(And shout-out to my girls, Alyssa and Kelsey. Love ya, dearies!)

I have thirty minutes before lunch, so this is another quickie.

Tonight’s Rosh Hashanah—my first real attempt to visit temple since I’ve moved here—and tomorrow’s the Alpha Xi Delta cowboy dance party. Then, I have various errands to run and homework to do, making for a busy couple of days.

I’m also a smidgen worried about my first year seminar. As it turns out, I’m a B grade comic artist (NOOO) and I have tons of reading to finish before the semester’s worth of homework is complete. I already finished my Rhetoric curriculum’s reading (both recommended and required), but there’s still much to do for Art History, including an appointment with the Writer’s Center and Works Cited page for my essay.

So. Much. Stuff.

Aside from that, my friends, Kat and Kristen, created a crumpled paper-pet for Rhetoric. They tried to sell it to me yesterday, but since we can’t have pets in the dorms (save for goldfish, which would die in my care anyway) I declined.

It was a shame, though. It was cute in a quirky, mismatched eyes, random-daisy-popping-out-of-a-spinal-column sort of way. It would have made a cool pet.

Also, in response to a commenter, I spoke with Zach today his morals and the horrible things he could have done while I was gone for Labor Day weekend. He stopped by for a second and I asked, “Hey, Zach, would you hang my underwear to the door if I were gone?”

(The plants were fine, by the way. He watered the bonsai and majestica like I asked. They were a little brown, but the orchid blossomed, which was nice. He added ice cubes to the soil like I requested and even refilled the tray.)

Response: Shock and disgust.

“NOOO.”

“Somebody commented saying that.”

“I don’t want to see anyone’s underwear.”

“Alright then.” I typed our conversation on my computer. “I’ll defend you.”

This sentence is Zach’s official defense. I hope you’re happy, Zach. /thumbs up/

Yesterday, I also spoke with my Rhetoric professor about the recommended reading (Stiff, Mary Roach: a book about cadavers and how they become crash test dummies, medicine, fertilizer, and other amazing and useful things).

“Remember the part about the brains?” I asked. “They can be detached from the body and they live in a state of permanent memory.”

“Well it depends on your definition of memory. There’s physiological memory and memory as society interprets it.”

“What do you mean? Do they differ vastly?”

“Physiological memory is literally memory running lines through your brain. It’s like when military airplane fliers permanently ingrained the way they’re supposed to land on the docking station. If they come in from the wrong angle, they can drive their plane straight into it.”

We talked airplanes, memory and elasticity. I like how I can learn things at college even when I’m speaking recreationally.

Aside from all the stuff I’ve yet to finish, college is pretty awesome. You can have dance parties at midnight, watch free foreign films, buy physically impossible pets and do a ton of random, cool things.

It’s nice, and I love it bunches.

I did my laundry with Alyssa last night. She returned from Rush in this adorable purple dress with a pearl necklace and matching earrings. I looked like a hobo (albeit a fashionable one—the jeans were well tailored), but I didn’t mind. I like comfy, hobo-esque clothes—they keep you warm.

“I want to look like one of those 50s housewives—” said Alyssa “—the ones who do laundry in their dresses. Would you mind taking a picture of me?”

“Not at all,” I said. She posed with the laundry detergent. I took the picture with her camera. “It looks cute.”

“Let me see.”

I showed her the picture.

“That is cute.”

We talked about hometowns and her friends until the laundry finished. She told me how she and her friends compared themselves to the characters of Sex and the City.

“That’s interesting,” I said. “Most people compare themselves to the Disney Princesses where I come from.”

“We do that too, but I’m Charlotte. She’s the conservative, traditional one.”

I saw it, I guess, but I still preferred Alyssa to Charlotte.

“You know, I haven’t had any superficial conversations with you,” she said.

“I don’t really like them.”

She hid her face behind her elbow and spoke.

“Hey, there’s an echo. Do you hear the echo?”

“I hear the echo.”

“I guess we just had a superficial conversation.” She laughed.

The laundry finished and we carried it downstairs.

When I reached my room, I looked at the clock—1:00am—and crashed.

I woke to NPR. I had slept for six hours.

Because Zach requested mention in my posts, here’s his cameo:

Zach spoke with me before I left for today’s class. I asked him to water my plants while I was away for Labor Day weekend.

“Do I have to play Mozart for them?” he asked.

“Yes.”

(Mozart’s “Eine Klein Nachtmusik” boosts problem-solving ability by 15% for fifteen minutes. It also enhances plant growth. It’s also catchy.)

“Okay…”

(Zach doesn’t like “Eine Klein Nachtmusik”. He finds it “crappy”.)

I left for lecture, where I watched slides about petrified poop and decapitated birds. Then I went to discussion, where I learned about mud bricks.

I ran home after class and spoke with Zach’s roommate, Jimmy/James, an organic food lover. He offered me an organic Oreo, which I ate.

“Zach’s supposed to water my plants. Can you give him my key?”

“Yeah.”

I handed him my key.

“Use this wisely.”

I ran to the IMU and caught my bus. I took a three-hour nap on the way home.

I am tired.

PS: I drew a picture of my friend, Amanda, which I’ll post in the next update with another drawing. I don’t have it with me right now. Sorry for the wait. :<

            This is a quickie because I have class in twenty minutes.

