Mayday

I have a rather conflicted relationship with Mayday. On the one hand, it seems awesome: an all day party! On the other hand, I don't really like parties. I'm kind of bad at them. Also, Mayday starts SO EARLY. Last year, there was no coffee at breakfast, and I was grumpy for hours because not only did I have to get up at the asscrack of dawn (okay, 8, but still), but there was no caffeine! And this Mayday there is word of a certain state regulatory board that has been active on other campuses showing up here. And frankly, police make me nervous. It doesn't matter if I haven't done anything illegal, I still get unaccountably uncomfortable when there is a police presence. Add a police presence to an event where I'm wandering around with a crown of flowers on my head in bare feet, wearing a dress that refuses to cover all of my appropriate parts, and I begin to actively consider just staying inside all day. However, the call of strawberries and my friends will probably win me over.

I have a big head and little arms...

So, I realized that although I seem to feel free to post willy-nilly about jobs and bosses I've had in the past, I don't mention my current job in this blog. And I'm not going to go into many details here, but I will tell you that I work at Canaday Library and that I am currently there. Working. Yes, the time stamp is right. It's 7:21 a.m. I've been here since 6:00 a.m. No, I don't usually get up this early, but I needed money and since hours are extended this week and beyond so that the library is open 24 hours a day, they were available. So, here I sit. Sipping contraband Diet Dr. Pepper and blogging because really, no one needs anything at 7 a.m. on a Thursday.

I think I told you this because I feel the need to make it up to M after accidentally outing her blog comment in class, so I'm going to share the single most embarrassing thing I've ever done at a job. I was shelving here at the library, and my arms were so full of books that I had very limited mobility. In my mind, this related directly to the T-rex (yes, the dinosaurs) and I was thinking about how their arms are so short. In the spirit of the T-rex (and because I thought I was alone, since my headphones were blocking out other noises) I began to make vaguely T-rex-like arm gestures, still carrying all of the books. I got so amused that I did a little T-rex dance and let out a (very small) T-rex growl. Then I happened to glance up in the middle of my awesome dinosaur groove to see some guy staring at me like I was crazy. Because let's face it, I was clutching a bunch of books growling and waving my forearms around while awkwardly shuffling around (dancing is not my forte). Thankfully that guy has since graduated (or decided never to return to Bryn Mawr, land of weird growling dancing library workers), so I am not forced to relive my embarrassment. Much.

Look at that sexy dance.

Pictures

I mentioned in class today that I wanted to know more about the pictures on the tops of everyone else's blogs, and I realized that I never explained the ones at the top of mine. So, a brief explanation, clockwise from the top left:

1) Denbigh

The dorm where I live now.

2) Chocolate chip cookie, all melty and delicious

My one true love.

3) A pretty view of the sun through a tree

My roommate took this picture and I think it's really pretty. It has no particular meaning, but I thought it would look nice.

4) The door to Merion

The dorm where I lived as a freshman and sophomore, and will live as a senior.

5) A flower

From the end of Hell Week.

6) An accidental picture

Of the legs of me and my friends at Mayday last year. It was raining so we had to stay inside, and it turned out to be a lot of fun. A friend was trying to take a picture of C, A, and me, and fell over, accidentally taking this shot, which I thought turned out surprisingly well.

7) Two of my cats

Bundle and Ana

8) Two owls

The symbol of Bryn Mawr, obviously.

Blog post just for class

Warning: This brief blog post contains spoilers for my presentation thing tomorrow, so if you don't want that, (because I'm sure the thought of my thoughts on blogging has you tingling with anticipation) don't read it.

Cleaning Attack

So I was just sitting here reading this blog, having watched Tenure (it was terrible, really, only worth watching for the sake of going, "That's Bryn Mawr. That's Bryn Mawr. Omigod that's...Rosemont. Oh, Bryn Mawr again," and "I know that extra standing in the hallway right there!! I know a celebrity!") and feeling pretty content with my life. And then I had the sudden urge to clean. Like Right Then. At 10:37 on a Saturday night. Admittedly, things around my desk were getting a little...cluttered. I moved my foot somewhere into uncharted under-desk territory and planted it right in the middle of a dust bunny lump thing. There was a line of iced tea bottles that I had to be very careful not to knock over because of the incredibly loud domino effect that would surely ensue. I recently found a CD my roommate lent me to rip to my computer that had been hiding under a pile of papers since approximately December.

So. I cleaned. I can see my desk. It's wood. There are now 8 iced tea bottles of various brands in the recycling bin in the hall (which was a noisier process than I meant it to be. Sorry, Denbigh.). My nalgene full of iced tea from the dining is now sitting on (a clear patch of) my desk. I came up with that brilliant idea when I realized that there was a growing regiment of bottles next to my desk that I kept having to pay for, while there was a machine in Erdman that dispenses the same thing, which I have already paid for. (Or that I will pay for eventually, once I finally pay off my student loans.)

And now I'm sitting here, drinking half raspberry and half unsweetened black tea, trying to remember exactly how much I've taken out in student loans and contemplating sweeping. I probably won't, though. I think my cleaning spree was motivated by the cookie dough I ate while watching Tenure in an attempt to alleviate my indifference. In fact, I ate so much cookie dough (which has a warning printed all the way around the lid (yes, I bought a tub, rather than a tube. Cause I'm a bamf) that says, "Do not consume raw." HA!) that I had to eat two of the pickles I also bought today in order to convince my stomach/blood sugar/I-don't-even-know that I was not going to throw up.

So...yeah. I apologize for the sugar-high nature of this blog post. And for my frequent use of "so." I was going back through all of my old posts and I realizing just how much I lean on "so." And "just," for that matter. I appear to be developing that lovely "oh shit I actually wrote that" relationship with this blog that I have with the one I had when I was in high school. The one where I look back and think, "Why do I say "so" so much? And "really"? Did I really wax rhapsodic on some book I was reading that I don't even remember reading? Is that a typo? What is this thing I've made? It's a monsterrrrrr..."

Which is exactly how I'm going to feel about this mutant of a post in the morning. So, (damnit!) good night!