Not looming, just kind of sitting there.

Since officially moving to college on Tuesday, things have been a big happy blur.  I’ve moved into my apartment, got a spot on the college drum line (third bass!), made some pals, and have enjoyed plenty of games and foolery (bringing about my new nickname, Rhymeatron (am I cool yet?)). 

I’ve been getting my freshman fifteen off to a good start by re-falling in love with these little beauties. 

How can you resist?  The word “wheat” is in the title, they’re always toasted, not fried, they lack high fructose corn syrup, AND have 30 grams of whole grain in each serving.  And the way they carelessly scrawl “What Thins” across the box is just so darn approachable.  I am a fool for these crackers. True, at 10 calories a pop, I should be wary.  But the slightly significant nutritional facts plastered on the box coupled with the slightly significant burning of my abs, I've managed to sort of justify making these my rushed meals.

Apparently our drumline this year is doing a lot better than past drumlines at this school.  Hooray! The higher expectations are really exciting.  I've heard the phrase "the better we play, the more fun we'll have" a lot, which is great.  (I've also heard the phrase "moldy and gross" a lot, which is not so great, but irrelevant.)

Everything so far has been a series of me thinking things will be overwhelmingly awful and me being surprised at the underwhelming ease of it all.  But I mean this in a good way; it’s nice to not have the breakdowns I was anticipating.  Even carrying my bass drum on my jello-hard abs (those Wheat Thins man…) was pretty easy. 

But I’ll probably feel differently after band camp next week…

Okay, I’m going to find a good hiding spot for these Wheat Thins.

          


 My first college party consisted of: construction worker hats, live redneck washboard rock band, wood-chopping contest, caution tape award sashes, skanking, a keg of root beer, and a ceremonial burning of pants. Yay! Way to go Cool Kid On Drum Line Named Dan.

Zipadeeay

Hey! I'm 18! Am I supposed to feel different?

I've been failing repeatedly at posting blogs these past couple days…so this one is kinda lengthy.

Basically:  Three parties and a foot surgery and SO MUCH FUN! The details are quite riveting, I assure you.

This August has pretty much been a hardly-haulting stream of parties.  It's all bittersweet farewell-party things, but I haven't felt any bitter yet, just good times.  Though, I'm afraid the bitter's starting to creep in. (Foreboding!)
On my actual birthday, my family came over for homemade pizzas and had a grand ol' time.
Highlight: a dozen of roses. I'm a total sucker for flowers.

*WARNING: I'm about to get really charming/gross*

Warts.  Lots of them.  Lots of warts having a scary frat party on my foot.  They're called plantar's warts (named after the region of the foot) and they're not your average wart. They're awesomer.  Inverted and deep in your foot, they're an ouchy and what-the-heck-is-that reminder of why you shouldn't walk your dog barefoot anymore.  After some googling and regretted youtube-watching, I decided that indeed, they were warts.  So I went to the doctor.
I am a six-year-old wussy when it comes to medical procedures. Besides blood donating, I can't do anything without an internal (sometimes external) freak out.  After the doctor waged his knife-and-needle war on my foot, I hobbled out of the office with newfound bravado for handling the five shots of epinephrine without using more than two tearful tissues.


Later on, my dear buddies picked me up for a delicious Thai food adventure.  Instead of heading downtown, they started driving the opposite direction toward The Bridge to Nowhere (a barely developed highway overpass bridge that leads nowhere).  Usually, we come here at night, turn on Phoenix's "If I Ever Feel Better" and have ourselves a joyous little dance party.  Since it was still light outside and we were on the bridge rather than Nowhere, I was slightly confused but nonetheless active in the giddy ritual (a little off my game with a numb foot).  Then, sure they were the silhouettes of my dear friends' Jen and Kevin, skipped towards the Nowhere to greet the two people walking towards our dance party.  And then they put a pillow case on my head.  Thus, I don't have any pictures for this particular moment.

My theatre friends take nothing lightly.  They growled instead of spoke, commanded me to put my head between my legs, and insisted I shut up and kept still.  The worst party was when the "Here Come the Men In Black" song came on the radio and I couldn't full-on dance.  Luckily, my friend Kenneth (whose birthday is soon) was equally napped, so we comforted each other with the Morse Code we pretended we knew.

We reached our destination: a public park festooned with birthday banners and "Surprise!"
I love my friends. Thinking about our inevitable drift is what makes the bitter creep in the most. They're the best.

As a final goodbye, I decided to host what I called an Ooh La La party, which basically entailed stripes, berets, and a lot of pastries on my part.  Luckily the crepes, spinach artichoke dip, and baguettes were a big hit.  Thank you, butter.  It was interesting saying goodbye to friends that I knew I wouldn't see until Christmas.
C'est la vie, right?  Hopefully I can bribe college people into being my friends via pastry, too.

There's something about Julie Andrews.

Taken by a very artistic Woodstock man who wasn't completely wearing his pants but whatevs.

I seriously have the most awesome friends. Ever.
After having to turn down a Disneyland invitation, they all secretly pitched in for my ticket like charitable sneaksters. Though it's pretty impossible to swallow the bad feelings of a vacation on someone else's expense, I managed to have a completely awesome magical time between the guilt trips (with the aid of their superbness and my light-up bubble gun).

DISNEYLAND.
I'm obsessed.
I wear my mouse ears on the drive up and take them off before bed only for fear of their destruction. I consider $3.50 a bargain for the amount of magic in the churros. I cringe in suspense each time I watch Fantasmic. I savor each 80-minute line as an opportunity to admire the architecture. I can hum along with almost every song in the park. And I get decent scores in Toy Story Mania and Astro Blaster.
My only complaint: I won't go on Pinocchio...and I need a hand to hold in Snow White.

Now it's back to packing and goodbyes. And my last couple days as a minor! Sadly, I can't think of anything interesting to celebrate my minor state besides get tried for murder or sue an inappropriate somebody. I think I'll just stick to getting psyched about adulthood and not being carded for DayQuil. This is about the extent to which a Mormon kid's excitement can go.

SOAR: student orientation…aggie…reality?

I WENT ON AN AIRPLPANE ALL BY MYSELF. Luckily, both times I was able to glue my nose (figuratively) to a window, and have an empty seat between myself and a generally pleasant stranger. I also was able to indulge in one of my many OCD rituals by drinking ginger ale and gawking inwardly at the amount of tomato-juice drinkers. This practice is a pretty big staple in my life.

I'm going to ignore the fact that airplane-window-cloud pictures get old and post these:

Logan is beautiful. It was odd driving up through the welcome hills and trying to view what was once a getaway as my new home. The way perspectives shift has always been sort of fascinating to me. Growing up in a neighborhood of like floor plans, it was interesting to see which corners felt more homey, which doors seemed bigger, how long the hallways seemed. (Yes, this is how I occupied my eight-year-old mind/why nobody ever wanted to come to my sleepover parties (not that I'm bitter about it or anything (well of course I'm a little bitter (but nothing serious (I'm fine)) about the whole thing) haha…))

As the moving date looms closer, my anxiety encourages me to do more crafts and watch more Pixar movies. So I guess I've been in a sort of try-to-cover-up-the-problems high. There's been a lot of good from it though! Including the tentatively cute beginnings of a lamp shade.