Bildungsroman

Happy New Year!

Well, I think I've waited long enough, so I'll just dive right into this. I wanted to give myself a full week here before an entry, so now that I have, here it is. This entry might seem routine, but I guess it should. I have a lot to cover.

I'm here in Ann Arbor. There's about four inches of snow on the ground, and they're calling for up to ten more. My room is cluttered, cozy, and sandwiched between at least three girl rooms on each side. Our room overlooks a frat house and some other equally raucous buildings. People watching has never been so easy. Our Xbox Live is up and running. My roommate and I played for about six hours yesterday. Though I promised myself not to play it the first week, I let it slide on account of the male bonding it facilitated. I know the system. I've got a good feel for the place. It's not too tricky of a campus. Smaller than state, getting to class isn't really a problem. Finding them is. The buildings seem tossed around this campus like a bunch of toy soldiers spilled onto the floor. Sometimes I feel more like an archaeologist amongst ruins than a student. This hall really sucks. Location-wise, it's just about perfect. I'm close to everything I need to be close to. It's the people. My building is actually a residential college. I've been in these before, but none as quiet and dead as this one. The RA's are Nazis. They all patrol en masse,like a pack of junkyard dogs, probably to keep their courage up, seeking and destroying anything above 80 decibels. I couldn't even play video games last night past eleven with the door open. They told me it was "quiet hours" and that I had to stop. There's a lot of building going on around here. Every other plot is a construction site. Yesterday, there were two men goofing around. One was up on the scaffolding, and one was below, dodging back and forth while his friend above threatened to drop a wrench on his head. "Oh shit!" the guy said when his wrench slipped out of his fingers. I quickly turned to watch the hapless ground crew guy get impaled, but he was fine and evidently as surprised as me. He looked up with a confused look, laughter booming from the jackass on the scaffolding. "Hur hur, you won't believe this, but it went right down the stink hole!" Three seconds later, an absolutely LIVID construction worker erupts from the adjacent outhouse, nursing his arm. Tee hee.

Classes are awful. I tested into fourth semester Spanish here, as I'm sure I've said, and I'm starting to have some serious doubts. If my instructor wasn't so damn nice, I'd have dropped before we exchanged "Holas". On the plus side, I think we're all equally confused. It's not us who are driving this train, though. I have an American Cultures class, too, that I couldn't escape due to this stupidfuckingdamn "Race and Ethnicity" requirement this institution is so proud of. On thursdays, I have to sit through a two hour discussion. It's led by this Peruvian Martha Stewart who drones on and on, spit-balling with us like it's fucking talk radio. Typically, she'll just look around, nod, and then introduce some broad, controversial concept like capitalism. She'll say, "Capitalism...," then pause, waiting for some irrational tirade from her circle of victims. I can't stand classes like that. Make a lesson plan, don't waste my money. You provide the fucking service for me. After that, there's a freshmen writing class, which is going to be the most banal bullshit imaginable, and an English course on the coming of age novel, probably the only class I like. There's a really cute girl in there who claims to be a master of Taekwondo. I'd probably let her roundhouse kick me. I kind of destroyed any hopes of making friends in that class, though, when the instructor asked me to explain the plot of "Dune," which might be the nerdiest work of fiction ever. My explanation went something like this, "Well, the Atreides clan recieves dominion over the desert planet Arrakis from the Padishah emperor of the Corrino line. However, the prievious hosts, the Harkonnen clan, were really colluding with the emperor to trap the Atreides there and murder them. When the duke is murdered, his son, Paul Atreides, must assume leadership over the native people, the Fremen, and fulfil his destiny as the Kwisatz Haderach, a sort of messiah foretold by the Bene Gesserit order, to conquer the universe." And her answer,"....Well, yeah, sure. That sounds like a coming of age novel to me..." After that, we started talking about Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. So, there ya go, Frank Herbert. You write classics in my book!

I haven't been eating much. Most people pile it on when they're stressed. I'd say I do the exact opposite. This week, it's been pills for breakfast (Supplements, people! Don't worry!), oranges to keep from fainting, and then dinner at like 7:30.

My roommate is a really nice guy. His name's Joe. He's a Jew from St. Louis. A jolly fellow, he's usually sitting at his desk watching anime or playing Xbox with me. I accidentally told him that the cafeteria really "Jewed me on the piece of salmon they put on my plate," but he just laughed. He's not really the type to jump on the defensive when the opportunity presents itself. He's easy going. Yesterday, he joined me and my friend Alex on a tour of Ann Arbor, the second of many I'll probably take. Ever wonder how a city can have so many restraunts? Like, how can all of them profit? From the little chicken shacks, to the plush cafes, there's at least ten of every kind of restaurant here. It must have something to do with where they're located. They all must be perfectly spread out for each one to own all the business in its little hungry ward. However, I've seen pizza places not fifty feet apart, as well. Hmmmmm.

Another good thing about Joe, he likes metal. My first roommate was more into banjos and thugs; my second, whatever Billboard told him to be into. Yesterday, Joe was listening to Steve Vai, which was duly noted by me.

The shower heads here come up to about my nipple. So, fetus-like, I'm forced to double over to wash anything above my stomach. I know this hall is really old, and 6'0 men were a little less common back in the FDR administration. Hm, either way, I think I'm going to look for a YMCA when it comes time for my conditioner (I really have to rub this one in under a constant stream of hot water.)

This Ipod is excellent. After a week of stealing software, I finally threw up my hands and bought a reputable program to convert my music files. Once it was over, my regret was extinguished. I feel like I'm in a movie where all the long walking scenes have the perfect companion from the soundtrack. That's what Ipods do! They give your life a soundtrack! Pretty awesome. This one also has Wi-Fi capablities, which I originally scoffed at as just one other stupid gimmick feature that all the techies would marvel at, but it has been useful and fun! Yesterday, when I was lost, I accessed my school's website for a map. While waiting for class, I scour youtube for funny videos. I like having strangers hear me laugh. I think it's the perfect introduction. I've tried to laugh before every class I have because it can say so much so well, "I'm cheerful. I have a sense of humor. I'm a little goofy. I'm not quiet. I don't really care what people think. I enjoy the little things." You know, all the basic steps in the small talk dance.

Am I adjusting well? As well as I can. Do I like it more here? Not yet, but I think I will. Confident? No. Happy? No. Optimistic? For the first time in a long time, yes.