Today in Survey of American music I decided Pete Best is my new favorite Beatle. Sorry Ringo!
I have the habit of composing one line livejournal entries and never posting them. Consider yourselves spared. Now that I have regular internet access again and too much free time, things are going to change around here.
I completed the semester with flying workaholism and subtle hints of alcoholism. Lets just say I am lucky to be alive and I hope Apple didn't notice the tequila flavored vomit in my malfunctioning iPod. COLLEGE! That was the Friday before finals. The Friday after finals entailed my first kegger. I did not know I was going to a kegger. I was trying to make a drunk friend not pissed at me. As it turns out, England kids have normal college friends too. Gross. I made the mistake of telling drunk Jill it was my first kegger. Moments later I was suspended above the keg with a girl holding the tap to my mouth asking, “is this okay?”
How did I go from hating beer to a keg stand? Oh right, peer pressure and an inability to express personal convictions when most needed. I turn 21 a week from Friday. I hope to be a full-fledged wino by the end of the summer as part of my program to conform to more gay stereotypes. Can anyone recommend a moisturizer? Also in the vein of conforming, I bought my first pair of blue jeans in six years. My last pair of jeans were a size 38 pair of JNCOs. I wish I'd saved them for the forthcoming resurgence of 90s culture. I attach great significance to my new Target purchase. My life is changing! I am maturing! You can tell because I spent over $500 on a new bed and bedding yesterday. I could spend a week in a hostel for the price of my comforter. Maybe two if the hostel is seedy enough. The bed could more than cover domestic airfare. Speaking of domestic airfare, I have lots of it for free. I think Jess and I are going to New York in August. Anyone want to go to Seattle or Los Angeles with me? If not, I now have a full bed with an opening.
School is not yet over because I am taking six credits of May term classes. I have had a test and painting critique already. I have another critique tomorrow. My paintings are not finished. I am going to “go in early” (haha). I have made six paintings since last Monday. I plan to complete a series of 13 large paintings over the course of the summer (three done, ten to go). We'll see how that and my numerous other projects for the summer progress. After May term I am working 25 hours a week in the library and 15 hours a week in the Tweed as their graphic designer. I am still in shock they gave me the job. The interview had no questions. What do you do in an interview with no questions?! I do enough to make my life awkward. Professionals should not contribute. I also had an interview at Health Services which went very well despite not getting the job. I now believe a bad interview is a good sign. Bring it on future.
I have a new home off campus and no roommate for the summer. Visit! I will bake you things in my small gas stove, or do my best Sylvia Plath impression if you don't.*
I look forward to the day I escape Duluth, because entire columns in the local free paper are devoted to breakups of the exes of exes. Awkward dates from freshman year crop up in unexpected places and so do their diseases. Things would be worse if I still tried to find love online. I cannot make eye contact with strangers anymore. The Minnesota Driving Manual tells drivers to avoid eye contact with aggressive drivers. The manual also warns against using cruise control on slippery roads. In lieu of major failures in real-world application of driving knowledge, I passed the test and will receive my Minnesota license in the mail in about three weeks, thus severing me from South Dakota completely. Minus the bank account in the town I don't live in anymore. The only question I answered wrong was how many feet are you supposed to stop behind a school bus with the stop arm extended. The correct answer is 20 feet, not 50.
I think I might start my memoir with the sentence “My freshman year of college I was raped by a boy who flies kites.” The memoir, like everything, is a work in progress.
*I'm good at impressions. They involve me waving my arms and saying “I'm so-and-so, and I'm sooooo cool!”