"A roll of duct tape, WD-40 / Ain't nothin' too loose or locked too tight for a man like me." -- wisdom from both Dierks Bentley and my childhood

...And we all know that whenever we hear the words "too loose," we think of my roommate... whose first name I will not use at any point during this entry. Don't pretend to understand, unless you read her comment on my last post, in which case I guess you can pretend, but you don't. Hah. Occasionally, I may refer to her as "that girl."

FINALLY I HAVE MY GRADES BACK. I did in fact pull off an A- in Spanish, which brings the WORST SEMESTER EVER to a pretty good close. But enough about happiness; I'd like to take this opportunity to rant about the evils of credit cards and lying saleswomen.

Maurice's is one of the few stores in our mall. I really do mean "few"; the only clothing stores in the Southgate Mall are JCPenney's, Belk's, Style Setter (the display window usually sports torn-up shirts with a Playboy logo), and this one. Over Thanksgiving, I was approved for a Maurice's credit card, and since I'm all about A) building my credit and B) Maurice's jeans, I spent about $175.

The woman who worked there (who is Satan, by the way) told me that I would not receive a bill for two billing cycles "because of Christmas"; she further clarified that two billing cycles translated into sixty days. I figured that I would pay it back after Christmas since I'd have a couple paychecks from my transcription, as well as Christmas money, as well as the money left over from my crazy semester of work.

At some point during exams, I called my parents, and they informed me that an envelope had arrived from Maurice's (a local clothing store). Keep in mind that it hasn't even been a MONTH since my shopping spree, let alone TWO. I figure that it's just my card arriving and tell my parents not to worry about it.

On the twenty-first, I finally got down to going through my mail... to discover that the envelope contained a BILL informing me that the twenty-second (i.e. the next day) was my last opportunity to pay the first installment.

Don't get credit cards, kids. Just don't.

A half an hour later I'd paid the whole thing off, and, much calmer, came back to check the rest of my mail... and found a bill from the only other store where I have a credit card, telling me that I owed about $10, which is crap, because the last time I was in the store I made a purchase, checked my balance, and paid everything off.

Conclusions: Credit cards spend themselves and salespeople are incompetent. If they explicity tell you that you have no balance, they're lying. Your card has gone to the store behind your back and bought itself a lovely pair of earrings.

Far be it from me, however, to leave you with the impression that my break has been sullied by these events; everything's paid off and my payments were on time, so it's all good. More to the point, I'm heading to Avon in a matter of days and going clubbing in Virginia on Friday night. Life is good.

My great-grandfather ran a general store in Avon for years. It's been closed since he went out of business. I'm thinking seriously about reopening it. Since Avon is, fortunately or unfortunately, a tourist town, most businesses are only open for the summer -- perfect for a college student's schedule. Crystal and I would split the work (and the profits) between us, and since we know a multitude of talented people who would be interested in selling their goods (everything from wicker chairs to paintings to jewelry to clothes), we have a variety of stock we could sell. And it's an excuse to live in Avon for a summer, working days and surfing mornings and, hell, probably working nights at the pizza joint just to stay afloat and living -- living a dream and knowing you're satisfied.

Spring in DC, summer in Avon, fall in Germany... it might shape up to be an interesting year.

Finally, because it deserves to be said: Secondhand Lions is one of the best movies I've ever seen.

(Okay, fine... The Roommate/That Girl is pretty cool. This may not be an entry "dedicated" to establishing her quantity of awesome, but it does in fact mention it, and you have to take what you get. So there.)

Kenny Chesney understands.

^ Words I never thought I'd write. If you have any love for the beach in your soul, go pick up "Be As You Are," his second most recent CD. I, meanwhile, am going to indulge said love on Saturday with a week long vacation-within-a-vacation in Avon, when the town is blissfully free of tourists, somewhat desolate in the grip of winter, and incredibly cold, the kind of cold where the wind cuts you open and splashes salt water in your gaping wound while cackling, "Just HAD to come to the beach in January, didn't you? Sucker!"

The only remaining tie to the hell that was last semester is the insensitive little dash where my Spanish grade should be. Damn you, My American Dot EDU. You know that no matter how much I try I can't shut off the voices in my brain arguing about whether I still have a shot at an A in that class. You want me to torment myself. That's cool. After all, if our positions were reversed, I'd gladly gore you with a stake.

Speaking of gore, my Christmas present to Crystal was the Brothers Grimm DVD. It was surprisingly disturbing. A kitten got kicked into a machine made of blades and got sliced and diced. It was not Christmassy at all. The only way I've remained a functional, nontraumatized human being is convincing myself that it was a robotic kitten, with fake, Jell-O blood. The movie was good, though; I recommend it highly.

My room is a complete mess. I know I won't be here long enough to unpack my clothes, but it's kind of ridiculous to keep them crammed in a suitcase, so I compromised and scattered them all over the floor. The last three or four times I've been to North Carolina, I've promised my parents that I'll clean up before I leave... it never happens. I always rush off in a hurry, leaving a more-than-partially-concealed hardwood floor. I would say that it won't happen this time, but there would be no point.

My country music binge has continued, earning me such friends as Dierks Bentley and renewing my appreciation of Toby Keith. I pity my roommate.

...or season's greetings, or happy holidays...

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

"No need to rush, folks; we're home now."

Hear ye the wisdom of the train conductor as we pulled into Newport News, Virginia; he spoke the truth.

I slept about ten hours last night and the night before... I don't even know what to do with that. It feels illegally good. On the down side, my nightmares are back... but that's cool because I'm sleeping when I have them.

Driving downtown with the windows down and the radio up is STILL the best form of therapy ever; I am already more human. My car's engine alternately purrs like a kitten and roars like Aslan in the new Narnia movie, and if you've seen that movie, you know exactly how awesome that is.

One of the families I sit for in DC has a Mercedes that I got to drive on my first day, due to a slight mix-up with the other cars. Compared to my Lumina, that car was possibly the least fun vehicle ever. I tapped the brakes and it practically skidded to a halt; I tapped the gas and it accelerated without a murmur. I understand that these bland cars are fashionable, but I want a car with an engine that roars at thirty-five but can hit a hundred without a problem.

I just want ONE more bypass joy ride and then I'll be happy.

I still haven't done all (read: any) of my Christmas shopping. *cringe* I'm just not sure what to get everyone; I know what I'm getting my two grandmothers and my mom, but I'm drawing a blank on almost everyone else.

I am slowly falling in love with the South. There's a very genteel Southern accent that some of the older women here have; I wish I could perfect it. I've also redeveloped my taste for country -- hurrah!

I'm entering a pool tournament on Monday night. *crosses her fingers* It's $12 to enter, but the pot's decent... I don't think I'll win it this time, but I'll be entering a few more times before I leave. Wish me luck.

And now you CAN wish me luck, because I turned the comments back on (just for people with blog accounts, though), at least until the spam starts up again.

Just twiddling my thumbs...

I'm here to take my exam, which I thought was at 10:00... I was certain the professor had forgotten, but apparently he had said 10:30, so now I have twenty minutes to sit in Clark going "GAH! VIETNAMIZATION!", which would be incredibly counterproductive, so I'm just going to play Reversi.

Anxiety. So much anxiety. I want it to be 1:00 already. I know my material, but I'm worried that I'll blank or something. Honestly? I'm just worried I'll miss my train. I want to be gone. I want to be out of here. Anxiety.

I may be freaking out a bit excessively, but as long as I'm calm enough to take the exam, I'm okay with that.

I want to be home.

One more dance, and I'm like yeah...

I hate Usher with a passion, but I still can't get this song out of my head.

I'm getting over a crushing illness that has sporadically involved fever, chills, loss of voice, coughing-to-the-point-of-near-death-experience, and a cold.

I have a Spanish exam tomorrow (today?) at 8:30 and a Justice exam at 11:20. I have an Analysis of US Foreign Policy exam on Tuesday at 10:00. I have a train to catch at 2:30 and then I will be gone.

I have an A- in my Theories of Democracy class (which I'm furious about because supposedly I got an 83% on the final after a solid semester of nothing-but-A work and I KNEW my crap, rahr, I want some justification for that grade but then again an A- isn't so bad). I am checking the online posting compulsively to find out what I got in Macro, but so far, no word.

I have a fantastic idea for a novel and I can't wait to sketch it out.

One way or another, by 2:00 tomorrow, I'll be nearly-almost-sort-of free.

Hiatus

Due to the mounting stress and/or hysteria of exams, I'm going to be staying off AIM except when necessary for academic reasons (i.e. communicating with a study group, etc.). I will also be checking only email that appears related to my classes and absolutely necessitates reading. I'll still be available by phone, but if I ignore your call, it's only because I'm dying, not because I don't like you.

Macro exam in an hour. Less than three hours of sleep last night. The first line of this post was originally "due to the mounting stress and/or hysteria of demand," which probably means I've spent too much time thinking about markets and the individual hand... wait, the invisible hand...

AAAAGH!

The Continuing Saga of RepairKat!

...as opposed to "Repairwoman," which is too politically correct for me.

The family whose computer I fixed last week got me to come over today to fix another one. It took me three and a half hours to get it working again; the operating system had been so corrupt that originally I couldn't even turn it on, and after that I couldn't open Explorer. However, I taught it to respect the Kuhls by smacking it with my iron fist, and now it's running like a dream.

I have a bunch of work due tomorrow in Spanish, including a presentation. Eeeeh. Oh well; soon it'll be over. More to the point, I am terrified of the debate happening tomorrow night.

