I didn't cry or sniffle or whine or even just get mad and storm off. I really took it quite well. But now I have to be shopping for another apartment...one that I doubt I could possibly love quite as much as the one that I can't have.

Well, that's what I get for....for what? It's not like it was my fault, really. I guess I could blame myself for not forcing a house meeting on my housemates sooner, but that about covers it. I mean, it was only Thursday at about 11pm that I found out that I could actually leave this house. Then I spent all day Friday in New York city, and Monday morning, 9am, I show up at the realtor's office with a deposit check. It's not like I wasted any time. But still, someone beat me to it. How disappointing. According to the realtor, they're not certain that the person who has already put down a deposit on the apartment will definitely get it, but they should know sometime today. So he'll call me to let me know whether it worked out or not. I can't get my hopes up, though.

Maybe I'll go look at some more apartments today.

I am so unhappy in this place. And for the first time, I've had the clarity to see that and be upset about it. Until now, I'd only known that I was unhappy, accepted it, and been frustrated by it. But I'm tired of being unhappy.

It's made me another person, living here. I am always angry and I complain all the time and all I can think about is how awful it all is. And it is awful, but I've only recently noticed that I am so worn down by this emotion that I'm different than I used to be. Underneath every good thing is the knowledge that I have to eventually go home, and that prospect just ruins every day.

Because it is still home. My room has charming little tendencies like the sunlight I get in my window, my drawings all over the walls, and the way my entire window sill is covered in plants. It's the rest of the house that causes stress.

But now that I know that I'm leaving in only a month, I have decided to consciously be optimistic. To know that while it sucks to be here, it's not the only thing in my life, and I have things to look forward to. I really like my classes this term, and it's spring, and I'm starting to make friends out of the other photo kids, and I actually have good ideas. I'm just tired of being unhappy, and I really want to stop.

It appears that they are evolving rapidly. That plastic bag that exerted its predatory impulses as I walked by, one that spiraled on updrafts in a circular courtyard, and now this.

I walked northward this afternoon coming back from some errand or another. Standing at the corner of the main thoroughfare of Central Philadelphia, I spotted something in my peripheral vision. Against a cloudless sky, a patch of white with red. It ballooned, it floated, it wafted, but with some apparent purpose. It soared swiftly southeast, over five stories in the air, never losing altitude. Nearly over the newest building on campus, it changed direction and began to float east.

I watched and watched it, craning my neck, squinting and periodically glancing at where I was putting my feet as I crossed the busiest intersection on my walk. It never wavered, dropped, or faltered. It only rose higher without straying from its apparent course.

It's been too long since I had a flying dream.

Alternating procrastination with uncanny efficiency...you know, there should be a special term for my way of life.

In the morning, first thing, we stood in total darkness, methodically moving our hands. There were four of us, four girls, there in the small lightless room. We laughed together, mostly at the sheer comedy of our actions, and also out of nervousness. This was the first time we'd done this without supervision. We whispered sometimes, because it feels wrong to talk too loudly in the dark. As if someone might be trying to sleep.

After about twenty minutes or so, our film had been developed and we turned the lights back on. We were our normal selves again, only a little different. We weren't sure why we were changed or what had happened.

Later the same day, there were again four of us in that room: myself and one other of the girls from the morning plus one other girl and a boy. More efficient this time, in terms of time, but more panic. When you can't see anything that you're doing, you tend to second guess yourself a lot. So hilarity naturally ensued as an entire tray of chemistry had been misplaced, but the rest of us already had our film out, so it was too late to put the lights back on. The situation was naturally resolved, but the conversation this time got personal.

We talked about sex and who likes boys and who likes girls. Well out of the four of us that were in that room, only one of us has even the slightest affinity for girls, and it wasn't Jim. Surprised the hell out of me, that's for sure. But we all surprised each other in one way or another.

We all said what we really felt, what we were really thinking. Because we had nothing to do in there except talk to each other and develop our film, a process which really only requires repetitive motion and minute-counting. In the dark, we don't have to worry about seeing the reactions of others to our words, and we don't have to be concerned with betraying ourselves through expression, body language, or eye contact. We all have the chance to consider our responses before voicing them and without hurting each other with initial physical reactions. Mild surprise, disgust or approval are easy to hide in the dark, giving us all the opportunity to rethink our own motives.

It's the way all children talk in the dark. Or the way college roommates sometimes do. There's honesty and secrecy and simple curiosity when you talk in the dark.

In my photo class this afternoon, we decided that I am Captain View and I have amazing metering powers, both incident and reflected. But I don't like carrying the large format thing cause it's heavy.

This.......is a long story.

And unfortunately, it probably wouldn't be of any interest at all to someone who isn't a huge photo geek. But if you really think you want to know, I will tell you.

Exhaustion tugs at me like a tiny weight on every eyelash.

So I managed to celebrate for eleven straight hours yesterday, and only three or four of them were drunken hours.

I didn't get in a screaming match with anyone or injure myself in any way. I didn't cry. I didn't get pissed off and leave at any point. Oh wait, I totally injured myself, but that's cause Jack and Ross's front doorway has this metal guard on it to keep the lock from being picked. Yeah, and I smushed my thumb between it and the door. Not fun. But I still didn't cry.

The front of my tank top was both raised from the bottom and lowered a bit from the top, but that was the extent of my nudity for the evening. And when I say that I didn't get pissed off and leave at any point, I mean that while I did get pissed off, and while I did leave, they were separate and unrelated incidents.

But as for the drunken hours, man were they fun. I was sent back inside and up and down the spiral stairs in persuit of grill-food condiments. "Ketchup, mustard and relish, Tam."
Um....'ketchup........relish....and mustard.'
"Tam, look at me. Red, yellow, and green."
'red, yellow, green.'

