It's 1am Sunday morning. I just got back from a two-hour car ride with a friend; we drove through Cambridge and discovered a mutual appreciation for the chocolate chip cookie (which we both think is TOTALLY undervalued - people seem to think it's too basic and simple and unexciting, but I honestly do not believe that there is a baked good out there more delicious than a really good chocolate chip cookie.) First step after that was to speed (not literally, Mom - I promise) over to the nearest Au Bon Pain, only to find out that they were out of chocolate chip cookies.
We even asked the guy at the counter if there were any secretly stashed away in the back; he very wearily said no. Maybe he gets that question a lot?
That disappointment took us back to the 24-hour grocery store on MIT campus. We sat on a bench outside, munched on cookies, and discussed characteristics of ourselves that we aren't proud of and are trying to fix.
Now I'm back in my room. My windows are open, because it's gorgeous outside (and unfortunately I won't be able to say "it's gorgeous outside; my windows are open!" without contracting hypothermia for much longer) - some people are laughing out on dorm row. Passers-by don't seem to realize that their conversations waft up to my room - heads up, in case you ever find yourself on a 1am stroll with friends that takes you past New House.
My bed splits my room in half. To my right: my desk, and my rolly chair, which has MIT 2014 sweatpants draped over it. They're COVERED in dirt. Last night, I joined a group of people from New House 3 (a neighboring living group) and MacGregor to play 11:30pm Ultimate Frisbee out on Briggs Field. I did a lot of falling and sliding, which took a toll on my pants. We played until about 1, before disbanding and resolving to play again soon. This morning, I woke up stiff and sore, and felt accomplished.
Someone on the street outside just yelled "YOU ARE OFFICIALLY THE BIGGEST BULLSHITTER I HAVE EVER MET IN MY ENTIRE LIFE. TIME OUT!" Not sure what's going on, but I'm glad I'm five stories above it.
To my left, a full-length red ballgown is dangling from a ceiling pipe. It doesn't fit in my wardrobe; if I hang it in there, it drags on the floor. I bought and wore it on the day of senior ball last spring. Most stressful day EVER: my date drove me and a girl friend to a shopping mall, where we ran around different stores all day trying to find something that looked nice and fit me (not an easy combination to come by). In case you can't tell, I procrastinated terribly on the whole buying-a-gown thing...it worked out perfectly, though. I found a dress I loved about half an hour before our deadline to leave the store. Celebration ensued:
I'm in the red. Not sure what everyone else was celebrating - I was celebrating going shopping for a ballgown THE DAY OF THE BALL and getting away with it.
Straight ahead, by the door: two boxes, that I recently found in a cupboard and realized I hadn't unpacked yet. Over the summer, French House residents shove all their worldly possessions into boxes and flex their Tetris muscles in order to fit them in the hall closets. I have zero interest in taking the time to unpack them anytime soon, so for now they remain an extra coffee table.
My garbage can has two empty poster tubes awkwardly sticking out of it (each is about twice the height of the garbage can) - a friend sent me some posters in the mail recently. One is of Cassiopeia, a supernova remnant (image taken with the Very Large Array <3), another is of the Whirlpool Galaxy, and a third one is of the sky when viewed in the radio part of the spectrum. Another new resident of my garbage can is a cotton ball, soaked through with nail polish remover. We had a girls' night this evening; the French House ladies gathered in the TV lounge, watched Breakfast At Tiffany's (a WEIRD MOVIE. Any excuse to look at Audrey Hepburn for 119 is cool with me, though), applied green face masks, painted our (and each other's) nails, and consumed vast quantities of hot chocolate, marshmallows, sour Skittles, and sparkly lemonade.
Everything was delicious, except for the paste in the face mask stuff and the nailpolish. Not that I tried to put any of that in my mouth.
The evening made up for a frustrating afternoon; I spent two hours arguing with my J-Lab partner about how to perform various kinds of statistical analyses on our data. No fun.
Also, it just started POURING outside. I love the sound of rain. Right now, it's exhibiting strange periodic behavior. It gets REALLY HEAVY and then not-so-heavy and then REALLY HEAVY and then not-so-heavy, with a period of about 10 seconds. I hesitate to go close the windows, although I probably ought to, before it sprinkles all over my windowsill. Speaking of my windowsill, there are two jade plants sitting there; they're the offspring of my friend Daniel's jade plant, that he's had for 63.6% (to 3 significant figures) of his life. His plant is named Jade. Mine don't have names yet; I'm open to suggestions. They're growing at an alarming rate (maybe I should name them "Earth's population" and "child obesity"?) and add a nice healthy dose of green and life and oxygen to my room.
It's 1:45am now. I just got an e-mail from Alan '12, a French House senior, announcing the presence of fresh bread on our sactab ("sacrificial table" - basically, anything on this table is up for grabs.) Alan's latest hobby is baking bread in every variety. I have no objections to this WHATsoever, because one of my longtime hobbies is consuming vast quantities of bread in every variety. In restaurants I tend to eat all the bread in the basket, and lose my appetite before the actual meal. Anyway, off to (1) consume some bread, (2) brush my teeth, and (3) pass out for the night with my teddy bears and Pikachu stuffed toy. Tomorrow: three psets, a writing assignment (a news article covering the recent Brown/Warren debate), and analysis for two labs. It's going to be a long day.
And to ensure I can sleep well enough to function tomorrow, I need to close my windows.