For those at AU: 8:15 tomorrow, in the McDowell formal lounge, Prof. Brenner and I will be debating Prof. Quainton and Zak about whether the US should leave the Venezuelan government alone. There will be free pizza. Join us!

I'm bubbling with energy. I'm seriously scaring myself, so I pity everyone who's talked to me in the last half hour.

Solstice

And just like that, winter's here.

She's full of addictions with a cannonball smile
That whispers snow spells 'til midnight
I pray I'm there when they come true
I've got some dreaming of my own to do

So guess how much work I got done last night?

That's right. Zero. I could look at this as a negative thing, or I could look at it as a blessing; one day, when I have some kind of high-power job and my boss dumps two extra projects on me a few days before the deadline, I'll know what to do.

And just what is that? Well, I'd love to go into it, but I'm not sure who reads my journal.

On a similar note, I'd also love to go into something that's annoying the hell out of me, but I went through enough drama last year not to write specifics.

Sadly, this is actually reminding me of a theory from Theories of Democracy class: we do sort of have free will, but there are so many outside considerations, so many societal pressures, etc., that our behaviors are regulated nonetheless. This is perfectly exemplified by the fact that even though it's my blog, insert "no one can tell me what to write!" rant here, there would be so many bad consequences that I'm essentially prevented from writing what I want anyway.

So, if anyone takes Peach's class next year, there's an example you can use in the class discussion.

My Justice prof emailed me back and told me that I couldn't move the date of my exam; in other words, even though every other exam falls during "study week" and I could be home by Friday, I have to stay for the entire weekend just to take a freshman-level exam, and my parents can't pick me up on their way back from NH. Eh, it could be worse, I guess. I'll have some extra study time, and I'll be able to study with Ash instead of working on my own.

I'm expecting finals week to be a very creative time, because I have a tendency to have tons of plot ideas when I should be doing something else. When I was writing my US Foreign Policy paper on Wednesday night, I also wrote an excerpt that has become one of my two favorite sections of Guardian. So, although finals week will no doubt be filled with horrible angst and insomnia, at least I'll get something important done...

...And speaking of getting something done, I need to get to that Macro reading, and then to that Macro paper writing, and then to that Theories of Democracy reading, and then to that Theories of Democracy paper writing, and then to that Spanish presentation writing/practicing...

You know what gets me through this? The promise that, very soon, I will be in Avon.

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
Strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind
Pretend that I am weightless
And in this moment I am happy...happy

I wish you were here

I lay my head onto the sand
The sky resembles a backlit canopy
With holes punched in it
I'm counting UFOs
I signal them with my lighter
And in this moment I am happy...happy

I wish you were here

"Yeah, these die are totally weighted. Clearly you're part of an underground gambling ring. Your game is up and I'm gonna tell your parents."

Tonight I babysat the coolest kid EVER. For those who read Animorphs, he was mini-Marco: hilarious and sardonic. As soon as I got there he looked at me, went up, got the DC version of Monopoly, and started laying out money. Now, despite my intense heartage of Monopoly, I haven't played in years. AND I GOT TO BUY UNION STATION. DANCE DANCE. He informed me that I was not like other babysitters at all, but he seemed to like that, so... yay?

More for my benefit than yours... I present a to-do list.
-Narc work every night until this Sunday, and possibly a little more afterward
-Monday: Spanish presentation, Macro paper, & Theories of Democracy paper #1 on reading that will be absorbing my life tomorrow; meeting w/US Foreign Policy professor for the on-campus debate
-Tuesday: Babysitting from 12:30-5:30
-Thursday: Spanish debate, Theories of Democracy paper #2
-Friday: Babysitting from 12-6
-Saturday: Babysitting from 7-12
-Monday: Theories of Democracy final
-Tuesday: Babysitting from 12:30-5:30
-Wednesday: Intro to Justice final, if he lets me move it
-Thursday: US Foreign Policy & Macro finals
-Friday: Spanish final & HOME!!

The list doesn't look that bad written out, which is exciting. And soon... it shall be done.

Lately I have been on an Eve6 binge... mainly because they have lyrics like this:

Lay off the coffee and the Kafka and the coughing
Lay off the means to an end
And mean what you say more often
-"Still Here Waiting," Eve6

I'm officially procrastinating now, so off to work...

I have marketable job skills!

Oh, the exciting life of the babysitter. No, I didn't get to watch the kids enact any more scenes from horror flicks; however, I did star in a special flick I will be calling The Engineer's Daughter.

When I showed up at the family's house (my Tuesday job, so not the family that owns the Amazing Locker Boy), the father hadn't left yet. On his way out, he asked me if I knew anything about windows; I thought he was going to ask me to wash them, and contemplated the idea of running away before realizing he meant the computer platform.

Apparently his internet had been down for quite a while, and he'd been working over the last few days to get it fixed. He had the option to get someone from his office to come by, but he'd get charged about $150. I gamely agreed to take a look, so he gave me instructions to call if I made any progress and left.

The boys were at school and the girl was asleep, so my options were A) SIS reading or B) working on the internet connection. I chose B and started tinkering around. Within about a half an hour I had the computer online and called to tell him as much.

He called back a few minutes later with a proposal. The computer that had been hooked up belonged to his office; he'd been trying to use that one because his home computer ran Windows 98 and he could make no headway getting it set up. So, he told me, if I could fix the Windows 98 computer, I would receive monetary compensation.

I <3 fixing computers. I also <3 money. I hooked up the other computer. After about two hours (interspersed with, you know, actually watching the kids I was babysitting), I got it online. This was quite an accomplishment, because setting up a LAN on Windows 98 is a bit of a challenge and this computer was as old as a fine wine. So I did a little happy dance. In my head.

Today I made an extra $50 for doing something I love.

Da-da-da, can't touch this!

[/geek]

In conclusion, apparently my gothy "I only live in my computer..." stage was good for something. And so was growing up with an engineer daddy.

When I was about 13, my Dad installed NetTimer -- a program that gave each family member a username and password. Dad and Mom could be on the internet as long as they wanted, but when I was logged in, NetTimer would cut off the dial-up connection after two hours.

Now, I absolutely lived on MSN Messenger and fanfiction.net at this point in time, so this new policy didn't sit well with me. However, I was helpless before the awesome power of NetTimer, which could not be shut down without Dad's password.

After a day or so, I realized that Ctrl+Alt+Del would override this need for his password, and gleefully exploited my loophole for a couple days. This led to one of the most fantastic conversations of my childhood.

[MiniKat is surfing the web. EngineerDaddy enters.]
MiniKat: Oh, hey, Dad. You want the computer?
EngineerDaddy: Yep.
MiniKat: Kay. Hold on, just let me shut off NetTimer so it won't bug you.
EngineerDaddy: *smugly* You can't do that without the password.
[MiniKat, who is also a rather smug individual, Ctrl+Alt+Del's the program. It asks for the password.]
EngineerDaddy: See?
[A box pops up saying that NetTimer's not responding and asks if MiniKat would like to terminate it. She does so.]
EngineerDaddy: ...
[MiniKat grins.]
EngineerDaddy: ...
MiniKat: Muahaha!
EngineerDaddy: ...Give me that.
[MiniKat runs off full of glee.]

He uninstalled NetTimer shortly thereafter. Six years later, I'm STILL gloating.

"Who is it, Katie? I mean... Rusty?"

Yes, folks, my dad actually called the dog by my name. It was not my proudest moment. But apparently...

...I just can't compete with that.

I just cranked out the quickest BS of my life: "reading" 30 pages for Theories of Democracy and writing a 2-page "reading response" paper in under an hour. Yeah, that's right. And I didn't even have caffeine.

When I ask my friends how Thanksgiving break went, they usually say "Eh, not much... I slept a lot." This makes me outrageously jealous. People, don't take sleeping for granted. One day you could be like me. And trust me, it sucks to never sleep. I have the worst sleep deficit ever owning my life right now, and I missed the golden opportunity Thanksgiving offered to catch up with it, because I was hanging out with the Crystal person who was at my house... somehow, we got through Thanksgiving break without mocking a SINGLE Lifetime movie. I feel cheated.

The rest of this semester will be a whirlwind of papers, presentations, and intense sadness. However, I can't wait for break. If all goes as planned, Roz will visit me at some point; also, Crystal and I will fly out to Portland to visit her family and stay there from December 28 until January 9. It will be my first time on the West coast. I'm excited! And I'm going to find a way to get to the beach if it kills me, which it shouldn't, because I believe we're visiting San Diego anyway.

Squee.

However, I've gotta say... what I'm looking forward to most about break is definitely the sleep. At this point I would sell my soul for a good sixteen hours.

As a side note, I represented you all today during a brief chat with the IT help desk:

"Hi, I'm calling about my wireless connection. My computer is connecting, but Cisco, which, by the way, is the MOST USELESS PROGRAM EVER WRITTEN, isn't."

(In case you're wondering, although my computer is obviously letting me online, Cisco still isn't working. I hate that program with the fire of a thousand suns.)

Finally, tasering an 11-year-old is wrong? Man. There go my babysitting jobs.

Resolutions for the Rest of the 2005 Calendar Year, or Ways to Avoid Dropping Out

1. Spend less time with friends.
2. Spend more time downtown and less in Tenley/Friendship; also, spend more time off-campus.
3. Attend concerts. Go clubbing. Have fun.
4. Cook more, i.e., refuse to sacrifice myself on the Tavern/TDR Altars of Convenience.
5. Spend at least two hours a week working on actual assignments... why does the voice in my head think this is unrealistic? That's NORMAL.
6. Make non-free time more productive in order to enjoy the actual free time.
7. Keep a tighter reign on the finances.
8. Fix my relationship with my family as much as possible.
9. Learn not only to prioritize, but also to do the resulting priorities.
10. Paint. Draw. Write. Make earrings. Make purses. Take photos.

