Yup, still alive.
Just for the record, there are few things more disorienting that being woken up to a phone ringing, and having the call be a wrong number.
[I vault out of bed, thinking something bad has happened to the Roommate on her trip or to my mother, due just having a weird, completely unrelated nightmare…]
Dude: Hey! How’s it going?
Lissa: [Is this a telemarketer? No one else asks how I’m doing. Or one of Bridgy’s friends? The voice could be William’s…] Uh, well. Who is this?
Dude: Good. Is this Marie?
Lissa: [Is this guy throwing a party in the background? That’s just fucking rude. And who is he asking for? My name is Lissa, right? That’s not Marie, and my roommate is….um… Bridget, right. Maybe he meant “Melissa”…] Who?
Dude: [Now he’s talking louder like I’m dumb or some shit.] Can I talk to Marie?
Lissa [Nope, definitely not Melissa. And definitely not Bridget.] I think you have the wrong number.
Dude: Ok. [Hangs up.]
Now I want to know where he got my number. There are no Maries on my floor, or in the other freshman girl’s floor in the school, and the phone numbers are fairly sequential around here. He must have dialed really wrong to be looking for someone not on campus and get my number. I thank him for waking me up, though, as it was already almost 13:00, and I probably would have slept until about 16:00. I did manage, with a shower and getting dressed, to completely miss lunch, so I get to play it cool until I order pizza for dinner tonight. And no fuel means no walk, which is okay, ‘cuz my left knee is doing this weird soft clicky-pop thing when it is fully extended, so a day off won’t kill me.
Fall Break began on Thursday, and I stayed on campus for the four-day weekend to catch up on studying (Logic Design, grr). I also wanted to get in some SimCity 2000 time. There are only about five people in my building, including a girl’s sister who is visiting. The Roommate went to Chicago with some buddies, so I’ve got the room to myself. It’s hella loud music time, baby, particularly given that I finally got a FireWire PCMCIA card, so Lenny, and all my music that was ripped onto him, is now accessible. I think I’m driving the girl across the hall insane with the switching between DieselBoy, Keiko Matsui, Ani DiFranco, and Led Zeppelin, not to mention the repeated playing of “X-Ecutioner Style” from Linkin’ Park’s “Reanimation”.
My birthday’s coming up next week, so I ordered myself a present from Amazon yesterday morning, timed perfectly to arrive sometime between the 22nd and 24th. And what, you ask, did I order for my first birthday away from home? The Spooks “S.I.O.S.O.S., Vol. 1” CD and Diplomatic Immunity by Lois McMaster Bujold. Oh, and I’m going to get a ride to Sears to pick up a Brita water pitcher, ‘cuz the water here is ridiculously hard.
What? It’s my damn birthday. I’ll buy what I want to. And the Spooks are the shit, yo.
I think when the big day comes, I’ll bake up a big batch of Ghirardelli brownies and pass them out on my floor and to the Thorn staff, since Thursday night is when we do the paper. I just need a ride to the grocery store so I can buy some eggs, oil, and a pan. I am getting really fucking sick of not having even a bicycle to go the 15 mi to the town Wal-mart, or even the 5 mi to the Kroger’s. Except that, of course, all the roads into town are highways, so I couldn’t even ride a bide into town unless I used my walking trail that runs parallel to the main roads. The only person with a car around here that I feel remotely comfortable asking to take me to shop for essentials hates to drive and complains all the fucking way there and back.
Did I mention that I am now offically the Assistant News Editor for the Thorn, and that next year I will most likely be the News Editor (unless someone cooler and more qualified steps in)? Go me, go me.
Ok, I’ll stop.
Alas, time to return to studying.
[Listening to: Second Intermission – Ani DiFranco – Evolve (03:54)]