Do they make USB funnels? If so, please send one with a bottle of champagne.

Happy 3rd year, Blog.
I love you.

Neither of these stories are made up.

Let history write itself in such a way that it commemorates this weekend as the weekend I decided to drop out of college, go to trade school, and become a carpenter. And also as the weekend I still could not find the beat. After events last week (building a bookshelf, setting up speakers in my room, both by myself. Also important to note, the numerous times Sri and I have doublehandedly remedied a broken toilet) the trade school seed had been planted. Then, after arriving home from dinner on Friday night in a brief pursuit of ice, we found the tiny freezer inside the tiny fridge frozen into one complete solid block of ice. Kate and I decided that there was only one way to deal with such a problem: tools. And now, a photo montage:

We started with a screwdriver.

Then added a hammer:

A towel is sought for carnage:

And now a pasta scoop:

HUZZAH!

Until you too have hammer-chiseled and then pasta-scooped a massive chunk of ice from the backworkings of the freezer mechanism, you cannot know the satisfaction.

AND. Last night was spent at Roommate Kelsey's family's house eating not just real food that was not microwaved for 2.5 minutes or heated on a George Foreman grill, but the most delicious spicy pasta, meatthing, homemade bread and salad I have tasted since, well, a very long time. Plus we ate the salad last. Which, when you haven't left the country in over a year, is pretty much like being in Italy.
Walking into this house was not only a sensory explosion because it smelled so fantastic, but everywhere you looked and every corner you turned there was a musical instrument and a piece of art from one of their friends. Dinner was followed by an 11 piece rendition of Heart & Soul. Complete with 3 different kinds of drums, a rain stick, piano, guitar, didgeridoo, wooden frog and tambourine. Pictures and videos were taken by the 12th member and now I must go hunt down whoever that was.

Somsings.

Your head will explode at the end of this. I promise.

1. Sufjan. His titles are long, his content is hauntingly beautiful without me really knowing what he's talking about. But! Holland! This song! All lines are seven syllables! And relating to his college experience! I thought my capacity to appreciate things about this man had been capped at his degree in oboe and English horn.
2. A three-hour biology lab is not fun. It is less fun yet when your professor is so excited about natural selection and statistical data analysis that she forgets to put on deodorant.
   
3. If you are also confused about this AIG nonesense, pick up today's issue of The New York Times. There is a handy chart on the front to help you. Complete with arrows.
4. Which is worse: going to a meeting with disgruntled students who are trying to unite over thier mutual anger at the school's administration OR going to a school that has so many students angry at the administration?! Kaboom!
   

From a lemon to the non-gilded world

When I'm feeling down about the population at my school, I like to wear my "When life gives you lemons, you paint that shit gold" shirt and watch people's reactions throughout the day. Usually it's a combination of confusion and fear sprinkled with embarrassment.

Today, I was standing at a table advertising studying abroad when a sixtysomething year old man interrupted:
Man: Excuse me, are you a student here?
Me: Um, yes.
Man: At St. Kate's?
Me: ....Yes.
Man: Why are you wearing that shirt. (there was no question mark in this sentence)
Me: (insert eye roll) It's a band. Or, erhm. A group. A group from around here just put out a new album and this is the title.
Man: Ohhhh!
Me: Why?
Man: Because I graduated from St. Thomas years and years ago and we used to call you girls over here "Lemons". I wondered if they were connected.

Yessssss.
Profane t shirts: 1
Confused/afraid/embarrassed population: 0

Honesty is always the best policy

"Yeah, I read your blog. But sometimes it's boring, so then I don't." -Anna.

Lists, of sorts.

PHEW.
Please allow me to take three breaths before this post.

Hokay. So I get that the first week of classes is supposed to be insane, but it would be helpful if, upon registering, they would tell you two things other than the section and location of said class:

1. Books for this class will cost $________
2. This class will suck. Don't register for it and two others like it.
   

Anyway, after registrar juggling, arguing and stubbornness, I am now splitting my time with three different schools which will do me well to get away from GirlLand for a little while each week as the relationship has been extra tumultuous lately.
You will know where I've been based on my shoes:

• CSC: Chucks on their last leg.
• UST: High heels.
• MAC: No shoes at all.

The smaller-level GirlLand, or rather, the apartment is going quite well.

1. Rachel: 6'1", guitar, sings, works at Dunn Bros -> free bread, coffee beans. Yessss.
2. Kelsey: 5'0", bongos, guitar, works at hardware store -> free screws, nails, nuts. (Ha. The inappropriate has gone nowhere but up.)
   
3. Treza: 5'2", Shower-singer, works at writing center/paper editor -> free unsolicited writing advice, publishing of opinions.
   
4. Me: 5'6", Loud stereo, works in the President's Office -> free confidential information!
   

Kiss my ass, community showers.

Here is a brief photo montage of things that are defining my new apartment life.
1. Eli, Colin and The Decemberists. I have four Decemberists hanging things and not enough walls to make hanging them all appropriate. But, then again, when have I aimed for appropriate?
2. Tree. Because I have no headboard and removable wall stickers are the best thing to happen since they added gray to the full Sharpie set.
3. Behind my bed. This is where the glass framed picture of That Girl* and I that was hanging six feet over and four feet above this place. It fell in the middle of the night last night and was followed by yelling, confusion of both time and place, and for some reason, intense, sleep-stealing fear.
4. This is the color of our living room walls. We did not pick this entirely rancid color. But we did pick a name for it. "Salmon In Heat". We like the layers of that name.

*That Girl has a new home! Check it!