Birthday number three.

I'm currently sitting in Victoria's room waiting for her to get dressed. We're going to Theresa's birthday party. This is the third birthday this week. Christine's party was last night and it was an excellent turnout if I do say so myself.

I helped Victoria jumpstart her car today. And she taught me about alternators. We're the most unlikely pair of people you can find. Perhaps this is why I like her so much.

She's almost 19, a Mexican, short, and just like a boy. I'm halfway to 20, taller, white as all get out, and too girly for most. She wears heels most every day. I wear them on occasion. She drives a 1980s corvette that she works on by herself. I drive an almost brand new kia which I don't know the carbeurator from the muffler. She speaks fluent spanish and english. I'm monolingual. She jumps fences and climbs trees and is afraid of crickets. I have no muscle to jump a fence and no ability to climb a tree, and crickets do not scare me in the least. She can make friends with anyone. I'm so socially awkward no one knows how to perceive me.

I speak and write grammatically correct. She has trouble spelling the word "orange." I have the guts to stand up for myself at the drop of a hat. She's too submissive to most. I'm a fish in water. She can barely swim. I have a way with wits that creates laughs. She has a way of laughing at herself that makes others laugh. I trip over my own shadow. She can navigate a crowded lunchroom in her heels without swinging her hips. I need things. She wants things.

It's strange that we're friends.
But without her, I am left bereft.

Professor Alexander was shocked in class on Thursday. He asked me if I had a best friend. I shook my head yes. He asked if I would give my life for her. I said if it came to it, of course. He said she must be worth it. Uh, totally.

Well, at least I got a friend, right?

Lost and found.

I was supposed to wake up at 6am this morning, but I didn't get up until 6:54. That's 54 minutes after my alarm went off.

I took a shower but I couldn't find my pants that I wanted to wear. I searched and finally found them on my roommate's dresser.

I dried my hair and I couldn't find my straightener. "Where's my straightener?" I asked my roommate who was awake. She had put it in a drawer, but not my drawer. I couldn't find my brush. It was in a different drawer.

Needless to say, I was becoming a tad irritated.

I was couldn't find my eyeshadow, and it ended up being where I last put it. I couldn't find my sagu ID card, and it ended up being underneath my purse on my dest. I was 10 minutes late to breakfast and 5 minutes late to my first class.

My roommates seem to think that I do not have the ability to pick up after myself. Instead, they do it for me. Why? I ask myself. It's not as if I am a slob.

The thing with me is, I know where everything of mine is. It may not be in the correct spot, but I at least know where it is. Until it gets moved that is. And once it gets moved, I have no idea where it could be and my Self becomes annoyed.

I apologize that I don't make my bed every single morning. I'm sorry that I leave my straightener out when it's cooling. I regret terribly that my purse is on the floor in my corner by my desk.

Stop Moving My Stuff!!

This morning hasn't exactly gone very well. Not to mention I'm in computer applications and my text book doesn't have the correct pages in it. I suppose that's what you get when you borrow from a senior who had the class 2 years ago. Technology has changed since then.

On the bright side, I was able to eat frosted flakes and the orange juice machine still had juice left. Not only that, I might be expecting a phone call tonight.

I suppose this day won't end up so badly after all.

COED

Normally I don't like to air my dirty laundry, but on this particular day I found that I had no choice in the matter. My worn clothing was going to be publicly displayed for all to see.

If you don't know, Old Kendrick is now co-ed. In Layman's terms: boys live underneath us. And if you don't know, boys are gross. Really. (After a brief interlude with my dorm pastor just now, this fact is confirmed. She quotes, "It is gross.)

Now the main element about Kendrick being co-ed is the fact that our washing room is, too, co-ed. Meaning, boys do their laundry in the same washers girls use. And again, boys are gross. I will not mention the atrocity of what has happened in our laundry, only to say that a few female's unmentionables have gone awry.

I have not made my bed, and I have a sneaky feeling that my roommates (whose beds are made up promptly every morning because they are tidy roommates) may wish for the same tidy characteristcs in me. So instead of making my bed, I decided to wash my sheets. And when I decided to wash my sheets, I chose to throw in all my laundry at the same time. ALL of my laundry, if you catch my drift.