And, my only resolution for the coming year --
* Take riding lessons.

I've gotta say, watching the kid I was babysitting involuntarily reenact a scene from Saw was not a good experience.

The family in question shall be referred to as the Fridays, because A) that's the day I sit for them and B) I doubt they want to be connected with the following story.

After a long walk, by which I mean a bus ride because I left the dorm way too late, and a nasty Starbucks sandwich, I arrived at the Fridays' house. I was informed that I had a list of errands to run, including but not limited to taking the youngest, whom I'll call Bob, to a birthday party for one of his friends. Let me note here that these friends, much like the Fridays, are rather wealthy, and that this party was being held the bowling alley of a country club.

I drove there in heavy DC traffic, happily weaving through the cars that would have liked to pass me, if they were cooler, and ignoring Bob's cries that I should use the map because otherwise I'd get us lost. Naturally, I got to the country club early, because I know my way around cities I've never even been to (kudos to those who get the reference), and we made our way into the bowling alley, which was in a basement...

FILLED WITH TWENTY SCREAMING SIX-YEAR-OLDS.

I'm not exaggerating. I COUNTED.

AAAAAAAAAARRRRGHHH!!!

I kept a pretty close eye on Bob during the hour and a half we were there because he's allergic to wheat and therefore couldn't have any cake (don't feel too bad - he practically OD'ed on frosting). However, when he and his friend Nicholas, the birthday boy himself, wanted to play in the men's room, I decided to give them their space. I called my mom and chatted for about ten minutes, really beginning to wonder what they were up to...

...When Nicholas ran out crying.

Assuming that Bob had caused some mayhem, I arrested Nicholas and demanded to know what was going on. Would you like to know what he said?

"Bob shut himself in a locker... and he can't get out... WAAAAAH!!!"

Kay.

I bolted into the men's room. Desperate screams and sobs echoed off the tile walls, guiding me to the lockers at the back of the room... AND THE BLOODY ARM POKING OUT OF ONE OF THEM.

I'm not into gory films, but I know that scene has been in at least a few of them. Picture it... splotches of blood dotting a pale arm trying to claw its way out of its grey-green prison... the terrified eyes of the captive... the hellish screams rattling the walls...

Did I freak? Well, relatively speaking, no. I tried to open the door, failed miserably, tried to crack it enough to free his hand, failed again, ran outside and located a janitor, who accomplished the above in short order.

I took Bob back downstairs and practically covered his arm in ice. As it turned out, what I had thought was blood had actually been red marker from fooling around earlier at school... but you must understand, the red marker was very realistic. Don't judge me!

Although no worse for the wear, Bob refused to believe that this story would ever be funny to him. Interestingly, it was funny to everyone else.

Stress sucks and it brings me down.

It has been an eventful day.

Yesterday it occurred to me that I had yet to do my field trip for Justice; interestingly, the field trip reaction paper is due on the 28th, the Monday after Thanksgiving. The field trip itself is "watching a trial procedure" at a court. Notaby, this is Wednesday, I have class all day Thursday, babysitting all day Friday, class all day Monday, and I'm going home early on Tuesday. See any room in there for a court procedure? No. No, you do not.

Tomorrow I'm skipping all my classes and going to a trial, and then coming home and writing like mad to get the paper that should have been due around 1:00 tomorrow afternoon in by midnight tomorrow night (**intense worship of that professor**).

Then at least part of this nightmare will be over. However, my computer will still be infected with two files that only wiping the hard drive clean will remove... I'll be doing that over Thanksgiving, so let's hope my computer survives until then.

There's a bunch of other stuff I can't get into in a public journal, so let me just say: I suck as a person. And bleh.

I can't wait for this semester to end.

Standin' in line to see the show tonight...

Tonight was a genuinely good night, one of the best in a long time.

I would like to begin this entry by saying that Ash is my favorite ever and I love her, so please don't mistake any of the following as me being dissatisfied with her as a roommate. Since I have to have a roommate, I am very glad it's her.

That said, I LOVE MY SOLITUDE.

My depression has completely evaporated in the past two days. It's wonderful. I figured out why I've been having so much trouble with the season change and how to combat it; I'm also making up my sleep deficit and enjoying writing again. Truly, this is an amazing experience.

I love coming back to a room that's mine. This was one of the bonuses of Anderson 434 (bonuses that, I might add, were few and far between)... I had complete privacy. My roommate was never, ever there, and I essentially had my own room. True, I hated having my own room, because it meant I had to deal with the neighbors by myself, but it had its ups. Lisa, my roommate last semester, was constantly out studying, so it was a similar situation. In contrast, Ash is always in the room. It works because we get along well. Nonetheless, I think I'm resolving to spend more time off campus, because I'm more productive there, as well as more relaxed. So that's exciting.

Of course I'm still looking forward to her glorious return... the empire will once again be whole. Muahaha.

Tonight I worked the NARC from 7:30-2:30... well, that's what I'll be getting paid for, but I actually kept it open until after four. I had a great time. Various members of McDowell 7 (who are quite fun) were in the room for the majority of the night. I caught up with Sam, met a few interesting people, watched Batman Begins for the 432nd time, and played several good rounds of pool. Even better, I wrote about 2300 words on Guardian, and I'm now on a chapter where the action picks up. HUZZAH! I'm looking forward to resuming my writing when I'm done with this entry. (1100 more words to go tonight.)

I can't remember the last time I felt this good. I love the silence.

I <3 my major.

My group had a presentation today in US Foreign Policy, so I had to do an insane amount of reading today. However, I did a week's worth of reading in a little over two hours. This puts my USFP workload in perspective... it looks bad, but it really isn't. Besides, it's incredibly interesting. Nonetheless, I feel like an idiot in that class. I don't seem to get the professor's questions. (For example, he asked where it had been said that the Japanese had done something, and I was like "Um... our reading?" Apparently the correct answer was "the textbooks used in Japanese schools.") I want to talk to him and ask what I should do to get caught up with the rest of the class in terms of extracurricular knowledge... but I'm sort of afraid of him. He's brilliant, and I barely participate in that class because I am quite afraid of his opinion.

It's encouraging, though, to realize that despite my angst, I'm (probably?) in the right major.

I have been dreaming of Berlin. In my dreams, my AU friends are there taking everything in with me. I'm a little nervous about going to a new university (well, not new - I have been at die Freie Universitaet before... hee... I feel so cool saying that) without them. However, welcome to the real world. Gotta get out sooner or later. I want to spend a year, but I'm not sure if that's realistic.

Life seems to be settling down a little bit. The year is winding down. I've already registered for next semester, and I'm taking such fantastic classes as American Defense & Security Policy, International Economic Policy, Honors China, Japan, & the US, Honors World Politics (groan), and Microeconomics (groan). I would like to find a way to throw German Conv & Comp II in there, but we'll see... that would require overcoming quite a few barriers, like the fact that I haven't taken the prereq. Heheh.

I'm so excited about fall of '05 being over.

(And about writing EVER SO MUCH on Guardian!)

My attempts at an entry couldn't say it as well as the song.

It's sitting by the overcoat, the second shelf, the note she wrote
That I can't bring myself to throw away, and also
Reach she said for no one else but you, cause you won't turn away
When someone else is gone

I'm sorry 'bout the attitude I need to give when I'm with you
But no one else would take this shit from me, and I'm so
Terrified of no one else but me
I'm here all the time, I won't go away

Hey, it's me -- I can't get myself to go away
Hey, it's me, and I can't get myself to go away
Oh God I shouldn't feel this way

It has, indeed, been a long day.

I'm pretending it's better because I don't know how to say that it's not.

I say that I enjoy lying about how I feel; in reality, I have no idea how to stop.

I have never felt so alone.

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard!" "I don't get what she means by 'milkshake'... can you explain it to me?"

So yeah, I actually had to explain that song to my roommate... afterwards, she sort of screamed/cried her way back to sanity... it was hilarious.

On Friday, Ash and I metroed it up to the debate tournament at Gee-Dub. How exciting for us! Although Ash was quite happy with how the tournament went -- and she should be, as she's improving rapidly -- I was furious with myself for my own performance. I'm becoming increasingly frustrated with debate. Unfortunately, I can't see a way to improve. The practices are oriented toward the novices, not the varsity, and they're not helpful at all. I'm thinking about getting a debate coach, but that would be expensive, not to mention time-consuming.

As an example of why debate is upsetting me, let me tell you about my last case on Friday. The opposing team ran a resolution stating that the US should proliferate the Emergency Weapons System and dealert technology it already possesses. Right now you're probably reading this paragraph over, going, "What?" and if you are, you know exactly how I was reacting when I heard it.

Being the Leader of Opposition, and therefore the first on our side to speak and oppose it, I got up and stated that we were running a counter-case, and that we should distribute the dealert technology but not the EWS. Yeah... apparently, as the other team pointed out, it's basically the same thing. GREAT. CAUSE I KNEW THAT.

Let me take you ringside to see my reaction.

*blink blink* "Um... well." *drums fingers* "Um." *rakes a hand through hair* "Yeah. Actually we're just going to oppose the whole thing."

And there you have it... not my proudest moment as a debater... considering that the above pause lasted about thirty seconds. Here is me... being about 120 different shades of unhappy.

