After a summer of endless commutes, uncomfortable swamp-ass, and a variety of medical conditions, my time in Virginia/DC came to a close. From there, I embarked on my wonderful two-day road trip to Oklahoma. On the bright side, I was expecting to spend at least 21 hours on the road but somehow made it in a little over 18 including pitstops. Plus, no run-ins with the law. And who says I’m not a good driver?
Highlight of the trip/Scariest moment of my life:
I stopped just west of Memphis, TN in a town creatively enough called West Memphis, AR. (Fun things that have happened in WM: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Memphis_Three) I found the closest motel and booked a room. I was on cloud nine because I had made such good time the first day and could now relax in my luxurious Super 8 suite. But, when I was returning to my room after hitting up the local Taco Bell, I had a conversation that freaked me the fuck out. Here’s how it went.
Sketchy guy standing outside Super 8: Hey, I know you, don’t I?
Me: Excuse me?
Sketch: You’re from Virginia, right?
Me: Yeah (walk off)
Moments later, I realized that the only way he knew I was from Vir-jayjay was by seeing the license plate of my car. And then it hit me. HE WAS GOING TO STEAL MY CAR!!! I went from being in a great mood to being paranoid that I was going to wake up the next morning stranded with no car. So, the whole night, I woke up almost every hour, walked to the window to check that my car was still there, and then went back to sleep. Luckily, Cleatus (my vehicle) was still there when I finally got up and I hauled ass out of WM.
Where duh friends?
Made it back to OK safely, finally got settled in Norman and then….(cricket, cricket). Where are my old friends? Oh wait, they all graduated and moved away, dated a friend without telling me and now it’s awkward, or just stopped talking to me for some reason. Cool beans, right? So, I’ve had my make-new-friends clothes on the whole time I’ve been back. New roommates, study abroad buddies, and co-workers have all been good sources of friends. I went to my first APO meeting last week. It made me so sad. Everyone looked at me like “Who da feck are you and why you be up in my APO meeting?” (or at least they did in my head). I’ve only been gone for a year and somehow I went from friendly, funny fellowship chair Peter who was the president’s roommate to old balls. This won’t deter me though. If I could, I would sing this everyone in APO and e’eryone I want to be my friend:
(And yes, I would wear that same outfit)
I’ve known since before I started college that I was going to go for four full years. I mean that’s normal, right? Sure, I went to a special high school in Costa Rica for two years and therefore, I graduate when I was 19, but graduating university at 23 isn’t too old, is it? Well, my mom begs to differ and openly voiced her opinion this summer. She told me I’m almost 30 and it’s about time I graduated. No joke. So, thanks to Carol Ann, I now feel friendless AND old. I started my first day of classes and instantly wanted to flash forward to graduation day May 2012. It was hard for me to realize that I was in class with people who were potentially 19 or 20. Gross! But, after the first week, I now realize that I can suck it up and finish my senior year without age being a problem. You know what is a problem? There be so many dumb people in my classes! I guess that’s due to the fact that I’m taking three Spanish classes where the language of instruction is English. Go figure! I’m also taking a class about Judaism for my Judaic Studies minor and because I love da Jewcy Jews! But what do you think we talk about in that class? CHRISTIANS!!! I guess that’s what you get when you go to school in Oklahoma where everyone just wants to talk about their own religion, why it’s the best thing since tater tots, and then convert you.
A letter to American GAYS
After my last blog post, I feel that I had to incorporate this topic somehow. Gays in America are no fun, in my opinion. Why? Because they don’t like me. They either think I’m disgustingly ugly or that I’m trying hardcore to hit on them. 1. I’m hot stuff and 2. Don’t flatter yourself. So, what’s my plan? DON’T.TRY.AT.ALL. Gays are stereotyped as having a keen sense of fashion and high hygiene standards. Well you know what? I’m not going to. Listen up gringo gays! You’re going have to put up with my mismatched frumpy clothes, hairy body, and pasty skin. That’s right. You didn’t want it when I tried so feck off. Get your hairspray cloud AWAY from me, betches!
But overall, things are going well here in Norman. It’s definitely taking some time to adjust, but if I can live in Turkey for a year, I’m sure I can figure things out here pretty quick. Gonna miss my number one Asian Persuasion and mistake pickle eater Cindy Sue when she leaves, but I’m glad our paths crossed once again. Until we meet again faithful blog readers.