Meltdown!

It's Friday. I start just a tad later than usual, with two classes instead of three, and I don't have anything pressing upon me in the evening; I love it. I just woke up a little while ago, and by woke up I mean, got out of bed. My bed is becoming increasingly hazardous. I use several fleece blankets, which discharge upon all things suspended in the proximity. I am used to such static, making it a point to discharge myself on ovens whenever possible. I use a nice foam thing my dad gave me, although the pillow I stole from him no longer seems as nice by comparison. But my bed is not that nice, I face peril each night. I sleep on the bottom bunk, getting to which is a hazard. One of Mike's friends told me to clean my room, but I don't listen to girls that aren't named Kirsten. Get it? She asked me what I'd do if Jesus came over and saw my room. I replied, "I'd ask him if he wanted to crash on one of my three beds." It was awesome. So anyways, my room is a mess (no sharing dance!) and its hard to get to my bed with the lights off, big deal. The bottom bunk, although safe from fall damage, has the distinct disadvantage of head injury- the original reason we took the top off my childhood bed, which is now Ethan's. Last night I nearly fell into the heater. My room does not have heat, a heater, but no heat. I believe there are some frayed wires involved, which could result in a tragic polyurethane death if the midnight klankings progress further, or I manage to ignite from static, or some ghastly combination. There is a gap between my bed and wall, presumably made by former tenants to get away from the windows. Finding myself precariously sprawling into such a crevice was quite frightening, but I am pleased to inform you that I did have some sweet dreams of katamari and x-men, with the daily dose of NPR dream-blend. But it's Friday! I get to sleep in past 8! A cause for celebration, I put an Aquatbats' cd on Sleep and roll over. I cannot sleep so late with my cheating, but my room is cold. I stretch like a dinosaur, curling my arms forward so they won't hit the bars above me and pulling my neck back in my somnolence. I image my pandiculation is quite amusing; I certainly enjoy it. I usually spend the next hour or so in oscitancy until I've eaten and showered, but this morning I took the time to read the linear notes on Charge! for the first time. No lyrics, but I enjoyed the special thanks section, which included such notables as Shaq, Karl Malone, and Big Gay Al. The very special thanks included the band members' families, and get this, Heavenly Father. Not to discount their gratitude, but that hypocorism has always appeared to me as an element of Mormon subculture, although I realize it must not be exclusive. It makes me wonder if more members than just Christian Jacobs are members, a term we've been told to discontinue. We were also told to discontinue missionary farewells, but I went to one two weeks ago.

"Woo! Whoa, Grandma! Woo! Oh oh oh ohh... Woo! Oh.." Jon was taking a shower, seems like he messed turned the cold water knob down, allowing for untold acts of burnination. I made that mistake yesterday. I think it has something to do with the different water temperatures not mixing right at the head of the shower, but someplace earlier. So any temperature adjustments are greatly skewed in the net products, if I'm write. Everything in this building sucks, but laundry is free, so.. Or he wasn't burned and just needs to talk to his bishop, and perhaps a psychiatrist for his super-oedipal complex. I tried my best to dictate his yelps, but I'm not very good at translating out of Canadian.


To address Melanie's comment (the only one in months!), it is not that my major is flexible but rather my lax approach to it. Only a fourth of my total credits this semester have any relevance to biology. A more ambitious alternate universe version of myself would probably change the major back to general studies, though I was never the one to select it. My mother selected it when she first registered me to live in the dorms, unfortunately when she did this she had also selected the third floor thinking the more studious atmosphere it advertised would be beneficial, which it wasn't; it was totally gay. Anyways, since I don't know what field I desire (I had been considering pharmaceuticals at the time prior) I see no urgency to alter it at this time, though it would be nice to not have to add that clause of indeterminatance each time someone asks me what my major is, as if it reveals some great truth about my nature. I'm neither limited by words or numbers-though this blog is certainly no reflection of that-I am no more predisposed to biology than literature.

Damn. It is -15*F currently. Today will be fun..