Anyhow, things are fine as my laundry is in the wash cycle. The story only comes once it is time for me to retrieve my clothes from the washer and put them in the dryer. You know, so they can dry. Then it's time for me to put my second load in. Why not do all of it?

Oh, now I know why. Because in walks Male Number 1. Tall, athletic, and, well, boy. And Male 1 is doing his laundry right next to me.

Normally this wouldn't bother me. But then I remembered this was not just any other laundry doer, it was a boy. I realized this as I was holding a certain piece of my laundry in my hand, frozen in mid air, as I thought about this fact. The minute I realized what he was actually looking at--and no, it was not my charming smile or my quaint good looks--I hurriedly stuffed the article in the dryer and continued on unabashedly. Well, only slightly embarrassed.

It wasn't until my loads were ready to be pulled out of the dryer and washer that Male Number 2 was in the laundry room. And boy was he Chatty Kathy.

Conversation between Me and Male 2:
Him: Wow, it's hot in here.
Me: That's because it's the laundry room.
Him: No, the air wasn't set. I turned it down though.
Me: Oh, okay good.
Him: I don't think I've met you before. What's your name?
Me: Caitlin. And you have met me. You were in my room that night fixing our beds.

OMG. Not only has this boy been in my room where we have yet to buy curtains for our closets, but he is now watching me do my laundry. That's right. This creepy guy was standing propped up against the washer/dryer combos behind me and was staring the backside of me down. Continue.

Him: Oh yeah. You live with some volleyball roommate, right?
Me: Two of them actually.

And with a hasty collaboration of my things (I didn't even put load number 2 in the dryer, no way was I going to let that really gross boy see my things) I replied a quick "See ya laters!" and headed straight for my room.

I suppose I'll start stocking up on febreeze and pray to God that no one notices an odor.

In addition to the burning bush.

It seems as if this school is operating on a faith in such a higher context of my own. SAGU feels as if the divine revelation of God will strike in the perfect timings, and we have no need for man-made warnings or devices such as fire alarms.

We like to use whistles.

I became aware of this one early, early, morning as I was suddenly jolted out of my REM cycle.

"Kelani, the RA just blew the whistle. We're having a fire drill. Get out of the shower. Should I wake Caitlin up, too?" my fine roommate says loudly in the front room.

Apparently, our RA had come to the fronts of our doors and blown a whistle as loudly as she could. This was to warn us that there was a fire and we should get out.

A fire drill? I groggily sat up in bed. Well, I never heard the alarm. I never heard the whistle.=

It takes all of Kendrick over three minutes to get out of the "burning" building. So we have to do the fire drill again on another night.

So here I am, standing out under the FLC overhanging in my pjs, wild hair while boys are mingling around me. (Why are we coed again?) And I realize one thing. The alarm never went off. And I never heard the whistle.

Okay, so let's say a fire hits Kendrick. Within three minutes the entire building will be aflame. Thats 180 seconds, if you didn't know. So within 180 seconds, our RA is expected to blow the whistle loud enough for all of us apartment-style-dorm-roommers to hear it and rush immediately to our safe place.

Sounds totally safe.HA!

This happens for a second time and all of old Kendrick makes it out within four minutes. Head Security guy says, "That was great for not having fire alarms and only using whistles."

I throw my hand into the air, as I have a burning question I just needed to get out. "Why doesn't old Kendrick have fire alarms?" I asked loudly.
"That is a good question," Head Security Guy answered.
I do believe even God was silent as the rest of us stood around waiting for the answer. Imagine crickets chirping right about now.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize that's your answer. Okay then."

That's right ladies and gentlemen. Why don't we have fire alarms? That's a good question.

"Good job guys," I went on, with everyone looking on amused, "we only half burned tonight. Make sure you continue to tune into those whistles every other night while you're sleeping." Okay, so this last bit of sarcasm wasn't necessary. But, hey, I was woken up for the second time by a whistle and not a fire alarm.

I suppose that the divine revelation of God will speak to our RA's in our time of need. As in, perhaps they will wake up in the middle of the night to hear a deep voice, coming from perhaps the burning bush, telling them to take off their shoes for it is holy ground and to blow their whistles because we're all about to die.

