. Also? Dr. Who episode, "God Complex". Weird as fuck, and also where I got this hallway image. |
The thing is? All the people on my floor are fucking all stars, and that's not exaggerating. The guy next to me plays guitar like a total boss, and has other random miscellaneous instruments in his room all of which have names. So he's pretty rad. I'm on the international floor, too, which means that people came from places like China and shit. Wow, I can drive home in 20 minutes, and any further than that and I would probably not be able to survive.
 |
| Seriously RA, if you weren't here, who would force these amazing people to hang out with me? You da best. |
And then there's
this guy. He is saturated in interesting, and has done everything at least once, it seems like. He plays the ukulele like a pro. He goes to cons and makes badass cosplays. He's awesome at telling stories. Even the shit in his
dorm is fascinating.
 |
| This is how my brain reacts in this man's heroic presence. And other parts of... nvmd. |
People are just amazing, I don't even know how to deal with anything. The chick I met in my art history class? She's got all her shit together in life, and that just confounds me. HOW.
And then there's me, the awkward girl who lists her job, her major, and her year when asked to share three interesting facts about herself for an icebreaker. No interesting talents besides the lame "I like to write..." or "I'm pretty creative, I guess." (For further elaboration, see my first day at Chipotle. Manager: 'What's one thing I should know about you? Skills, whatever.' Me: '...uhm. I'm good at smiling?')