My chief problems right now are a) I don't feel like I'm improving or that I know how to improve, and b) the cases I'm running into seem completely impossible to refute without a good knowledge of, you know, what the hell's going on. Another case resolution we had to oppose was that Frederick Douglass should not have allowed his white friends to buy his freedom from his owner. Right... I clearly know enough to coherently argue against that... kay...

After the case on the EWS, Ash and I went outside into the darkness of the DC night. Immediately, a group of guys walked past, loudly hitting on us. We ignored them because that's what we do.

A few moments later a straggler came up and started dancing at us. We clapped gamely... unfortunately... he took this as an invitation to talk with us. Boo. This guy, who identified himself as Derek, proceeded to chat us up as his friends returned to SURROUND US ON ALL SIDES.

At this point, I glanced up and saw some girls walking back toward our building. Let's reenact that conversation.

Kat: Ash, are those debaters?
Ash: Yeah... we should probably get back.
Derek: Heh heh... *at the passing girls* DEBATERS! DEBATERS!
[The girls do not turn around.]
Derek: *evilly* Guess they're not debaters...
Kat: *BUSTED* Yeah... what time is it? It's probably time to get back anyway.
Ash: Yep! Time to get back!
[The guys, grumbling a little, cease to surround us.]
Derek: Can I call y'all sometime? *looking at Kat*
Kat: ...I... don't actually think my boyfriend would like that.
Derek: Aw, y'all got a boyfriend? 'S cool, man, we can still be friends.
Kat: *flashing back to junior/senior year of high school* Um, no. My boyfriend's kind of possessive...
Derek: Aw... how about you? *looking at Ash*
Kat: Yeah, Ash. How about you?
Ash: Um... I just got out of a really bad relationship... yeah... I've kind of sworn off guys.
Derek: Aw, y'all breakin' my heart!
Ash: Yeah... sorry about that.

Memo to the kids back home: Being approached by guys on a dark street in DC? Not as much fun as you'd think.

Fortunately, I woke sick Saturday morning, and didn't have to return. When did being sick become a fortunate occurrence? I still <3 debate... well, actually, I don't... but I'd really like to. I'd like to enjoy it again, and most of all I'd like to improve. The crap about "practice makes perfect" kind of breaks down when practice consists of "Emergency Weapons System? WHAT THE HELL?"

In other news, I'm making a good bit of headway on Guardian. Huzzah!

How ironic that I saw this during Macro.

I hate people.

This morning I got up and went to Spanish... and now Macro... and then I'm going to Justice, and then USFP, and then Theories of Democracy, which is completely amazing because it means that I'll be attending all of my classes. GASP! This just doesn't happen, people.

Of course, maybe "attending" class theoretically involves listening during class, whereas I spent my Macro class discovering Facebook photo albums and surfing web comics. Woohoo. Now, I'm going to follow a classmate's example and do some online shopping.

I have nothing else to say... but I hope that ad brought you a little joy.

Debate tournament + a close friend's visit = stress and fun

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have emerged victorious from an eventful week.

As remarked in an earlier entry, Crystal arrived here Sunday night. She'd already met Ash when Ash visited me in Elizabeth City, and I introduced her to Adam, Rachel, Ian, the NARC regulars, and numerous friends. She was quite fond of DC by the time she left, and has accepted, as I did so long ago, that it owns Elizabeth City. Also, DCers are much cooler than ECers.

And, of course, the DC crowd was quite fond of Crystal as well.

Today she left, so we had a farewell dinner at Casa Fiesta. But first, there were pictures...



I dropped her off at Union Station at five, and although I have no real desire to go back to Elizabeth City it was very strange to watch someone else do it.

On Friday and Saturday, the AU Debate Society held its tournament. For those who aren't in the know, we're members of the American Parliamentary Debate Association. Universities all over the nation send teams to such tournaments, and they're always fun, but this was my first time participating as a judge instead of a debater.

First, Ash and I registered teams... this is the exciting part, because it means taking their money.

Because this tournament fell near Halloween weekend, and also because APDA debaters are severely repressed souls, we saw some interesting costumes. (The guy with the wings changed Ash's life... if you watch her blog, I'm sure you'll see a note on him.)



We're going to a tournament this weekend at GW... wish us luck!

No! No! I was over my rage issues! Don't make me go back there!

My sleep deficit is growing ever larger, and it brings with its massive bulk an ever-increasing store of RAGE AND IRRITABILITY. I'm not quite as crazy as I was over the summer, rest assured, but I'm not the kind of diplomat you want representing your country, either.

French Diplomat: Um, we feel that France is a completely independent country, Ms. Kuhl. Please sit down.
Kat: *red faced* WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT??? CLEARLY THE FACT THAT WE AIDED YOU DURING THE FRENCH REVOLUTION ESTABLISHES OUR OWNERSHIP OF YOU!!
French Diplomat: Um, no. Also, you didn't.
Kat: WE WOULD HAVE IF YOU DIDN'T SUCK!!
French Diplomat: *in a text message to his government* Let's bomb the US.

Last night, I heard that my roommate had found a bug in our room, and had therefore left to go chill at a friend's because she's freakishly terrified of bugs. There's no reason for that to upset me, right? Well, my reaction was "Why would she DO that?!" **rage.** I heart my roommie like whoa and I do not want to be bitchy to her, of all people.

There were people in the NARC all night, cackling and playing ping pong, and my reaction was "GAH! WHY WOULD THEY DO THAT!" because having fun is like a personal affront to me. (Because they were male, Crystal and I turned on Lifetime and chick music... unfortunately, it had no effect.)

In her genial way, Ash pointed out that occasionally things will upset me, because the world will not change to suit my desires. I wholeheartedly agree. Therefore, I am a little confused about why the clicking of the ping pong balls was making me WANT TO COMMIT MURDER.

I think I need sedatives. No, really.

I am hoping to take tonight to relax and sleep and engage in stress-relieving activities... but I can't think of any.

Yesterday I gave Crystal a tour of Dupont Circle. We went in a guitar store, walking up a narrow, creepy staircase and entering a claustrophobic little room filled with guitar cases. Good times. We went in the side room, and Crystal picked up an acoustic while I stared out the window at the Dupont traffic. I realized that I cannot imagine doing something -- like playing the guitar -- just because I love it.

I don't write because I love it. I don't do photography because I love it. I don't study languages because I love it. On the contrary, while I was originally interested in all these things, my interest has now dwindled into a resentment of perceived obligation... I write because I have to, I write because it's expected, I don't write at all - and the same with everything else.

I can't imagine just having fun, without wondering if I'm going to be good at an activity, better than my competitors -- I can't imagine just doing something that makes me happy. I don't think that's normal.

According to Crystal, I obsess over everything and I'm going to give myself a hernia. Wow. I don't want to be that person.

I wish I knew where to start... but I hate myself even for writing journal entries like this, awkward and clunky and whining, and I hate myself for saying things like that, for acknowledging my problems without changing them, and for saying weak things like "I wish I knew where to start" and I just wish I weren't in class so I could hurt myself; I haven't felt like this in a long, long time.

In a nice throwback to my high school self, I wish I had control.

Ahhhh... The only thing better than hours of relaxation is a post filled with pictures!

Yes, I am wallowing in the mud hole of relaxation, and it's ever so much fun and completely deserved. After our escapade with the stupid metro rule and its disastrous consequences (Saturday), I remembered that I had two midterms and a paper due on Monday. One of these midterms and the paper was due for US Foreign Policy, my class of angst. Of course, this didn't stop me from hanging around with Adam, his brother, Caroline, Rach, and Ash for the better part of the night, swapping stories about crazy relatives and stalkers. A good time was had by all... unfortunately, this good time sort of led to Sunday Death.

Sunday Death... it's a little known disease that came over on merchant ships from South Africa, carried by rats and small monkeys, and once you have been bitten by one of the infected, you must choose between DYING OF STRESS and failing all your classes... I chose dying of stress, and, as I usually do, got lucky. I think I'm building up an immunity. Take that, monkeys!

I pulled a sort-of-all-nighter on Sunday night... specifically, I got an hour of sleep (7:15-8:15). I then dropped off a paper at my 8:30 class, came home, studied like mad, took a Macro exam, skipped Justice to proof my USFP paper, dropped off said paper, took that exam and then a long breath. Let me tell you... that feeling of happiness when it's all over makes everything you've gone through worth it... ah, blissful, blissful LACK OF PAIN... I came home, and collapsed, and by collapsed what I clearly mean is "cleaned my room, had dinner, went out with Crystal."

Oh, I guess that's newsworthy... Crystal, in a completely unplanned development, is visiting me. She'll be here until Sunday. Yay! Unfortunately, the weather isn't cooperating with our plans and I haven't really gotten to show her DC yet. Hopefully, however, we will be clubbing it up on Thursday night... which means skipping debate, which I am thoroughly okay with, due to incidents of last Friday that I can't journal. I hate it when I can't journal important stuff for stupid reasons, but hopefully you all know by now.

I'm making a little extra cash tomorrow from 9:00-12:30... and a lot of extra cash staffing a tournament at the NARC (for which I unfortunately won't get paid for another couple of weeks, but when I do, my paycheck will be -- to quote Adam -- THIS big --------------------------------).

The new Mask of Zorro comes out Friday -- and Crystal will actually be here for it! I wish she could stay until Halloween night... but apparently she has these "class" things to attend... how very Communist of her.

And at last, some photos from when Rick stayed with us weekend before last... Hover your mouse over the picture for comments.










And from when I made Shea into a dirty Mexican (bruise in the second picture (c) Kat 2005)...