Now, don't get me wrong. God's great and all. But I just don't see anything of that sort happening. I can't imagine the RA's just knowing that there is a fire.

Let's say this whole situation does happen. By this time, it's now into a minute and a half and both stairwells are burning. I hear the whistle. What do I do? Rush out of my door and jump off the balcony and hope that I only break one of my legs. Because let's face it, I'd rather break my leg than burn in my sleep.

No, here is what will happen. I will pray every night before I go to sleep that God will not send a fire our way and if He does, to let my mommy and daddy know how much I love them. Because, I'm a goner.

So, farewell family. I hope the burning flames don't take me in my sleep.

I'm in college now.

Hello family and friends. Welcome to the new updated version of my life. Forget the olden days of word of mouth or snail mail, we're going technological now.

I'm a double major: English and History, and I will test for my ministerial credentials in May 2008. Overachiever? You betcha.

So far so good, though. Third semester, second semester sophomore. I work at a daycare; meaning I work with kids. For the most part they're pretty cool. Then you get days like today when they act better than my boss. But hey, what can you do? Nothing but call my mother and gripe to her about it.

I'm in the library at the moment. Why? Because my sagunet doesn't work at this school. In fact, a lot of things don't make sense. Here's a run down of things I've noticed so far:

1. Boys and My Laundry
It seems as if not only boys steal laundry, examine my laundry, and touch my laundry, they are constantly around when I am switching clothes and carrying them to and fro. Stop looking at my laundry. It's creepy. I probably lose all respect for you.

2. People in Computer Labs
Most importantly, people in places of academic progress. For example, when people are in the library computer labs, they are most likely doing something productive. They are probably not being obnoxiously loud with their boy/girlfriends. And what's this about checking myspace? Is that all you use the Labs for? Aren't you also on myspace during class? Stop texting and talking in class, too. You're worse than a two year old at a preschool.

3. Speed Mountains in the Parking Lot
This one amuses me. You see, instead of repairing giant potholes in the parking lots--these potholes are so large they are rumored to have swallowed small children alive--the administration feels the need to put in speed bumps to alleiviate the burnin' wheels problem. This is fine with me, but though these things are small in width, they are great in height. My car drags bottom across them. And there are at least 28 speed mountains on this campus.

4. Food in the Cafeteria
I believe this is self explanatory. The fact that you're eating last semester's leftovers says it all.
And what really makes me laugh, is when the leftovers make their rounds through the lines. For example, baked chicken appears in the Homecookin' line, shredded chicken appears the next day in the wrap line, choice of chicken appears in the stir fry line the next day, and we have chicken alfredo pizza for a meal the following.

5. People who can't park
I realize my own parking is shotty, but I at least have the capability to park my car inside the two yellow lines. Sure, it might be slightly crooked--okay, a lot crooked--but never has my wheels touched or gone over one of those parking stripes. It's those people who think the aim is to center their car directly over one of those yellow lines who I just don't get. Don't you understand that the car goes inside the lines? Sheesh, did you never take a driving course? I can't believe the DMV even approved your license. I found myself parked 3 miles away from my dorm room one evening when there were not enough parking spaces next to my door. Well, not enough room to park, there were at least four parking spaces that would have been empty if we could all learn how to park.

6. SAGUNET
Sagunet is quite different from regular internet. Internet doesn't exist at SAGU. We have our own internet proxies and everything. We're technologically advanced! HAA! I do believe the aim of I.T. is to screw over all of our laptops so that at the end of our stay here, we are left with heavy boxes of plastic that don't know how to function without the sagu proxies. Thanks, guys. And when your windows are smashed in one day, don't go lookin' at me. It's probably the other 1783 people that live on campus with future-crap computers.

7. Your Invited
This is grammatically incorrect. Don't know why? Get some schooling. Oh wait, you're already in COLLEGE!

8. People Making Out in Front of the Stairwells
PDA is gross. Period. End of story. Go get a hotel. I don't care, really. I just don't want to come to the stairs to find boy and girl sucking faces in front of me. Seriously, it's gross. I do not want to see that Public Display of Anything.

For the most part, my semester has gone wonderfully. I'm quite homesick, but sagu's student body and administration has definitely kept me occupied.

After all, if we didn't have these ridiculous impracticalites, it wouldn't be sagu.