Oh Hello Philadelphia, it's Nice to Finally Meet You.

So I moved into college last Thursday and everything has been going pretty well. I've gotten the majority of my textbooks either used or from upperclassmen, I've seen hot guys and I've been hanging out with my new friends. Life is good. I just had my first day of classes today and I only have one tomorrow. And since I got here I've taken to getting the NY Times each day. I read Thursday's and Friday's papers (we don't get them on the weekends) but today I was much too preoccupied with the crossword to actually get any reading done. But that's ok. I think this is the farthest I've gotten in a NY Times crossword (or maybe ever). So I definitely need to get tomorrow's paper to figure out the rest of it. Tomorrow is going to be a good day (I think). I have class from 8am t 9:20, which isn't bad since I have the rest of the day FREE (same goes for Thursdays). Most people would prefer to have a single-class day start later so they can sleep in but I think it's best to get it overwith as quickly as possible so I can get on with the rest of my day. So tomorrow evening I'm heading out to the movies and then on wednesday night I might be hitting up a gay club (no, I'm not gay) and Thursday I'm going to the Temple vs. Villanova football game. I'm so STOKED for that. But I'll still get my work done. Pshh. I refuse to get horrible grades just because I have all of this freedom. I have plans that depend on awesome grades. So yeah. College will be awesome.

Untitled v.2

In January of lat year I had a disturbing dream involving my father and a gun. Two nights ago I had another dream along those same lines, only this time it involved my mother. We were planning to go to my aunt's block party on Sunday (which we did) so on Saturday night I had a dream. I dreamt that my mother had her car parked up the block facing the correct way, since it was a one way street (which is was on Sunday) and she and I and a younger cousin were sitting in the car. I was in the front seat and she was in the driver's seat and the younger cousin was sitting in the back seat directly behind me. I knew that we weren't leaving, we were just sitting in her car. So for some reason I got out of the car to bring this younger cousin (who upon further examination turns out to not actually exist in my real family at all) back to his mother presumably. I go to take him out of the back seat and it turns out that he's impossibly tiny. I mean, he could fit into one of my hands comfortably. He was small. But seeing as how this was in a dream, it didn't seem out of the ordinary to me at all. So then this white guy comes up to the car and closes the back seat door as I've just gotten my cousin out of the car. I just look at him with suspicion and awkwardly thank him as I walk away while still looking back at him. Then I see him get into the front seat of my mom's car and point a gun at her while telling her "Shut your shit..." and I don't know why I didn't go back to do something about it. I guess it's because I wanted to get my younger cousin to safety first. But in the dream the thought to help my mother never crossed my mind. The next thing I know, I'm sitting in my aunt's house on the floor with some of my other relatives and telling them what happened. I don't know how I found out this information in the dream but I somehow came across the knowledge that my mother's right thumb had been shot off by the guy. What the hell? Seriously. What the hell is wrong with me?

My Room

So I'm leaving for college next week. And naturally, what comes with leaving for college is the packing of one's belongings. Though I'm used to packing shoes and clothes and various other items for one trip or another, packing to leave for college is an entirely different ballgame. I've always known that I have a lot of stuff (and I mean A LOT) but it wasn't until now that I came to realize exactly how much. My room has been a mess for the past few weeks and normally I would pull myself together sooner or later to clean it up. On this particular occasion, it happened later rather than sooner. I'm not generally opposed to cleaning my room, it's just a matter of time and energy. However, I think I know why my inner procrastinator kicked into high gear now, of all times.

...(my room during the packing process of doom)...

I think it's because deep down, far away in the deep recesses of my being, I don't really want to leave. That's reasonable enough. I've been in that room for the past eighteen years of my life and now I'm suddenly forced (well...not really 'forced', more like highly encouraged) to pack up everything and leave to live in a space smaller than the one that I'm used to, while sharing it with a complete stranger. I'm excited but maybe I'm a little hesitant as well. I know for a fact that my dorm will not be as big as my room, it will not have wall-to-wall carpeting and it most certainly will not be painted mint green. But these are things that I'll have to live with. That's the point of going off to college, to be thrust most ungracefully out of one's comfort zone into a new zone that one can either choose to make comfortable and be happy or choose not to make comfortable and be miserable.

I don't think I'll have too much of an issue with that. The only question is, will my zone be comfortable with me?

Fucking Vampires

Now there's a new show coming out this fall called The Vampire Diaries. This annoys me. Ever since Twilight captured the otherwise almost-nonexistent attention of tween girls everywhere, every new novelist that wants to break out into the writing scene has made their own twosted version of Stephanie Meyers' bloodsucking romance. Now I'll admit I'm a fan of the Twilight novels, but that's where it ends. Just the novels; not those monstrous atrocities that Hollywood makes a pathetic attempt at passing off as the movie adaptations. I mean, isn't one teen almost-cannibalistic forbidden love affair enough?! I should not be punched in the face by a table full of Twilight knock-offs whenever I pass the New in Teen Fiction table in Barnes and Noble while I'm on my way to the True Crime section. And you know what the worst part is? The kids buy into it. They actually fucking force their parents to spend their money on these ridiculous books when those dead presidents could be put to much better use. Like food, clothing, BILLS! Meh. It doesn't matter. People need to make money any way they can, even if it means leeching off of someone else's ideas. It's been done that way for centuries and it will be done that way for centuries to come.