And, finally, some random antics...











And there you have it... I love college.

This is a tale of mystery and terror... and it ends with the MPD.

First, a quote from Macro on Thursday... I include these because I know you've come to expect them. Here goes:

"You know, if you want to have a good sex life, here's a great toothpaste!"

Second, a prof brought in a speaker who revealed to us that, based on a study on rehab and prison time that he'd conducted, Steelers fans are more likely to favor prison without rehab. That's right, folks... Steelers are tough on crime. This presentation came complete with pretty bar graphs, and it made my day.

And third, you're about to read the disturbing story of two little girls' Saturdays, rife with hysteria, amusement, and pain.

It started out at the Tenleytown metro station, where Ashley -- a good, decent person who does not deserve the crap she goes through -- found that her $5 transaction was being denied. Now, Ashley worked like a madwoman all summer; every time she called me, she was driving home from a day of dealing with really stupid people who said things like "I don't trust the quality of y'all's black women!"

Because of this, Ashley returned to school with money like whoa, and the idea that she had no money caused her an understandable amount of pain. Apparently, her bank had screwed up all her deposits since the school year began... and she was massively overdrawn.

I put $5 on her SmartTrip using my credit card, and we moved on. (Things that will be important later will be in bold.)Despite this misfortune, we merrily ran off and amused ourselves and later got together with Adam and the lovely Caroline. I tried to put some more money on Ash's SmartTrip, and my transaction was denied. I flipped out and called Wachovia to confirm that I actually had something in there -- which I did, so I was left confused. Since neither of us were negative just yet, it was okay, and we decided to try our luck later, since no doubt it was just a problem with the machine -- right? Right?

At 6:45ish, Ash and I left the Adam's Family (hahaha! no, seriously!), because I had to work at 7:30 and we were all the way in Dupont. We got down to the metro and, as I went to put money on our SmartTrips, praying that everything would be okay since we actually were negative and needed this money to get home -- I discovered that my card STILL WASN'T WORKING!

I went over to talk to the station manager, who, by the way, may well have been the rudest man ever -- and he informed us of a little rule. Would you like to guess what that rule is? You don't have to. I'll tell you! People can only use their credit cards to add money to their SmartTrip cards once a day.

If you're paying attention, you'll know that I already used mine to add money to Ash's.

*cue blind terror and panic*

We stumbled blindly out of the metro (it was now 7:15 - did I mention the work at 7:30?) and started wandering down Mass Ave in search of a bus. We found nothing.

We tried to hail a cab, but the only cab that takes credit cards operates only in Bethesda.

In despair, we turned around and headed back to the metro... ...TO BEG FOR CHANGE.

Dear Lord. I'm a sophomore in college at a $40K a year school, wandering around in business shirts with a cell phone and a digital camera. And there I was... begging for change.

Ash had a little run-in with a homeless man... he asked us if we could spare some change, and she -- again, being such a decent person that she can't just walk by -- tried to lighten the mood by saying, "Sorry, sir -- same situation!"

Did I mention that she was wearing a $80 puma jacket and his only abode was the space under his ratty umbrella?

So, having offended this poor homeless man -- on whose turf we were no doubt infringing -- we made fifty-five cents and decided we couldn't stand the humiliation anymore. Finally, we started walking the other way on Mass in a naive search for another bus stop.

This is where the night got a little better.

Ash noticed a couple of cop cars and wandered over to ask advice. After asking her a few brief questions to ensure that she wasn't drunk or high, one of them offered to give us a ride since AU is in his district. We piled in with breathless thank-you's and prepared for a very interesting experience.

First off, cops are crazy. He accelerated from 0 to 50 in a matter of seconds on a rain-slicked 35 mph road... Ash and I could literally feel the car sliding. Worst of all, I had to keep repressing the urge to say "Wow, you drive like me!"

Then a taxi cut us off. The cop cursed, flipping on his lights, pulled the guy over, and yelled at him. This was emotional vindication for every time a taxi has ever cut me off, and because I suspect many of you will feel the same way, I took a picture.


I had to be very stealth while taking this, and immediately afterwards he turned around and I had to hide it in my bag while smiling brightly.

He dropped us off in front of Hughes... we couldn't open our own doors, because it was a cop car, so we had to roll down the windows and grope for the handle.

I rushed home, frantic to get to work (for which I was an hour late)... only to find that, after all, I wasn't supposed to start until the next shift. Yay!

Tired but wiser...

As of late, I have been filled with the joy of fall.

Even though I'm struggling beneath a crushing course load, I'm having a wonderful time.

Rick arrived last Friday and left yesterday morning, after a long weekend of movies and long conversations and wanderings and really scary propositions for Chinese food. Rick is like a breath of fresh air here at AU, and although I'm sad that he's gone he left me that much happier.

Last night, Ash and Adam and I prowled DC. The high point of the night was Adam scratching my head on the metro platform at Gallery Place while I kicked my feet in glee and clung to his legs happily. Bottom line: Dignity? What's that? Headscratch!

We also went to Ben's Chili Bowl, where, when I got up to get a bottle of water, a fortyish man came over to me with a slightly leering smile.

Man: Do you like poetry?
Kat: *fumbling, really not wanting to get stuck listening to poetry for a half hour* I'm not really a fan of poetry. More into literature. [To be fair, I was trying to remember the word for "prose" and couldn't, and ended up sounding more pretentious than I intended.]
Man: Poetry is literature.
Kat: True.
Man: I have some really hardcore poetry here. You know, radical stuff. It's a little like punk rock.
Kat: Punk rock isn't really my thing... thank you very much, though.
Man: You know what? You're really stuck-up. You need to come down.

Although Adam and Ash maintain that he was "just trying to get into my pants," I felt horrible. At the same time, I was out with my friends having a good time and he was the one who came up to me in a diner and demanded my attention -- which is incredibly rude. So why did I feel so crappy?

Then Adam scratched my head and everything was better. Afterwards, Hillary came over to the room, and we all hung out for about two hours. It would have been hard to feel bad after that.

I really do love my friends. Despite all my craziness this last month and a half, when I'm moderately sane I can see how lucky I am to know these people. I would do pretty much anything for any of them. They've all helped me enormously -- even Sara, whom I'm on the outs with now; meeting her last semester helped me adjust to AU twice as fast as I would have otherwise.

That's a big reason why I love this time of year. In late October/early November, things were finally starting to come together. I still had a bad room situation, but I was starting to make lasting friendships, as opposed to those "Oh, well, you live on my floor" acquaintanceships. And, despite the horror that was Forensic Chem, I was actually adjusting to college, as opposed to surviving it. That kind of thing sticks with you; now cool weather and fading leaves bring me joy.

But that's enough sap for now.

I cannot wait for Halloween. Actually, I can't even wait for next Tuesday -- then my US Foreign Policy midterm will be turned in and my life will be that much happier.

KitaKatze: I have to do a 6-7 page essay for [the USFP midterm] beforehand and then do some short answers during class, and I don't feel like I have a good enough grasp of the material to do either
LS4077: ugh
LS4077: that sucks! but i know you'll pull it off
LS4077: you always do, and you know enough generally to fake what you don't specifically
LS4077: besides, you could argue Stalin into introducing democracy
LS4077: :-)

And that, my friends, is why I love my Carey.

And because I apparently don't think about alcohol enough...

My macro professor is illustrating externalities by rambling about a brewery on the Potomac river that can cheaply produce beer. Yeah. A few classes ago, he was rambling about Johnny Depp and Kate Moss producing acid and pot together, and before that, he was talking about how many drinks a college student could afford to buy at the Tavern back when it sold beer.

Yep. And yes, this is the "little red hen" prof I mentioned before.

I'm going to let that sink in.

Anyway, I am back at AU. Last night, despite a train delay of two and a half hours, I was on time to work for the first time since, well, I started. Then I played pool for about an hour and got paid for it. Before that, I played Descent: Freespace on my laptop and got paid for it. Have I mentioned that I love my job?

On the downside, I'm a NARC monkey. Interestingly, despite my excessive mocking of the GARC workers last year, I have no qualms whatsoever about this development.

"Suppose I buy myself a great big muscular HUM-VEEEEE." Please help me. He's talking again. Now I'm trying to picture him "tooling around" in his big "HUM-VEEEEE." DEAR LORD NO.

In a completely unexpected turn of events -- I'm very happy to be back.

"Suppose I like you. I'm really fond of you. And I see you eating an ice cream... and I get PLEASURE FROM IT!" *pause while everyone chokes* "I'm getting a positive externality from this, and you can't even make me pay for it!"

At least this class is entertaining...

The earthquake.

I honestly don't know what to say about the earthquake. I'm staggered by how many natural disasters we've had in the last year. Katrina, Rita, the tsunami, the mudslide in Guatemala (more below), and now -- this.

For those of you who aren't keeping up with the news, yesterday an earthquake struck Asia along the Pakistan-India border. It was a 7.6. Immediately, the suspected death toll jumped from 2,000 to 3,000; this morning when I checked the news, it was 30,000.

To give you an idea of the devastation -- 250 girls were killed when their school collapsed. 500 more were injured. Hospitals have collapsed. People are being treated outdoors because the threat of hospitals collapsing is still too great.

My dad has been watching satellite feeds and the footage is unbelievable. There are children crying in desperation, wounds open on their faces, waiting to get somewhere where they can be helped. There are families weeping because they have less than $10 to their name.

30,000 people. I wonder how long it will be before we know for sure.