            Yesterday was fun. I went to Drawn into Learning (which I love—for homework, I drew a portrait of myself and wrote an introduction for the class) and Rhetoric (which has an awesome instructor). I planned to pull an all-nighter, but that was unsuccessful because of a floor meeting. I sat next to a girl on my floor named Alyse, who wears the coolest, multicolored glass I’ve ever seen.

            “I feel bad because I missed the Hillel barbeque,” I said.

            (For those who don’t know, Hillel is essentially Jew club, and I didn’t miss the barbeque by choice—I got lost.)

            “No way.” She faced me. “I’m Jewish too.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah. Do you know any other Jews on our floor?”

            “There’s one other girl, but she doesn’t practice as much.”

            “Oh. Well, we should go to Hillel together.”

            “Yeah, definitely.”

            We listened to the speakers at the floor meeting and assembled in small groups afterward. I met this awesome kid named Dan, an awesome kid named James and another awesome kid named Zach. We stopped by my room with a few other writers (The boys were fascinated by my bonsai and majestica tree. Their awe was appreciated.) and then headed upstairs to the boy’s floor, where we created a writers’ handshake.

            “I drew a portrait of you on your door,” I said to Dan. “It kind of looks like Harry Potter, but whatever.”

            He ran to his door.

            “THIS IS AWESOME.” He ran back to me. “You’re my new best friend.”

            “Aw thanks. You’re my new best friend too. Can we be NaNoWriMo best friends?”

            (NaNoWriMo is a project in which you write a novel in November. It’s really fun and a lot of pressure. Sometimes people throw parties for it.)

            “No,” he said.

            I gave him my saddest face. He didn’t care. It looked like this: :<

            It was sad.

            Now it’s time to learn. Au revoir.

First Day of Class

Today I woke up at 6:00 and headed over to the IMU with a friend for breakfast. She had a friendliness about her that welcomed all sorts of people. We watched a rerun of Rachel Maddow and had a few laughs, after which we walked to breakfast.

We talked hometowns as she ate her citrus fruit and I devoured French toast covered in chocolate chips.

“Sometimes we have grizzly bear attacks,” she said. “A grizzly bear swims to the island and everyone freaks out. It’s pretty scary and awesome at the same time.”

“That’s really cool.” I ate some toast. “I wish we had stuff like that.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome.”

We finished breakfast and headed out. We walked to the Pentacrest and split at MacBride Hall.

“Well, here I am,” she said.

“Take care.”

I waved goodbye and headed for the library. The walk was sunny and hot, and the hill lengthened it a little, but I didn’t mind. The trees shaded the streets and I’d be inside soon enough.

As I waited for class to start, I discussed college with sophomore who reminded me of a lap cat (those cats who plop onto your lap as you read or watch TV—they’re cute and funny) and we sat together during the lecture. She gave decent advice—show up for class, keep up with the reading, ask more questions in discussion than in lecture—and being an unknowledgeable college freshman, I was happy to listen.

“If you don’t show up to class and keep up with the reading,” she said, “You’ll miss a lot of information. Some of the things on the test are only discussed in lecture and if you don’t read, you’ll find yourself reading 100 pages a night before the final.”

She laughed and said:

“I learned from experience.”

After lecture, I went to lab. The hill seemed harder to cross this time, and I went to the wrong classroom (Doesn’t anyone else think room 35 would be on the third floor?), so I entered late. It was a little shameful and everyone watched me…not the right way to start a new semester.

“I hate it when people are late,” said the TA as I took a seat. “It’s a sign of disrespect.”

Although the statement wasn’t intended for me (it was spoken as I entered), I still felt embarrassed. I was pretty silent the whole time and completed the homework before leaving, but I didn’t want to worsen my first impression, so I left as quietly as I came.

The hour between lab and lecture, a friend took me to this organic grocery store called The Bread Market. She got a sandwich and I had a truffle (it was cookies and cream—I highly recommend it). We talked about the origin of her incredible math skills as we walked to the Pomerantz Center. She said, “My parents didn’t start us off on books or anything. They let us go straight into math and science.”

“That’s really cool. I wish my parents did that.”

“My parents are big on education.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re professors.”

I thought that was pretty awesome. It seemed like all my friends who had professor parents head-started their education. I envied them a little.

We entered the auditorium and sat through an intense slideshow about fluffy dinosaurs; dinosaurs with wings and extended torsos; dinosaurs that came about with flowers and many other dinosaurs I can’t recall. We took a few notes, but we mostly watched the slides and listened to the professor describe their descendents, traits and many other things difficult to recall at 10:36 pm.

Generally it was a pretty good day. I got lost after class a couple times, but things worked out and I found where I needed to go. Iowa City needs some navigation, but after a while, the roads and buildings become familiar and everything falls into place. It’s a sweet little city with all sorts of people and lots of kids who play on the playgrounds and in the sprinklers of that cobblestone section by the grocery. At night, musicians come out and you can hear the bongos playing as you move from the business of class to the comfort of your home. The light of the bars can guide you back sometimes, and there’s always a crowd around if you need a conversation. Tonight there was a yellow moon that lit up the sky and everything tied together in a strange, lovely kind of way.

It’s nice, I thought as I headed home, and I think I’d like to stay here a while.