stunt_muppet

No really. Where'd it go, exactly? Because I don't think there was nearly enough of that month. I think we may have skipped a week or two somewhere.  

The little Outlook browser on my computer tells me that it's fair outside. When I went out for class, it was both very dreary and very rainy. I can't check without clambering onto my roommate's bed to look out the window, which feels a little awkward. So I guess that means I have to actually go outside to look. Shame that, since the rain was becoming a near-perfect excuse to not do anything today.

Thing is, when I'm not working (and I generally take Fridays off, unless I've got a gimongous load of work), I honestly don't know what to do with myself when I leave my room. I mean, I could take my computer or a book to the Union, but how would that be any different than just reading or writing in here? What am I supposed to do, just sit around looking hopeful and wait for someone to strike up conversation? Lurk around the Union like a creepy person until I find someone I know?

I am, however, starting to improve my social discourse skills. I have managed to speak to people I do not know in all but one of my classes, and the conversation generally lasted at least three sentences beyond general pleasantries. I'm starting to do more volunteering for my house as well, and I know at least a few people on a first-name basis.

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My uncle sent me a box today containing beads, turron, chorizo sausages, biscotti, herb tea, and cheesy popcorn. My plans today include calling him to let him know precisely how adored he is. 

Pixxi, expect a call from me today or tomorrow as well, because I haven't talked to you in far too long. 

Had my first test in Literary Analysis today. Am not sure how well I did, since I only barely managed to finish. I do not do well with essays that must be written in a 50-minute period, as a general rule. But I did okay on my first two paper-ettes in that class, so we shall see how that goes. 

Speaking of Lit Analysis, we just recently covered Freudian/psychoanalytic criticism. Aside from cementing my appreciation for the basics of Freudian theory but my firm dislike of many of the particulars thereof, it's made me wonder if dreams can possibly have as much meaning as Freud ascribed to them. I know that the whole point of dreaming is that the messages of the subconscious are deeply encoded and thus 'safe' to our conscious mind, but really, how much deeper meaning can there be in a dream where five-inch-long praying mantises are fighting equally-large cockroach things - until they notice, and start landing on, you? All that tells me is that I Don't Like Huge Bugs, Especially When They're Landing On Me.

Conclusion: I like Freudian theory better as a literary device than as an actual theory of the subconscious.

Still haven't bought a good birthday present for Daddy. But then, I also haven't left the campus since my last grocery-shopping expedition. I shall make the aforesaid acquisition my Saturday goal.

It is very cold in my room, and I'm not really sure why.