Me, Myself and I

Here I sit, blogging (it's amazing what boredom can drive a person to) at Nordheim Court. I'm not entirely sure where I am in relation to the ground. You don't have to go up any stairs to get to the apartment's outdoor entrance, but when you stand outside the door, you're one story above the ground - because the lot is on a hill, I suppose? Then there is ground outside my bedroom window, and I mean RIGHT outside, at eye level rather than below – an artful tangle of weeds and dandelions left to grow semi-wild between our building and the next. But I specifically am sitting on a bunk bed at a ridiculous height. It’s not high enough to do anything underneath it but store things (although you could make a great nest, but it would be impossible to sit up). And it’s too high to get to comfortably. Instead, you have to jump and land on your butt, setting off the creakings and springings. Just now I was trying to type this into Blogger, but the Ethernet cable didn’t quite reach, so off I jump, reconnect, launch myself onto the bed again, try to sit back, but the cable’s too short for comfort (I should have sprung for 14 feet). So I disconnect it from the computer and after a few minutes it falls down off the bed. After I finish this I’ll have to restart the creakings and springings again to reconnect the cable and publish the entry. It sounds like some kind of masturbatory orgy going on in here, but I’m just getting in and out of bed. When you begin to live with people you don’t know, appearances matter. It’s difficult to be natural. Walking down the corridor, you hold your muscles a bit tight, because slouching would seem too studiedly “natural.” Getting a glass of water in front of your roommate feels like a performance. Of course, it’s different if you know the person, or if you all move in at the same time – so you’re on the same footing – but this situation is a bit awkward for me, although I doubt it is for them. You worry: does staying in my room with the door closed (which I did) seem reclusive? Does watching The Office with roommate and her boyfriend (which I did) seem intrusive? What about starting a conversation during the ad break? Why can’t I remember the name of boyfriend, or of the tall elegant black girl in the room opposite (Teyga? Teisha? Damnit! We share a bathroom!) I should treat this place like home – I pay as much rent as the others. But I’m here temporarily – so I should act like a guest.

The place itself is clean and devoid of odd smells and stains, which is all I wanted after last quarter. Sure, there are dirty dishes stacked in the sink, but the mess is controlled, contained. My own room is like a slightly-bigger version of a dorm room: completely characterless, but not depressing (well, it’s depressing now because there are no decorations, but it won’t be). I was worried that the complex would be full of preppy rich kids, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Of the three roommates I’ve met two, one for a minute at the door, the tall nameless one, and one a couple times, who is premed and volunteers at Children’s. Plus boyfriend, who is fat and friendly. There’s something about body fat on a college student – it says “I don’t judge people on personal appearance,” which translates to “I am not a shallow snob.” Rather like dorky T-shirts, bad haircuts and awkwardness. Stereotypical, yes, but comforting nonetheless – even the most friendly tanned-and-muscled people strike fear into my heart. Not to meet necessarily, but to live with. It would just be too much work to live with them, if you care what they think of you.

The other day, I looked up my mom on Google, then sent her a request for castles, small fortresses and other historical mock-ups via her website, including various other specifications, through some Re/Max email program. I got a reply with the subject line “Your Castle Needs”:

Dear Emma,
I know of a charming little fortress very close to the ocean far from marauding nerds. The laundry facilities are adequate they were designed for the downstairs' staff, of course, but I am sure you would be impressed by the space. The outdoor plumbing is of the very finest quality although it does get a little chilly in November and December.

When are you going to be in the Tacoma area, perhaps we can organize a meeting, I would love to meet you and show you this and other castles that might be of interest. Perhaps I could show you a couple that are fully staffed and then you wouldn't have to worry so much abut the laundry facilities.

Cheers,
Realtor of the Royals.

I had actually said “marauding hordes,” not “nerds,” but same thing I suppose.
What else? This weekend, I am going to a stand-up comedy show to benefit Ghana on Friday night, courtesy of the Jackson School Student Association (Jackson School = international studies). It’s at – wait for it – the ECT. I paid five dollars for a ticket today that is a blue stub saying “TICKET” on it. If they want to be professional they might as well take some lessons from EDS. They had a ticket stand outside the HUB, which is an interesting idea. Anyway, it will be weird sitting in the audience of the ECT and not rushing around backstage. I think I’m going to organize a ritual thesis-burning on May 4, the Due Date (FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK OMG MANDATORY HEART PALPITATIONS). Also on that date, who wants to go out for smoothies and something incredibly indulgent and worry-free? I do!!! I’ve been daydreaming about turning It in as I write… oh good god I can’t wait. The last month of school is going to be so easy. One month of writing 5 pages a day, one month of ease. I just hope I’m not up all night the night before after working on it for a year because that would just be depressing.

Then on Saturday I have my mock trial. My mom’s all like “You should go out with them afterwards and talk about the case! Law students! Meet some!” I’m all like “Who are you, my grandmother?” (Actually, I didn’t say that – I didn’t think of the resemblance until now). But really, I can’t imagine anything more awkward than a bunch of overly-studious UW pre-laws with nothing in common going anywhere that allows the under-21s. (Of course, I might be wrong). I don’t have a nice enough shirt to wear, I didn’t bring many clothes up. Maybe I could borrow one from Reader??

I found tons of internships to apply for next year, several paid. I hope I get at least one of them. I hope I get one really good one, the juicy plum on a mediocre tree. Atlantic Monthly, Smithsonian Magazine, American Experience…all good, excellent in fact. (The first two are actually in DC… Greg?) Tiny Unpaid Depressing Place In The Middle Of Nowhere… not so much.

Well, I’ve worn myself out writing about myself. There’s only so much of that one can do. I could write about something besides myself, but really, the desire’s not there. Oh, I’ll make a great journalist all right. (But the perfect little-read blogger).