There was a mudslide in Guatemala on Wednesday. 1,400 people may be dead. Most are still buried. They may just declare the site a mass grave.

And, in still other horrifying news, a UN official has warned that the bird flu pandemic could kill between 5 and 150 million people.

I have no idea what to say.

Warning: This post was written under the influence of the depression that owns my soul.

This has not been a good month. It seems like everything has gone wrong, from problems with an old friend to two overdrawals (neither of which were entirely my fault) to academic anxiety to evil babysittees to the return of my manic-depression to at least three breakdowns.

My mom wants me to go on medication. My friends want me to go to counseling. I would sooner start lying to my parents and avoiding my friends than do either. I couldn't wait to go home; now I realize that I've told my mom too much and she's worried sick about me, and she can't treat me like a normal person. So much for the mother-daughter bonding time I was looking forward to... now I'm a mental patient. And Dad, according to her, is worried and believes there's something "under the surface" that I'm just not telling them. I have to ask -- with everything I've told them has gone wrong this semester, what more do they expect?

There's nothing to look forward to for the rest of the year... except, of course, Christmas break, spring break, and summer, but even those are kind of tentative. Christmas break will be interesting at best -- my cousins don't live in NH anymore, and putting me and my grandmother in a house together always is, because although she apparently respects my morals or something like that, she just doesn't seem to like me. I have plans to go to Ireland over spring break, but I don't think it will happen. I have plans to go to Italy during the summer, but again, I don't think it will happen. All I'm really looking forward to -- weirdly enough -- is Roz's wedding and her possible visit.

Oh, and finishing this semester and moving on to the next crappy wave of classes. Yay.

I've made a few new friends this semester, like Ian and Hillary; I've gotten to know a few old friends a bit better, like Shea; I've gotten a few jobs; nonetheless, my overwhelming impression of this semester so far is one of angst and paranoia. I don't want to go back to AU, but I don't want to stay in Elizabeth City, either. It's quite a change from my last visit home, when I would have been happy with either.

I'm tired and sick all the time, mentally and physically. I know I've been no fun whatsoever to be around since a week and a half into the semester, when things started falling apart. I'm questioning all my friendships and I've come to the conclusion that only one or two are worth anything, and I have no idea why my friends are still hanging around with me. Every time I'm around Adam or Ash I'm just wondering what's wrong with me, and I know I'm boring/annoying Adam and possibly Ash as well. I wish I could take this entire month and a half back and spend an additional month and a half in bed.

I need to do something to remind me of why I like DC, of why I like EC, but I can't think of anything I like in either place anymore.

I wish I could just take a year off... but I know I'd never come back.

Did anybody ever read Journey to the Center of the Earth?

I think I've sunk so low that I'm actually in that new world at the core. Rock on, Kat! You see, I actually just did a paper while in my Macro class. That either means that I suck as a person or that I'm the best time manager ever.

However, credit where credit is due; today is the first time I've attended this class since... *pauses to get out planner* September 15. And I'm not even sure I attended it that day, so it might have been September 12. Either way, it's been a long time. I had no plans to attend it today, but realized that I might want to ease back into the routine, since I have intentions of, you know, actually doing the class thing after fall break.

I cannot wait to go home. My dad changed his plans so he could be home over my fall break! I'm looking forward to spending time with him and my mom, to say nothing of my cat. My train leaves at 7:30 AM, so since I'm working until 2:30 tonight, sleep might just be pointless. I suspect, however, that if I do not go to sleep or at least turn off the lights and TV, my roommate will kill me, because she has an exam tomorrow. *evil little grin* I could make her sleep in the hall...

Speaking of my roommate: although I love Ashley with the all-consuming general "like" a vegan bears for tofu, I'm going to look into living off-campus next year. I'd miss being able to flit down to friends' rooms to hang out and/or form spontaneous study groups, but I'd probably retain my sanity better, and right now it's a finite resource. I haven't made any decisions yet -- come on, I haven't even looked at prices yet -- but it's definitely a consideration. Right now it hinges on whether or not I can find a good roommate. I do not want to play roommate roulette.

Class is over, and my blog has been updated... therefore, it's a productive day.

The saga of Kat vs. Chevy Chase has ended...

And I guess you could say they won. They messed up a simple transaction and hit me with an overdrawal fee that wiped out my last babysitting check. I went to talk to a manager who informed me that if I'd deposited the check using a teller, not an ATM, everything would have been fine -- but they still can't take off the overdrawal charge because, frankly, they don't want to. I paid off the charge and am withdrawing my business to join the hordes of people dissatisfied with their institution.

Maybe I'll make a Facebook group. How else do you deal with unimportant college angst?

Speaking of which, Ian and I have created our very own Elevators Are for Floors 4-7 Only group. If you agree with our creed, and I assume you do, because you are absolutely inhuman if you don't, join us and fight the good fight.

I had a truly lovely time last night at the NARC. Ian visited me, and I met a few other McDowellers who were entertaining. Despite the techno music one of the visitors put in the player, it was a good night.

However, I trust that Friday will be even better, because I will no longer be here. All the angst that has added up over the last two weeks is starting to drive me clinically insane. A nice long break to catch up on work and catch up with friends will make me very happy, as will prowling Wal-Mart at four in the morning. Livin' la vida loca...

Here you are with a backstage pass to Kat's First Night on the Job... enjoy the show.

Well, here I am at my job. One of the four, anyway: I now have three babysitting jobs, one of which is at a predefined time every week (Tuesday, 12:30-5:30) and two of which are at the parents' convenience. In short, I will be rolling in money by the end of the semester, assuming I don't spend it all. Speaking of which, I've taken to keeping track of my finances with Quicken, and the week and a half during which I was deprived of my laptop nearly killed them. It feels very good to have control over everything again. That brings me to my good news - my charger got here today! Dance!

In fact, this Monday has gone pretty well. After staying up until 4:30 rewriting a macro paper and a Spanish paper, I rolled out of bed at 8:00, went to Spanish, dropped off the macro paper, and went home to sleep through two classes. I then skipped yet another class to write yet another paper and attend a meeting to get our debate team out of trouble with Student Activities, or at least off probation. I did, however, go to Theories of Democracy... where I cleaned up my email and updated my Quicken info.

I attend class less than anyone I know, and when I do go, it's kind of pointless.

Speaking of debauchery, Adam, Ash and I spent yesterday at a carnival in Baltimore, at which I... wait for it... smoked my very first cigarette! My very first three, actually. They were nicotine and tobacco free, which I, in my naivete, thought meant they were okay... Adam and Ash brutally educated me by telling me of the miracle that is "tar." Apparently I'm so straight laced that I don't understand what's bad about the things I don't do.

Anyway, the cigarettes gave me a headache and made my lungs sad, so I can't be hardcore anymore. *weeps*

Breaking news: I suck at carnival games. I tried one water gun game three times to win a stuffed lizard... Ash won on her first try... I failed every time. It was kind of pathetic. I did win a dolphin, but, to be fair, that was a play-until-you-win rifle game. I then had a dream in which I ran around campus firing a rifle randomly... I thought the rifle was fake, until some girl followed me home from the quad yelling at me about how I almost shot her. Moral of the story: Carnivals engender violence. And they're run by terrorists!

I'm off to do NARC-related things, like watch The OC. I curse you, Adam, for feeding the addiction! *clings to her borrowed DVD's* No! I didn't mean it! Don't take them awaaaay!!

When you lose all respect for a class AND your intellectual integrity, paper writing gets easier!

This principle is evidenced by the fact that I just ground out a two page paper in about forty-five minutes. There was a time when I could have done a five page paper in less time... but I digress... college has ruined my writing skills. However, the relative speed with which I finished this paper has left me with time to update my blog.

That's not to say that it was an entirely pleasant experience. For one thing, I had to sell my soul. For another, I had to focus through the din of squealing and stumbling in the hall. The latter problem led to a particularly barrier-crossing experience. I headed out to print my paper and ran into the cleaning lady, who speaks only Spanish; she pointed at the door of the girls' bathroom, over which was tied a shoe. Yes, a shoe. A sneaker, to be precise. She clucked and looked at it with a mixture of disapproval and amusement, and I rolled my eyes in a trademark Kat expression. We understood each other perfectly and I didn't even have to butcher her language. Isn't that nice?

I had my first babysitting job on Tuesday. The girl is only two and a half years old and her mother's been watching her all summer, so she was understandably displeased when she woke up and a strange babysitter she'd met only once had taken her mother's place. This led to a lot of crying and screaming "I WANT MY MOMMY!!!" that I attempted to take in stride... but I'm not a very sympathetic person, so it eventually devolved to me watching her in mild fascination until she stopped wailing. (Which she did... so all's well that ends well, right?) After her older brother got home it was much more fun; we roughhoused and I put him in a headlock. There's a reason why I prefer guy friends... even when they're nine.

Last night I had another babysitting job, but the kids were already asleep, so I basically watched the house, called my friends, and played with the animals for three hours -- and got paid $40 for it. "HUZZAH!" doesn't even begin to say it.

Soon I will be starting at the NARC (the north side version of the campus game & rec center), giving me a grand total of four jobs... oh yes... I will be raking in cash. If I get to babysit with any regularity I'll be raking in about $225 a week. Yes... that is me dancing on the grave of my unemployment...

Recent escapades of terror and DOOM!

Events transpired Friday night which can be seen exclusively at Ash's blog, in an entry entitled Georgetown Is Far Sketchier than Chinatown. Go read it... now. In it you will find such gems as "Heeey! What's under your skirt?!" and "Come home with me so I can rape you!!"

