Customs
Hello and good afternoon from the lovely--I think--MTSU campus, where I am currently sitting in front of a computer and trying desperately to find something to do since I located all my seats-available classes.
I typed a HUGE LONG thing under this LJ cut. Read it if you are as bored as I was typing it:
Yes, today is Customs, the once-campily-themed, now vague-university-traditional freshman orientation for Middle Tennessee State University. I have had an utterly dull but extremely productive morning (funny how those two coincide so frequently, isn't it?) and am currently passing the time by pecking away at the keys as loudly as possible--since I don't know how to type quietly. I'm waiting to attract sideways glances from suspicious students and advisors.
I am in a room occupied by potential digital animation, journalism, and digital media majors. From what I can see, this is an extremely diverse group--not the collective nerds of the accountants majors or the spiky-haired, vintage T-shirt liberal arts crew. We have a miniature gangstah in bubblegum pink (how very secure in his masculinity he must be!), a charming but rather ditzy athlete, a fuzzy-haired rocker-kid who hasn't said a word to anyone since I've seen him--and me, among others. I'm not sure how someone else typing this same entry would describe me. "Overweight Beatles-shirt wearing chick with the ugly bandana in her hair" maybe.
I was inordinately pleased to run into Hilary earlier. I hadn't seen a person I knew, aside from a kid I vaguely recognized from Mr. Netherton's ninth circle of hell Graphic Arts classes. We had an enjoyable "Neddy-bashing" session before the meeting with the deans, and in that moment we secured that fleeting and unique bond only attained by two people with shared hatreds in a large group of strangers. We mentally and emotionally clung to one another while maintaining a carefully-calculated physical distance until our differing majors separated us and he vanished across the courtyard to choose classes for his lofty major of Digital Graphic Design--or something like that.
They have grouped us into countries. I am in the Netherlands. For some reason, this makes me laugh.
I am feeling particularly literary at the moment--I attribute it to the scholarly nature of the air around any college campus, undimmed even by a student advisor from a fraternity cheerfully relating to us the story of how he flipped off a campus officer freshman year. Somehow that solemn aura of education hangs over the place like a damned smog--it's highly unpleasant and leads me to use words like "scholarly," "solemn," and "damned."
While waiting to register with our respective "countries" this morning I took some notes on my company, scribbled in the notebook I usually use to jot notes and doodles to Mo during RP.
I noted that of the several musical ringtones that I heard, I recognized only one and was pleased to note that it was Hey Ya. Most of them sounded distinctly hip-hop in nature I felt tragically uncool at not being able to even distantly place a title or a musician on them.
I noticed that the girl beside me for some reason reminded me of Tasha, and this made me want to talk to her, but I knew that she wasn't a crazy RPG-playing, folk-music-listening agnostic Minnesotan, and so I refrained and wished that I knew most of the people I knew online in real life so I could call them up from a payphone in the lobby and whine to them to wake up so I could tell them about all the people there.
I created an assortment of doodles and developed a hand cramp from leaning against the wall and propping the tiny notebook in front of my face to draw. The last picture in the book at the moment is a cartoon of me with my hands extended, drooling, zombie-style, demanding brains. It about sums up how I felt at that moment. Typing this up, however, has somewhat rejuvenated me.
I played dice with myself--I had an assortment in my purse from my last RP session, since I forgot to take them out--during the vice president's speech, and lost. I played again using d10s and won.
I am in sore need of a d20 that does not hate me. I have yet to roll above a twelve consistently on either die that I have. They're so cute though--a matched pair. One is red with white numbers, the other vice versa.
I have rambled long enough, and although it pains me to have to once again lapse into mindlessly staring at the screen, I have to.
If you read this--thank you. At least you made this semi-worthwhile.
I typed a HUGE LONG thing under this LJ cut. Read it if you are as bored as I was typing it:
Yes, today is Customs, the once-campily-themed, now vague-university-traditional freshman orientation for Middle Tennessee State University. I have had an utterly dull but extremely productive morning (funny how those two coincide so frequently, isn't it?) and am currently passing the time by pecking away at the keys as loudly as possible--since I don't know how to type quietly. I'm waiting to attract sideways glances from suspicious students and advisors.
I am in a room occupied by potential digital animation, journalism, and digital media majors. From what I can see, this is an extremely diverse group--not the collective nerds of the accountants majors or the spiky-haired, vintage T-shirt liberal arts crew. We have a miniature gangstah in bubblegum pink (how very secure in his masculinity he must be!), a charming but rather ditzy athlete, a fuzzy-haired rocker-kid who hasn't said a word to anyone since I've seen him--and me, among others. I'm not sure how someone else typing this same entry would describe me. "Overweight Beatles-shirt wearing chick with the ugly bandana in her hair" maybe.
I was inordinately pleased to run into Hilary earlier. I hadn't seen a person I knew, aside from a kid I vaguely recognized from Mr. Netherton's ninth circle of hell Graphic Arts classes. We had an enjoyable "Neddy-bashing" session before the meeting with the deans, and in that moment we secured that fleeting and unique bond only attained by two people with shared hatreds in a large group of strangers. We mentally and emotionally clung to one another while maintaining a carefully-calculated physical distance until our differing majors separated us and he vanished across the courtyard to choose classes for his lofty major of Digital Graphic Design--or something like that.
They have grouped us into countries. I am in the Netherlands. For some reason, this makes me laugh.
I am feeling particularly literary at the moment--I attribute it to the scholarly nature of the air around any college campus, undimmed even by a student advisor from a fraternity cheerfully relating to us the story of how he flipped off a campus officer freshman year. Somehow that solemn aura of education hangs over the place like a damned smog--it's highly unpleasant and leads me to use words like "scholarly," "solemn," and "damned."
While waiting to register with our respective "countries" this morning I took some notes on my company, scribbled in the notebook I usually use to jot notes and doodles to Mo during RP.
I noted that of the several musical ringtones that I heard, I recognized only one and was pleased to note that it was Hey Ya. Most of them sounded distinctly hip-hop in nature I felt tragically uncool at not being able to even distantly place a title or a musician on them.
I noticed that the girl beside me for some reason reminded me of Tasha, and this made me want to talk to her, but I knew that she wasn't a crazy RPG-playing, folk-music-listening agnostic Minnesotan, and so I refrained and wished that I knew most of the people I knew online in real life so I could call them up from a payphone in the lobby and whine to them to wake up so I could tell them about all the people there.
I created an assortment of doodles and developed a hand cramp from leaning against the wall and propping the tiny notebook in front of my face to draw. The last picture in the book at the moment is a cartoon of me with my hands extended, drooling, zombie-style, demanding brains. It about sums up how I felt at that moment. Typing this up, however, has somewhat rejuvenated me.
I played dice with myself--I had an assortment in my purse from my last RP session, since I forgot to take them out--during the vice president's speech, and lost. I played again using d10s and won.
I am in sore need of a d20 that does not hate me. I have yet to roll above a twelve consistently on either die that I have. They're so cute though--a matched pair. One is red with white numbers, the other vice versa.
I have rambled long enough, and although it pains me to have to once again lapse into mindlessly staring at the screen, I have to.
If you read this--thank you. At least you made this semi-worthwhile.