Sun, Sep. 7th, 2008, 02:16 am
Well, I have been at Prat's Institute for many moons (two weeks) and it has been...odd is the most accurate word.
The first week mainly involved orientation activities that me and CC skipped. Instead we went exploring and met up with the beauteous Ron Weasley and Drew, our friends at NYU. I fretted about architecture. I fretted about being antisocial. I fretted about Ron Weaasley no longer lurrrving me and moving on to pretty college hipster girls. I fretted so much the second night I retreated back into my dorm and cried and was very homesick.
But the Ron Weasley thing turned out all right, even though the first night me and CC slept over and we both took the floor. I haven't had to take the floor in ages. That just increased the frettage. But the second time, I came alone and I got the bed. And every time since. So I guess that's all right. Except college dorms have this annoying thing where you get limited overnight visits. Teh gay?
As for my roommate, I think I got lucky. She is Korean and hot and feeds me rice wrapped in seaweed and brought appliances and food and teaches me about the city. I like her a lot already. And she doesn't have any creepy habits, hooray!
And New York. Well. I've taken the subway alone a few times, which I neeeever did with the DC metro. So I'm proud. In two weeks time, I've learned there's not much to do that doesn't involve money. This is highly limiting. However, exploring is fun, and I've learned to navigate a small part of Manhattan. Time will heal all un-navigation.
The school itself is gorgeous but frustrating. Most of the population is one type: the Hipster. I've seen nice people, obnoxious people, quiet people. The classrooms don't have air conditioning. The cafeteria food is nice, but stops serving way too early. The bathrooms are aight. I enjoy living here (probably because I like Roommate so much, and having CC two halls away, and a pretty big bed for Weasley to fit in) and next week I may even enjoy classes, because after a little begging I got the parents to let me switch back to writing.
As in, SCOOOOOORE. Architecture is like my worst nightmare. Five years of physics projects, basically. And my physics projects in high school were like, "Oh, it's the night before this shit is due. I tie this banana to this ping pong ball, and presto amazo, my Self-Propelled Hovercraft!" Deeeefinitely not for me. Classes were terrifying. And, funny enough, full of Asian boys. I just sat there, numb and mostly bored, wanting to yell and scream because of the high degree of insanity in the situation.
So I hope this week will be better class-wise.
Funny things that have happened in New York City:
-me and Roommate went to Wendy's with her friend David and some really tall drag queens came in, saw us conversing merrily, and said "Oh go ahead and laugh!" People are ridiculously self-absorbed sometimes.
-the same night we met David's Taiwanese friend, whose name was Rob and who was sporting the coolest dreadlocks ever and nothing but baggy overalls. Basically the coolest looking person I've ever met. And really chill. We went to the art studio he's living in, which was (I'm bad with adjectives) also cool. The only downside is I also met their drug dealer friend named 40. Yeah. CREEPY.
-Why hasn't this kid shown up in my flist yet? http://www.youtube.com/profile_videos?user=Pruane2Forever
-Met these drunkParsons girls in an NYU dorm. They were dressed too foolish to believe--it crossed the line that seperates Hipster from Halloween--and they asked me if I was going to paint my room. Before I could answer, one of them said "I think I'll be covering my walls with posters of fashion icons." This is a perfectly respectable choice, but her voice made it sound like she was mocking the fashion weirdo stereotype. She wasn't. (I didn't like her anyway. She was very tipsy and raved on and on about Ron Weasley being a ginger. Go away.)
-A friend of Ron Weasley's roommate decided he would convince kids he was British. His practice session lasted till 2 in the morning that night and was the best thing ever. Couldn't stop laughing. He sounded like the pothead from Withnail and I.
-Today I experienced my first New York hurricane. Lots of rain. My shoes are still soaked. But if this is what they call a hurricane, well...
To sum up, NYC is awesome, my new classes should be significantly better than my old ones, and I am in lurrrrrrve. Of sorts.
Fri, Aug. 22nd, 2008, 04:57 pm
Righto, I'm off to college.
(As if I won't have a laptop with me.)
Tue, Aug. 12th, 2008, 07:27 pm
I leave for college in 11 days.
Hmm. I'm not very excited. Yes, I am going to New York City, and yes, I do get to study architecture (sometimes this seems like a good thing, sometimes not). During the school year, when I was a miserable senior who got no sleep and tons of homework, all I did was think eagerly of what's coming. But now it's summer, and an exceptionally fun and lazy and easy one at that, so I don't really feel like leaving at all. I wish summer could go on a few more months until I got sick of it and was happy to move on.
It's not a very good attitude to start college with, is it? I can't even muster up a George Orwell joke. In all honesty, I'd love to just fuck around and do nothing with my friends forever.
I'm going to miss them all so much--even the ones who are coming to New York as well, because I get scared that with classes and studying we'll never get to see each other. And I sincerely hope that I'm being irrational and that we do hang out a lot, because I have a huge crush on the beauteous Ron Weasley who happens to be attending NYU this fall, and we've been pussyfooting around it for 2+ months and SOMETHING NEEDS TO HAPPEN ALREADY. This is a highly odd and confusing romantic situation (lmao I just wrote that, didn't I?). Ay yiyiyi.
I think this is bar none the best summer I've ever had. I do not like to see it flitting by.
Okay, I just read the summary of that new/final Twilight book.
This woman needs to be hit by a truck before she can start a new series. I'm not being terrible. I'm just concerned.