Needless to say, Kat and Ash did not go home with anyone. But on to other news...

When I went home a few weekends ago, I noticed that my laptop charger was having some minor problems - namely, it occasionally stopped charging. On further inspection, I found that the cable had been partially stripped, and I corrected the problem by twisting the cord. However, a few nights ago, while innocently watching DVD's on my laptop, I saw that the charger had COMPLETELY STOPPED WORKING. I took this about as well as can be expected... namely, banging around my room yelling "ASH, WHY ISN'T IT WORKING??" and messing with the wires. Finally I surrendered, used my remaining battery power to finish the DVD, and went to bed.

The next morning, I took both laptop and charger to Best Buy to buy a new one. I figured it couldn't be more than $20... right? Wrong. It would have cost $44 for a model that wasn't even guaranteed to fit my computer. Fortunately, it was covered by my warranty, and the guy told me to call an 800 number for the main office, which would send a replacement within three business days.

And I actually bought that.

After a grueling twenty minutes on the phone trying to pick the right option from the stupid touch-tone menu, I was informed that they would ship it within eight business days, which, for those of you who are slow at math, is close to two weeks.

I am typing this update from Ash's computer... and later tonight, I will be typing a paper on Ash's computer, and on Wednesday I will be typing another paper on Ash's computer... Ash's computer and I are going to become very intimate, in completely G-rated ways.

However, fear not: There is good news in this entry. In fact, it is the best news ever. Today I got to hang out with an old friend. Some of you may recognize his name... it is: Mr. Val.

SQUEE!

Val was one of my close friends "back in The Day," and therefore also one of the close friends whom I (in a particularly extended lapse of judgment) completely ignored during an old relationship. Don't ever do that, folks. Some of my friendships recovered, and I doubt some ever will. In fact, Val and I rarely talk -- maybe a total of five times in the last two years.

He lives in Manchester, MD, about an hour from Baltimore; I live in DC and am thus about the same time away. I made plans to come see him today. This morning I hopped the metro to Union Station, took a train to Baltimore, met up with Val at Penn Station, and had a lovely dinner with him at an Italian restaurant. This day more than made up for the valleys of the last week, which included the woes detailed in my previous entry, the laptop problem, a cancellation on a babysitting job, and not hearing back from a potential client I really, really wanted to hear from. I haven't seen Val since my junior year of high school and would be willing to suffer much more horrible things to see him again.

Next weekend, Ash, Adam and I are planning to attend a carnival in Baltimore, and Val will hopefully make it there for at least one of the two days. Huzzah! Nothing says fun like getting seedy hotels with your college friends! And trust me... it will be seedy. We're all poor. Um, well, I'm poor. That's kind of like all of us, right?

On that happy note, I leave you, to bang out a two-page paper for Theories of Democracy (aka an opportunity, or rather a necessity, for selling my soul).

Ever so much stress. How exciting!

My life is rapidly spinning out of control.

I placed into Spanish-352 and foolishly decided not to take it as a pass/fail. I'm now paying for that mistake. I used to be able to speak it well, after two years of high school Spanish, tutoring Hispanic children, and obsessively listening to Spanish music, but since my time in Berlin, my Spanish comes out German, and it confuses no one more than me - with the exception of my professor, who is really not fond of me. In addition to not participating often because, you know, I'm clueless, I've already slept through a class (Monday before last) and forgotten the homework due today, which I did during the class discussion. She handed it back with a note in Spanish that I can't actually read, but I'm pretty sure it says "Don't ever do homework during the discussion. Whore."

Justice is going about as well. I forgot to turn in a sheet of biographical information, due on September 12 (three classes ago). Yesterday I found out that he's docking us five points per class it's late... I won't hassle you with the math, but the bottom line is that the highest grade I can now make in his class, assuming I get a 100% on everything he assigns, is a 93. And I'm not going to get 100% on everything he assigns.

I'm seriously behind in US Foreign Policy. I have no idea how I did on my Macro paper, which might have been the worst pile of crap I've ever turned in, ever. The only class I'm not worried about is Theories of Democracy, and with my luck lately, I'll get a reason to worry today.

I have interviewed for several babysitting positions, but nothing's definite yet, and I'm afraid it's all going to fall through. I have a position at the NARC that's pretty much guaranteed, but it doesn't start until October 3 and doesn't pay enough to be a good source of income.

Finally, the food on campus is making me sick every time I eat it. My health problems aren't quite as bad as last year, probably because I'm now vegan, but they're still not fun. I feel sluggish and crappy all the time. Unfortunately, going out for dinner costs money, and groceries are expensive. More importantly, dinner is usually the only time my friends and I get together because we're all busy, and if I don't go to dinner with them I'll never see them. So I get to choose... should I suffer socially or physically?

Every time I get a chance to relax, I can't enjoy it because I know I'm blowing off something I should be working on, which hasn't stopped me from using The OC as a form of enlightened escapism... don't worry, I'm paying for it now. Oh, am I paying for it. I'm behind in all my classes and all I want to do is lie in bed or get off campus.

Oh. And I can't write at all. The last time I wrote anything significant on Guardian, I was in Berlin.

And Blogger ate this entry the first time I tried to update, and retyping it has not put me in a better mood. (Edit: Oh wait... it didn't eat my entry... it just didn't show up, so I retyped this for nothing. :D)

I am in need of something. I am not sure what that something is, but a long nap is starting to look like a candidate.

I think I'm fasting tomorrow - it's the only thing that helps my mood, to say nothing of my health.

Edit: I have officially removed comments because I can't stand these idiots who post.

Uh, did that actually just happen?

Do you ever have one of those moments when you realize that you're living the life you always wanted to lead, and everything is just incredibly perfect?

I had that revelation tonight, after getting dinner with Ash at Angelico's, walking all over Tenley and Friendship Heights, philosophizing at our church, and dancing in the fountain. Yes... dancing in the fountain... clothed.

Let me point out for those of you who don't go to AU that Ash and I look very similar, according to us and several other people who have asked us if we're sisters. We're also roommates. And we are, if the media is to believed, the poster children for the trashy frat boy fantasy.

The water was so soothing that it didn't even matter that it was a little too cool. It felt unbelievably cleansing even though it was DC water and, therefore, laden with chemicals that have been proven to cause mutations in lab rats.

A security guard came up and asked if we were, uh, okay... *insert staring here.* We explained, kind of haltingly -- because the awesomeness of fountain-dancing was so evident to us that we had trouble picturing what it would be like to, you know, not be us -- that we were college students... because that seemed to justify everything. Unwilling to leave without one last dance in the Fountain of Joy, I asked if it would be okay if we fountained (yet another verb for Katash!) one more time. He said, "Why yes! I would like to see!"

I then realized, for the five hundredth time, that I am a ditz. I'm serious. I don't just say stupid things intentionally and then play dumb... I actually am this oblivious.

So -- with him watching -- as well as another guy and his friend -- we fountained one last time. The other guy came up to us, fidgeting with something in his back pocket. I swear I thought he was going to pull out his wallet and offer us a few bucks to go do it again.

He asked us, sort of giggling, where we lived. Ash told him... her rationale was, "Oh, come on! It's AU! There are like ten thousand other people there!"

We walked home soaking wet.

Tonight was awesome.

I know I'm back in America because I just started missing Germany.

Amanda and I had dinner at Ben's Chili Bowl last night. The area reminded me of Berlin, or, more specifically, of the Oranienburger Tor area. On my last night there, I went there with two of my friends for drinks, and everything was closed except a Mexican restaurant that didn't actually post its hours... it posted its opening time, but instead of a closing time, it just had question marks, evincing a willingness to be there as long as we were.

I want to go back to Berlin for a semester, or maybe a year.

But back to DC. This particular area kept planting little plot ideas in my brain. I might take a night to write there; I certainly need it. I haven't gotten any serious writing done since Berlin (reason #1 to go back!). If you want to hang out in downtown DC in the middle of the night waiting for me to get inspiration, feel free to volunteer.

My friends at the GARC put in a good word for me, and it's looking like I'll have a job at the NARC (the north side version), which I'm pretty excited about. I also have an interview for a position at Public Safety paying $9.50 an hour for five hours of easy work a week, and -- most importantly -- I interviewed with a family in the AU Park who wants a sitter to entertain their kids for a few hours on Tuesday and Friday, paying $15 an hour. Squee!

I'm hoping to get at least two jobs, and three if I can handle it (fingers crossed). But in the meantime, I have a macro paper due tomorrow... and I should probably get started.

The little red hen has subjugated the Chinese.

My Macro professor, also responsible for such gems as, "Assume that I... have a button fetish... and will give you one dollar for every button you will rip off your clothing and sell me," has committed yet another unbelievable action... he read us the story of the Little Red Hen, who, armed with her sickle, taught the other animals the importance of working together. I'm pretty sure all this so-called hen taught him were the blood red ways of Communism.

You have to understand... I'm in college... and my professor just read me the touching story of a mother chicken. The last time I heard that story I hadn't mastered solid food.

On the topic of food, it has come to my attention -- by which I mean been shouted at me repeatedly by Ash -- that I owed my wit to cheese, and now that I'm vegan, I'm witless. I mean, not funny. No, witless is probably pretty right too.

However, my Macro prof is apparently eating a lot of cheese. He just contributed yet another jewel of wisdom which I will share with you verbatim.

"Assume that there is a small island, and that the only people on this island are Johnny Depp and Kate Moss. Now, this is a very nice island, and they can just pick whatever they need to eat, so they have time to produce the two things that they desire... acid and pot."

I love this class.

