21:52 - August 25, 2002
rivals
At first I was afraid I accidentally attacked the wrong person in the bookstore today, but as soon as he turned around the fear was immediately assuaged. Finally, a familiar face from orientation! I haven't seen hide nor hair of the fifteen or so people I met in June, except for a slight glimpse of who might have been Falon on the bus to campus, so it was shocking. I'd spent almost the whole last day of orientation with Will, planning classes and watching silly alcohol warning plays, and getting the flags lifted for registration, and trying to hide the fact that I'd just embarrassed the head of the philosophy department by asking him for a quarter for a tampon. His dad swooped him away for an early flight before I had a chance to ask where he'd be staying.

So my chances were slim to none of finding him again. But the methodical scanning of each book title, his face thisclose to the shelves, tipped me off. In my bitchiness, I was almost glad for his half-blindness so I knew I wasn't about to make a fool out of myself by shoving the wrong person.

He lives in Baker, in the basement, next to the boiler room. I laughed at him. It's a furnace in there. We actually rode all the way out to my complex instead of staying there and burning to death; ate here, hung out here. I could tell my roommates were shocked I had any friends. I was shocked myself. When he did his valley girl imitation behind Ashley's back, I snorted; I couldn't help myself.

Creepy Steve and Co. stayed out of my business today, or maybe it was just that I wasn't there very much. I had to take care of the boring stuff; textbooks and bus passes and getting my meds prescription to the pharmacy, which was, conveniently, closed, along with the Federal Credit Union. I mean, I know it's Sunday, but it's move-in weekend! Come on! You even kept the bookstore open!

Darley North, the building to the (really?) north of us, has for some reason declared us (Darley South), their archrivals. Every morning, or maybe late night, someone or plural someones dumps bags and bags of garbage in our elevator; by late morning it stinks all the way up to the top of the elevator shaft. It must not be fun to be archrivals with someone who doesn't give a fuck. I suggested tying into the building and hovering next to the fourteenth floor wearing clown makeup and screeching 'Jesus loves you!' but nobody was into it.

Aw.

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