I'm alive!

I know there was a time when I was a pretty diligent poster. That time is not now.

So, to sum up things, Yale is SWEET. I've been here for three weeks, and I'm loving it. Gorgeous, tons of people, awesome suitemates. There are ten of us sharing this apartment-type thing, and so far it's worked out pretty well. A couple of the girls are partiers, though, and one hosted "Margarita Happy Hour" last Thursday. That's an important thing I learned here: Thursday is the new Friday. Most people don' t have classes on Friday, so partying starts a night earlier.

Camp Yale, the week before classes started, was craziness. I went to my first frat party, which was Animal House incarnate.

I've run into Emily a couple of times. We have the same "ethnic counselor." What is an ethnic counselor? you might ask. I don't know, either, but apparently I need one. Anyway, there's a posse of support people...freshman counselor, res. college dean and master, academic counselor, big sib, ethnic counselor, etc. Craziness.

I'm taking some sweet classes; Introduction to Cognitive Science, Intro to Physical Anthropology (How Humans Evolved), Japanese and Reading and Writing the Modern Essay. Aside from academics, I'm a proud member of the YALE! PRECISION! MARCHING! BAND! To clarify, there are no bucket hats with tassels. We go to most of the football games in the fall and basketball games in the winter. It means we get a front row seat for The Game, too. Students arrange pop tunes and the band sets up halftime shows around them. The half-time show last Saturday was about Pluto's demotion from planetary status and the fallout from the subsequent discovery that Pluto is in fact full of OIL. Bush tries to move Pluto closer to Earth, and chaos ensues. We have to wear pants, which I of course in the rehearsal before the game. The flutes were quicker at assembling our planet, Uranus, so we decided to play Duck Duck Goose on the slippery field. I was the first casualty. Muddy-kneed and proud, baby.

I'm also turning into one of those monkeys with a typewriter, churning out words. I'm writing for The Yale Record (the monthly humor magazine), gunslinger (indie music magazine), and The Yale Daily News Arts & Living section, doing music and movie reviews. I'm not sure quite how it happened, but there it is. The Daily News seems to suck out people's souls, taking up time like a real job on top of school, only it's one you don't get paid to do.

Finally, I'm doing intramural sports. Co-ed volleyball on a field, anyone? I'm also greatly looking forward to inner-tube water polo in the winter. All twelve of the residential colleges battle to the death during intramurals for The Tyng Cup, a cup that has absolutely no significance, but we all lust after. Certain sports get points towards the cup, etc, etc. My college is currently in second place, and we plan to to usurp the one seat.

So, in conclusion, I approve of the nocturnal nature of college and the crazy numbers of people and things going on at all times. I just watched a dude bike down a main drag on one of those primitive bicycles with the gigantic wheel in the front and tiny wheel in the back. Watching him mount the thing without falling five feet to the ground was heart-stopping. College...fuck yeah!

Lovelovelove,
Meredith, no longer a delinquent poster....Over and out!