When everything's made to be broken / I just want you to know who I am

The "everything" referenced in the subject is my finances, and "who I am" is a broke college student struggling to survive.

I ordered my books on Half.com, not paticularly worried about editions because, come on, what's the difference? Haha. I now need different copies of three or four $40 books (which I, in my wisdom, got for $5-8 each) that I literally can't afford for my hardest class, Analysis of US Foreign Policy, about which I'd be more than a little worried even if I had my required reading.

Those posters about wrong editions vs. the school bookstore are finally starting to make sense. The last few times I saw them I shook my head in disdain, thinking, "Oh, how important can it be?" My friends... pray that experience is never your teacher. She is cruel and she plays favorites. And she makes you wear a cone hat. The cone hat of BOOKLESSNESS!

In an incredibly stupid move that will surprise no one, I slept through two of my classes today. YAY! First time all year! Rock on, Kat! But on the plus side, during these three hours, I had an awesome dream in which armed robbers were pillaging my neighborhood and I, in order to bring them down, was negotiating my way into a job as their driver, because I OWN THE ROADS. Then I woke up. Boo.

While I was home, my dad formatted my hard drive and completely reinstalled my system to fix the multitudes of problems my dear old laptop was developing. Thus, while readjusting to AU after a particularly touching weekend, I have the added bonus of bringing my baby back up to speed. I forgot to back up my favorites, so if you know any cool sites, post some links... my list is kind of short.

Finally, for the AU crowd: As most of you already know, Jamba is no longer accepting meal blocks. Join the Facebook group to voice your disapproval.

Good night. I love you all (except, of course, the small handful I dislike :D).

We're back / And you tell me I am home

...Mainly because I am. Yes, folks, Ah'm haeir in tha gud oew'd South. And, God help my soul, it's good to be back.

The windows in my room are open and the sun is streaming in. It's golden and light and airy and cool and welcoming and strangely serene. I could bike down to the waterfront (it's not sketchy during the day because the potheads only come out at night) and look at the sun gleaming on the water and stroll down Main Street with nothing on my mind.

I am dreaming of white lilies and wild horses and fresh air.

I can only imagine how pretty it is in the old downtown area - there will be flowers and old shops and forgotten childhood blooming everywhere. I don't want to waste a moment - I will remember, and reflect, and regret, and lay all these thoughts away in the white gloss of a September afternoon.

This, my friends, is summer's last hurrah.


*Note: I disabled anonymous comments because of rampant comment advertising, so if you want to leave one, you need either OpenID (LJ supplies it) or a Blogspot account. Lo siento.

I think my Peter Pan complex just kicked into overdrive.

After choosing my subject, I searched "Peter Pan complex" on Google to find out exactly what it means. Here you go:

"avoids responsibilities, people tell them they are childish and need to grow up, would rather live in their head than the real world, wants success to just happen to them, focuses on fantasies more than reality, believes they deserve to have whatever they want, life lacks direction, never know what to do next, does dumb things frequently, inconsistent performance, lazy, slacker, does the minimum to get by, does things without thinking, does not feel they have any reason to accomplish anything, tend to ignore or put off problems, believes fun is the most important thing in life, most people think they are crazy, forgets scheduled appointments, more past than future, gets attention through negative behavior" (Global Advanced Trait Descriptions)

I'd like to think most of these traits don't apply to me, but I will continue to reference my Peter Pan complex because to me it will forever mean simply "a fear of growing up." Nyah.

I talked to my mom for about an hour and a half - bless you, Verizon, for IN-Calling. I had a list of my own petty problems, but talking to her put them in perspective... unfortunately, not in the good way.

Dick Potter was the husband of one of my grandmother's best friends who developed a severe case of Alzheimer's and didn't even know who his wife was half the time. In January his wife finally had to put him in a nursing home, and a few days ago he died - the nursing home didn't catch an infection in time and it killed him. His wife has been in this nursing home for a while now, too. I hate watching people's lives come to an end...

Also, I think my dad is just getting more depressed, and they're having financial problems, and Mom's worried about Dad... the list goes on. I no longer feel like my problems are important, because I can change them or at least control my reactions to them, but I'm really concerned about my parents' problems because I can't make them go away or even help Mom and Dad deal with them.

My minor list of worries no longer seems so overpowering, but this list has effectively replaced that one, so I'm even more worried than I originally was. This isn't a healthy way to look at life.

I would like to improve my mood, so I am now going to visit a friend and then work on some Spanish. Hasta luego.

Two AM and she calls me cause I'm still awake...

I've been listening to Anna Nalick's "Breathe (2 AM)" song often as of late. I don't like identifying with a song so strongly. If I feel like it describes me perfectly, it was probably written with such open-ended lyrics that 75% of its listeners feel the same way - a little like the horoscopes in the morning newspaper.

Nonetheless, if you look up these lyrics, you'll get an idea of how I'm feeling.

That's not to say that I'm feeling bad. On the contrary, I love being back. Carey's still staying with us, and the room is relaxed but fun. I have new sympathy for my old neighbors. Although I still think they were complete jerks, I can now understand what it's like to have a bunch of friends over and the music or TV turned up loud. I feel very settled and happy in here.

That said, I'm going home for the weekend to be there for a friend who needs me (making the opening lines of "Breathe" even more poignant). So... back to Elizabeth City for Kat, from Friday morning to Sunday night. I expect I'll have a good time, but even if I don't, this one isn't about me. I do feel horrible about missing a group of friends' birthday party and Carey's departure, but if I had to make the choice again I'd do the same thing.

More later. Tomorrow I (hopefully) find out if I got the job at the Dupont bookstore - wish me luck!

Take a seat, take your life / Plot it out in black and white

American U never looked so good. I'm moved into my room, which feels more like home than ever, between my cooking stuff and my family's paintings. Let's take a look at two of them, because they're pretty.

This is the only painting my Uncle Bob did before he died at thirty-eight, when I was five. I really loved him. My parents have told me all my life that I remind them of him, and not necessarily in good ways. My grandmother gave me this painting before I left for school.

Dad painted this one sometime in the last two years. I don't think he considered it finished, but I snagged it quickly because I wanted it the way it was. It's in Avon, and it captures my idea of the beach. I like having things around that remind me of Avon, and I like having things that remind me of Dad.

In unrelated news, our dorm room will be holding three people for a while. Before you ask, AU did not put us in a forced triple... my friend Carey has nowhere to stay for a few weeks and she's going to be bouncing about campus staying with friendly souls.

Sara's friend JB stayed here for a while. I kinda miss him. Come back, JB!

Finally... I'm seriously considering changing my major. Again. My "life plan" might now involve going to law school. Eep. Or I might keep it the way it is... maybe I just like change too much for my own good.

I've started drawing when I'm depressed. It makes me happy. So far, I have sketches of a black widow spider and a cat. I want to do something surreal, but right now I'm just learning to draw. I've been really bad at it all my life.

This entry is unusually disconnected, even for me. I feel like my readers hold me to a higher standard... I didn't mean to let you down.

Mother mother ocean, I have heard your call...

I spent Sunday through Wednesday of last week at the Outer Banks. Crystal and I (having patched up the earlier fight) left Sunday night and stopped at the tiny amusement park in Nags Head to ride the Ferris wheel (which struck terror into her heart), the Spyder (which struck nausea into mine), and the kiddie roller coaster (which feels pretty much like my version of back road driving). We made it up pretty late and just in time, because I was practically swooning with exhaustion.

Monday brought lunch with my grandmother and two hours of swimming in the ocean -- swimming out to the surfers' breakers, riding the waves back to the beach, freefalling as they dropped us once they passed. A few of them broke right over my head, which is a startling, exhilarating experience when you're too close to shore. We both got badly battered and lightly burned, and our throats were scorched with salt water by the time we made it out.

After dinner at the pizzeria, we drove back to Nags Head and went dancing at a surfer club... yes, I, Katharine Kuhl, danced. Crystal taught me how to at least pretend I know what I'm doing, and I had a great time. I'm going back over fall break, after I get a little more experience.

Tuesday... slept until one, another two hours of swimming, sticking a little closer to shore this time -- which means getting rolled when the waves break. "Rolling," for those of you heathens unfamiliar with the term, is a very scary experience if you're not used to it. A waves grabs you, throws you to the bottom, crushes you against the sand, rolls you a few times (if you're lucky, your face doesn't get smashed), and then recedes, leaving you on the beach, completely blinded by the salt water in your eyes, often realizing a few moments too late that the top of your suit is no longer doing its job. Do I enjoy it? Yes. Yes, I do. Although, since you can't see to get out of the way of the next wave, it often becomes a very prolonged experience.

We set off fireworks on the beach on Tuesday night. I bought these fireworks when my fellow pyromaniac Val visited me over my junior year spring break, and since the wind was too bad for our lighters, I hadn't found an occasion to set them off. Bask in the glory!








We set off sparklers and danced through the water, reflections gleaming in the shallow surf. Finally, firey things exhausted, we wandered down the lightless beach, bearing the shells of our fireworks, some sparkler sticks, and a box of matches. We ran into a group of guys near the pier who promptly asked for a light and tried to convince us that they were old and experienced; after chatting for a moment, we continued on. When we came back, these idiots had left their beer cans on the beach... I wish I could say they were just typical tourists, but they were probably natives. Bastards. We trashed the cans and headed back.

So this entry doesn't end on a bad note, here are a few more pictures.
























I can't wait to get back to AU... but all things considered, North Carolina isn't that bad. If I had to pick between Avon and DC, it would be a hard choice.