I'm writing this at the computer again.
Breakfast. French toast, scrambled eggs, sausages, oatmeal.
Then, the hours. Studied a little. Not super in depth. But just enough to get a handhold.
Housing Office confirmed to see if Alen moved out and got everything. It was a fast check-in.
Then, Linguistics 50. Bus back and forth. I'll walk, I swear ... when the weather cools down.
I didn't take a photo of dinner today. I don't know why. I thought I would've felt self-conscious. But who really cares? I don't remember my periphery. Beginning to feel more socially isolated. (Mostly because I keep thinking about that Cornucopia group. Which I'm still in the Discord server for. And I can tell that there are in-jokes and hidden channels. I am not a digital idiot. I've been breathing cyberdrama since 13 years old. Under my own fingers my heart is like talc.) Staying in my dorm more frequently. Not good. Dinner was -- delicious. Very decently spiced. Harissa roasted chicken, roasted cauliflower, chickpeas. Ate outside on the patio since it was crowded inside. Read some of the newspapers I snagged earlier in the mailbox area next to the lounge. Had a little ice cream and an apple for dessert (I've got to get some more veggies in). Went back down to the dining hall with Sasha to watch their airing of Mean Girls. Funny bit: their Windows PC had an update in the middle when Janice and co. were pranking the Plastics.
I keep walking and glancing around and remembering the campus is beautiful but it's not as beautiful when you're disoriented. Still.
Only 2 of the 6, 7 clubs/programs I signed up for got back to me on their mailing list. Both are AI. I don't know if I've been rejected or what.
Financial aid is still dragging their feet. I met them on Monday. Or Tuesday? They said three days. The woman was pleasant. I will wait. Still.
I want to hit a tuning fork on Sasha, sometimes, if only to keep our conversations on track; if only to keep them from reciting absurdist memes verbatim from memory every time they get the chance; if only to get the envy for unfiltered curious extroversion out of my system.
I have to declare my major.
I have to score an internship. I have to find research opportunities.
I have to contact professors. Multiple.
I have to seek career counseling.
I have to talk to people.
I have to --
I am going mad. I am going mad. Still.
If only I could spread these wants and goals and needs out on a blanket -- throw them all into water and watch them float up the surface like apples -- bob for my goals, bob for my future, stick my head under and blow bubbles instead of scream in my skull at the heat.
I read Chinquapin 45 today. I finished it.
I'm sorry I couldn't be more placid. Though I'd imagine you'd relish all the more me that is briefly here.
Daytura