I don't understand the psychology of these books. It's like she devolved from the cliche--but at least a cliche with a good message--of independent women/spunky women/etc that pops up a lot in teen lit all the way back to the medieval damsel in distress who just wants to be a good little wife. What the fuck? I don't usually give a shit about this stuff...but fuck, I'm mad. Like Hannah Montana isn't bad enough?
I hear a lot of parents let their girls read these books cause they were written by a Mom and there's no premarital sex. I think if I had a kid I'd rather have her reading smut than rubbish like this. Ugh.
Dear friends, I am quite convinced that I will become the greatest chronicler of our time. I tell myself this every morning when I wake up, every evening when I go to bed, every afternoon when I am playing bubbleshooter and thinking about how I ought to writing.
But sometimes I say, Self, there is a flaw in the plan.
Every great writer had feelings about things around them. Vague, but true. Like Dickens was pissed about poverty and class division, and Voltaire was pissed about silly people. I think. But what am I pissed about? Nothing concerns me. The Iraq War? Well, it's far...and I usually forget it's there at all, to be honest. Rising gas prices? I don't drive. And it had to happen sooner or later, I suppose. The election? Whatever.
I think maybe I haven't gotten the feel of the era down quite yet, if I am to be the mirror that future generations will see it through. I like other eras very much. I have read them well. They have come over for tea and we have chatted happily about the house, the kids, the stocks.
Then I think, Self, maybe that Big Crazy Idea of Our Time just hasn't happened yet. You think Dickens was born at the same time as the Industrial Revolution? You think silly people just popped out the moment Voltaire picked up a pen? Just wait, I say, just wait.
Though with the way things are going, it really seems like the future--the Big Crazy Idea--of our time is no future, Literally. This energy crisis...just seems like it will explode very suddenly in everyone's faces. Sure, other eras had their issues, but not on such a global scale. What's a little World War compared with everyone's faces melting off? I think I will end up writing about the Beginning of the End. Wouldn't it be funny to have been born at the death of universe?
Anyway, it's been a very bizarre and pointless week. This has had awful consequences concerning my bubbleshooter game.
Well, it has been a while. School's over and summer is probably going to be over far too soon, though it has so far been a good one (ignoring the one blight of going to the Shanty Shack in upstate NY with my family for a week). Today I saw my schedule for next year, which is making college and Pratt and the ambiguous presence of architecture in the future very very real. I am also panicking slightly, as the classes we take in college are apparently much, much longer than in high school.
I'm only slightly terrified, being only a slight coward. I mean. I never really thought past high school up til now. I had no idea I'd ever survive applying to college--mostly cause movies make it SUCH A BIG DEAL. (It really isn't, you don't have to be a rocket scientist or join 9506859 clubs to get into a school, unless maybe you think you'll die if you don't get into an Ivy in which case I recommend just skipping the whole process altogether.)
And now here I am, going to college. Er. Woo. I don't know how I feel (except for that slightly terrified part). I love the friends I have now. I don't see how anyone I could meet in college could be as interesting. Perhaps I will live the penitent life of a college hermit, and my amusing but lonely adventures will be written into a fine literary work of the era.
Hmm. I'll write more about summer adventures when it is not 1:30 AM.
Fri, Jun. 13th, 2008, 11:43 pm
Ah well. I suppose when one is being chased by putrid zombies, one has little time for altruism. What could I do but throw my dear friends Binky and Buster at those gaping zombie maws? I've always thought that an undead invasion merited the every-man-for-himself doctrine.
Still, it is awful lonely in this deserted internet cafe with only the ghost of dear George Orwell to keep me company.
GEORGE ORWELL: Harrumph! I wouldn't keep you company if you were the last bratling in this smelly hole of a town--oh, bother.
I think the corpses of trendy college kids just smell this bad to spite me.
See all you survivors on the flip side.
Well, I am quite disgruntled.
School is mostly over. All that's left is graduation and beach week and then party, party, party, right?
My benevolent kindly father has decided that I can only go to Pratt if I switch to their Architecture program. So now not only do I have to say goodbye to those dreams of writing for the next four years,
I also have to go to upstate NY with my dad and my uncle so that my uncle can help me make an art portfolio while the two of them work some more on our shanty shack.
So thusly I will miss graduation.
(NEVERMIND on that bit! YAY!)
The only way I can describe this is bogus. Utterly and unthinkably bogus.
I will be one of those adults who just sit around and regret that they didn't have the balls to stand up to their dad thirty years ago. Completely miserable.
utterly failing taking the last of my AP exams (Physics. Gag me with death) I am now able to gush about Prom.
Heh. It was nice having a hawt and sweet date, the beauteous Artist Currently Known as Ron Weasley. Yeesh, now I know why I never had fun at homecomings coming with a group of friends and vaguely dancing in a circle. Attending with a nice boy in tow is preferable; that thing they do with their hands on your hips is quite nice. Anyway, one prom down, two to go.
In other news, physics is a cunt. The weather is a cunt. My brother is a cunt. My sore and swollen throat with its feeling of the fiery weight of five melons is a cunt. Negativity is a cunt. Also, I have written my submission for a graduation speech about the Legend of Zelda. It ends with "San Dimas High School football rules." Needless to say, it is not going to be chosen to be read at graduation.
That's all right, though. I could never give a speech in front of 500 people anyway. Not without a pair of shades and a lot of curse words.