So I went inside, up the narrow little spiral stairs to the kitchen. "I need.....ketchup...mustard....and relish. Red, yellow, and green." I was presented with the aforementioned items and returned with them to the backyard where I was greeted with great commendation. I rule. And I have SAT vocab words that say that I'm not as drunk as you think I am.

Unlike 19, 20 is a somewhat pointful birthday. I mean, I'm two whole decades old. I was wondering how much of my body is actually twenty entire years old. I know that brain cells don't regenerate, so I image that I've had some of them since before I was born. Probably my bones are old. Heehee. And I think that a lot of really specialized things can't be regrown, like the optic nerve, for example.

But at the same time, I know there are some cells which have a very short lifespan. I don't know how long skin cells live, but at least every week or two I have an entirely new outer layer. Tastebuds have a lifespan of about ten days, I think I heard, so what if I go to taste a flavor that I tasted last month...could it taste totally different now that I have a whole new set of tastebuds?

I am an old person now, but somethings will always be just like the first time.

My life is filled with a strange quiet. As almost all of my classes fall between 3 and 7pm, I have to figure out what to do with the rest of my days. As I haven't had much work to do outside of class, it seems entirely possible that I could get an actual job and start helping my parents pay for my education, but I really do enjoy my free time. Unfortunately, I am also a somewhat responsible person and I feel guilty for being so expensive to maintain. So, as I look for apartments, I should also be looking for jobs. If you know a good one of either, in Philadelphia, I'd be most appreciative of the tip.

So, he left this morning at some very early hour. After making a lot of noise, me putting my head at the foot of the bed to be closer to him, despite his making lots of noise. I remember him saying that it was raining and that he felt as if he would come home and fall right asleep tonight. He kissed me goodbye and left, returned a few minutes later having forgotten something. I think I welcomed him back home.

About ten or eleven am, I woke up for real and got out of bed and started to get ready to walk home in the rain. And then I hear it. Oh yes. The rooster. I hadn't heard his usual 4:30 and then 7:30 wake-up calls this morning, but there was that noise again at...oh...about 10:30. I climb over to the back window and peer intently out of it, hoping for the location of the elusive rooster to be revealed to me. And I did not wait in vain. There, one or two backyards south of his and on the other side of the block he was. Walking around in the rain and crowing. I have found him!

And Peter, if you read this before I talk to you, and there's still enough daylight, look out the back window, and look for the yard to your left with a bright yellow plastic thing in it. There's also some other weird stuff in that yard: maybe the remains of a tree stump or something, and a rooster. Haha!

Some background, since I may never have mentioned it. My parents are divorced and have been for about three or four years, now, I suppose. Both of my parents have long term relationships, apparently: my dad with Marianne who keeps a dog and a couple of cats in addition to her two children and my mom with this guy Dan that she met in Tae Kwon Do.

Today, my dad left a mildly odd voicemail on my phone.

"Hey, calling to say hi, and I need you to call me. Just...uh...yeah, as soon as you get this message."

He didn't seem angry or particularly perturbed, just his usual affable self. I decided to call right away because I have a tendency to forget such things if I let them wait.

Me: Hey, dad, it's me. How are you?
Dad: Good, good, how are you?
Me: I'm fine, what's up?
Dad: Oh, not much, how are you?
Me: I'm...fine. What's going on?
Dad: Oh not much. Are you sitting down?
Me: Uh, yeah...why? (I'm wondering if Grandma died, but he seems awfully chipper.)
Dad: I asked Marianne the question.
Me (darkly): What question?

So my dad is engaged. I tell him that that's nice. I ask him if he was cute when he proposed, he tells me that it's a long story, but that Marianne was surprised but that yes, basically, he was cute. He seems to be waiting for me to say something else.

"So, are we going to have a dog?"

So, I'm very briefly holding a poll. I need to pick two stories to about college life to tell on Sunday for the studio show. Leave a comment and vote for two. The two that get the most votes by the time I need to go to read through win. And if y'all refuse to vote, I'll at least have picked out a few of my favorites. So here are the candidates.

-The Neighbors
-Math for Artists
-Astrophysics Pt 1
-Astrophysics Pt 2: Best of
-I can draw!
-Learning the city

I was thinking the stories I picked should be funny or inspiring or just really...indicative of what it's like for me to be a college student. Upon digging through my archives, I did find that a lot of what I talk about is too personal or inter-personal to be related to by a general audience of college kids. But this is what I came up with. Some of them will probably need a little work to be presented as a monologue, but you'll be able to get the gist. Thanks!

Last night I auditioned for yet another fabulous Drexel Theater Production. This time, with a director who makes an appearance here with us every year or two and about whom I had heard *nothing* but good things. The shows will be on the subject of college life. Parents, the institution, dorms, friends, food, etc. Well for the auditions, we were told we would have to bring prepared a story about campus life. So I came in with this great story about the girl in the dorm room above ours who had a very squeaky bed. Oh yes. And I told it complete with sound effects. And anyway, I got cast in this show, which is designed to be an evolving piece. Some of it is scripted, some of it is intended to be improvised, from what I've heard, and all the actors are intended to learn each others' parts so that the entire cast need not all be present for any given performance. The performances, by the way, are to be largely a surprise to the audience. We will be found, not unplanned on our part, but unannounced. In places like the quadrangle, the cafeteria, and the dorms. There is even a very large probability that these stories we bring in to the director will be added to the show, at some point. Which would explain why, when we meet to read through the established script, we are to have two more stories prepared.

Well, glad as I was to have been cast, now I need to come up with two more stories. Where the hell am I going to think of two more interesting experiences about college life?

In case you haven't followed the rest of my train of thought yet, I have a great big giant collection of college life stories. And you're reading them. I guess. :)