In case anyone is wondering where I've left off, I'll answer that easily--out having an awesome time in the sun.
I've finally managed to run away from my so-called responsibilities for a weekend and spent literally every second I could in the sun. It got hot there, but then I lay out in the sun on the lake to cool off. Seriously. I can still feel the UV rays radiating off my skin, and I swear that doesn't mean I'm crazy-burnt. Or that I have cancer.
But it was a great weekend. When I wasn't in the sun, Tanya and I battled on Guitar Hero III or tried to see who could rock more out on 80's Encore. And then I got to hear family stories, the best kind of stories there are. There is nothing better than hanging with the family for a weekend for the first time. Absolutely nothing can compare to the adventures that come forth from their mouths during these times. Epic tales of stupidity, embarrassment and hilarity. If they were in the form of a type of Pokemon card, I would be collecting them (and I don't even collect anything besides my video games or my sad obsession with scarves).
Of course, all good things must come to and end. As soon as I got back, people were moving in on my floor, including the one below me and the four above me. And by people, I mean Jr. High annoyances. Who think packing the elevator to the max is hilarious, while jumping up and down because, and I quote, "it won't get stuck".
I guess things aren't so bad when it comes to the little ingrates. I guess my greatest hope is that I wasn't that annoying when I was their age.
Though I probably was.
And probably still am.
But it was rather cool yesterday, because they're a marching band. They all set up their practice outside, tapping their drums and brass... The sounds echoed around the residence halls, bouncing and all off beat of each other, but still creating rather omniscient, yet playful, music. When I hear it, I almost forget how loud they are whilst taking showers in the bathrooms, yelling and talking over each other (girls take a while to understand how to listen and take turns talking... some are never cured of this disease). Almost.
However, I'm already having a great week. Plans to float down the Mississippi River on Wednesday with friends, and I'm going home to replace the radiator in my car whilst helping with a bachelor-ette party. And I also will quickly go through some things I want to sell at our Labor Day garage sale. It always makes me nervous when I know my mother is going through my old things. I know that what she decides to sell, I can live without. I'm getting better at deciding those things. But I have this odd feeling of "I never said goodbye!" if she discards it, rather than me. Ah, my sick in-adamant object... thing. Whatever it is that means I respect them as if they are alive.
I also found out that there won't be a show room on my floor next year! It's exciting as hell. I have complained and complained about that thing since the first few weeks of ever getting my job, mostly because we're an all girls floor. I personally like to just wear my towel back and forth from the bathroom, and if there are a few boyfriends around of the girls, I don't mind, especially since I normally know them and they know the whole ordeal of giving a respectful space for those few seconds of walking back to my room.
Tours don't. They gawk, stare, giggle and sometimes make comments. Especially the male population. Which the tour guides don't do anything to discourage. In fact, they completely ignore the situation.
Between many embarrassing situations my girls have gotten into, and getting only half of the times that they have a tour (which are completely inconvenient), I'd mention it every few meetings to see if there was anything else I could do to warn my girls, or to change the tour times. As soon as Nathan became my Hall Director, he asked me about it and I passionately told him my dislike for the whole ordeal. And he changed it.
I told him I'd have a shrine dedicated to him ready by the end of the week.
There have been many items I wanted to comment on, for things I've noticed/observed. Such as bratty little Jr. High kids wonder why they "get no respect" (incident at the movie theatre whilst waiting for Dark Knight movie). But I figure I've already touched on that. So, I'll go instead to pictures.
I love pictures that unintentionally show the true person behind them. I was tickled pink when I saw Ctrl+Alt+Del's Tim Buckley's picture of the original art for his new poster... that had "A Tale of Batman", Red Bull, Warhammer figurines, a couple of bucks and... was that a strategy guide for Metal Gear Solid 4 there? Possibly. Could have been something like a GameInformer, too.
Then again, it's the exact reason why people make fun of you others for always taking pictures of yourself, the same, over and over while making it seem different/new. We're not just making fun of the fact that they are, indeed, the same picture, but that you have the lame-ass posters of Fall Out Boy, unicorns and the "cool" IPhone so strategically placed in every photo you have.
To be honest, a photo could make or break you. There's a reason why there's such a huge deal with the job hunting business and your Myspace/Facebook profile. You could be forty-years-old, charming, wonderful with keeping on task and people skills... but if you've got a picture of you and a friend having a beer, or smoking a cigarette, you could not be hired. Or fired.
I say pay attention more. The prospect of learning something new about someone is much greater than seeing mundane photos of the same thing over and over again. Weed through them and see what you can find. And, if it so deems, feel free to make fun of them, too. No need to feel bashful--they're the ones that posted them on the internet. Lessons can be taught and learned every day.
Random Fact: The only 15 letter word that can be spelled without repeating a letter is uncopyrightable. Though it comes up underlined red through my computer.