God, even when I’m not being awkward, I still come across as awkward.

My suite-mates are having some party deal in the commons of our room… some guys are over. I decided that I wanted to run outside and smoke a cigarette, halfway down the hall, I realized I’d forgotten my student ID and my key to get back in.

This wouldn’t be such a big deal if I hadn’t made eye-contact with one of the guys that are hanging out in the room, froze, and said “Oh shit.” I immediately turned around and went back into my room to grab my stuff, and this is what I hear:

“So your roommate, the short one, was coming down the hall. She saw me, turned right back around and went into her room.” This was followed by a loud roar of laughter from every damn person in my suite.

Okay.

So, I’m socially awkward. But I’m not THAT freaking awkward. Give me a little credit here, guys.

My timing sucks.

Congratulations , and welcome to the University of Rochester!

Hell yes.

I've been accepted.

There are no words to describe this feeling that I'm feeling.

Oh Blog, How I Have Neglected You...

I apologize for my distance, things have been crazy, but you've never left my mind.

Am I forgiven?

Oh, good then.

Anyway, since my last blog post (which will from now on be referred to as "Epic-BEDA-Fail"), several things have happened. I've graduated from the community college I've been attending (and led the freaking procession... who's a badass? This girl right here!), completely annihilated all of my finals, read countless books, took on more hours at work, and finished my various transfer applications - so far, with nothing to show for it.

So now, I'm simply waiting to hear from them, waiting to know whether or not I'll be able to leave my job dumping bladder pads, meat and tortilla shells into ("paper, or plastic?") bags, smiling so much that my cheeks feel swollen and freezing my toes off for $7.75 an hour, pack my bags and flee to the first college that mails me an acceptance letter.

As whiny and contrived as this may sound, I'm starting to feel like if I don't leave my area soon... I'll probably never get out of here. You know that Thomas Wolfe book, You Can't Go Home Again? Yeah... well... that doesn't quite apply to my town. It's essentially the Palm Springs of New York, and, while beautiful and quaint, it is still just a place where people come to die. I'm sure that once I'm gone and look back on all the time I spent splashing around in the three-foot-deep creek with all three of the teenagers that lived in town with me, drinking Busch Light and tequila under a pavillion at the Fireman's Park that nobody uses and watching Grounded For Life in my friend's basement every effing day of my freshman year of high school, I'll miss it.

Actually, no, I probably won't. What little time I've spent in cities has made me realize that that's where I belong, a place where everything is truly alive and going at all hours of the day, where there's always something happening and silence isn't an issue. Because, even though I plan on working with deaf people... they're the loudest group of people I've ever been around.

I want to be somewhere that will shake the death off of my skin, where I can stretch out my legs and explore a town that consists of more than three connected streets, a swingset and a post office. Somewhere where not everyone will know me, where I can just start over fresh and actually do things that make me happy without having to explain myself to everyone.

To quote Beth (also known as Ginger Tits and Jessica Rabbit), "[I'm] a goldfish...'cause [I'm] in a tiny bowl. So [I've] gotta get in a big bowl, and [I'll] expand and grow."

I need to switch tanks, because living in this tiny goldfish bowl is making me feel cramped.

This is my post for today.

Read two books.

About 2/3's through another one.

Hell to the yes.

I feel like god.

More of my books came in!

Thank god all but a couple were for my project, now I don't have to keep chomping down on my nails all nervous and stuff about not being able to get all of my books read and the write up finished before the due date. Or at least, I'm hoping I will. I've got a decent chunk of them read so far, but... guh.

And since we're talking about Lit classes, I haven't even started my World Lit paper yet, which will be a pain in the ass to write, as all of those papers are.

However, I did take a break from my school reading to read my copy of Saul Williams's ,Said the Shotgun to the Head. For those of you who haven't heard of it (I'm guessing quite a few of you haven't), it is a 180-something page poem about a man so blown away by a kiss that it completely rattles his brain frequencies. It's intense, and very quotable and I love it and, if I had enough skin I'd get the entire effing thing tattooed on me this. instant.

But since I don't, I can only dream... and possibly settle for one of my favorites, of which there are many.

I'm fairly certain my math professor was drunk or at least slightly buzzed in class today. I mean, he usually goes off on tangents and acts rather flamboyantly, plus, he's always bitching about how the 6:30-9:15 class cuts into martini time, but uh... pretty sure he had martini time a little early this evening, because... homeboy was nuts.

Other than that, I really don't have anything all that exciting to talk about. I still haven't found the time to read City of Fallen Angels, which freaking slays me, because I've looked forward to this book for what feels like ages and it's just sitting in my room taunting me.

Gonna end this now, it's as close to a proper blog post as I've gotten in a few days, so... enjoy!

More to come tomorrow.

Too exhausted to blog.

Guinness cupcakes were a success.
Other than that, today = pretty boring.

Happening Now.

Guiness Cupcakes. Heck yes.