Now that midterms are over I finally have a chance to sit back and think about things.  Things that are finally allowed to sink in and soak up a while.  I’ve reached the point where I can be compared to a sponge, saturated in every pore, and now I must start letting the stagnant water seep back out.

First, no matter how great my roommate is, and how thankful I am to have a good roommate, no two people are ever perfectly compatible.  She does a lot of little things that just don’t make a whole lot of sense.  For instance, she will throw cutting knives together with the rest of the eating utensils all in a heap.  This dulls the blades of the cutting knives and makes nicks on the other things.  Also, her sense of style is pretty good, but her sense of decorating sucks.

Second, brick walls are not soundproof.  Even though my apartment has brick walls, I feel intimately connected with my neighbors’ lives.  The girl in #2304 just had a messy break up, which she blamed on her boyfriend, but the night before the screaming match over the telephone she was making out with some wannabe Abercrombie and Fitch model.

The chick in #2302 moved into these apartments to be closer to the university, but actually I’m pretty sure the move was made to get out of her parents’ house.  I met her mom, and that lady is super defensive of her daughter’s high standards.  Little does she know her daughter is consistently out until 2am.

The Australian exchange student down the way just spent a couple thousand dollars on a new laptop, but all she’s going to use it for is checking her Facebook.  What a shame.

A girl who I almost roomed with, also had a recent break-up.  But I saw that coming because she slept with a random guy the very first weekend of school.

Third, I am no longer sure of what I would like to be when I grow up.  One thing is for sure though: I hate writing essays.

Fourth, nothing really makes up for family.  I’ve tried to create a family, but it doesn’t work.  Ninja, my beta fish, is very affectionate, but he is only a fish.  He hits his head repeatedly on his fish bowl every day because he hasn’t quite figured out how to eat his food.  He had it figured out for a while by using his dorsal fin to keep the food circling in the middle of the bowl until he could eat it, but now he seems to have forgotten his trick.  I love my computer, Stapplin, and I can make him talk to me, but he only says what I tell him to say.  I had a rat, but she bit me.  So much for love.