Today. Day one of school. Officially. Not for me, though. That's tomorrow. Today was a jaunt around campus, exploring things and ogling people and things. For instance, I learned that the library has escalators. Again. This place is totally, all around, high fucking tech. I'm thinking there's got to be a standard HFT factor or ratio of some kind. It's out of control. Tonight. I was working on putting together some furniture. A favorite pasttime of mine. I realized that perhaps, if I want to not make my roommates hate me, or else evict me, I should cease my construction for the evening. I happened to be in the hammering phase of a set of drawers. A great way to earn points in my favor when it's ten o'clock at night and I'm hammering away without thinking twice about it.
A friend asked about what the people were like. I'm here to report that the people are crazy awesome. I'm basing this off aesthetics only, because I've met only like ten of the ten million people who live here. But. I'm pretty sure I've already heard at least fifteen different languages being spoken in various spots I've been to. I've seen people who are eight feet tall, and others who are a mere 3-4 feet tall (and I'm not talking about the kiddies). The diversity out here is one of its biggest assets. I love it.
On a related note*, it's been brought to my attention that the program I came here for is, according to every new person I meet in the speech department, "really hard to get into." I conversed with a number of speech students and faculty today, and here's a sample of how our conversations went:
Phil: Hi, I'm Phil. Other Person: Hi, I'm [name]. Are you a new grad student? Phil: Yep. I'm actually new to the area too. I've only been here since Friday. OP: Congratulations. You know, this program is really hard to get into. Phil: ... OP: Didn't you find it difficult to get accepted into the program? Phil: ... OP: ...
I'm not entirely sure these conversations were even held in English. I could have said something to the effect that I was once a pirate with a peg leg who traveled through time to get surgery to replace my missing leg and then returned to school to get my master's in speech pathology (change of career, you know), and they still would have said, "Wow, good job, it's really hard to get in here."
That remains to be seen, but I do know of a place that really IS hard to get in: my closet. Why? Because I recently acquired a zombie of the softest and fiercest kind: a sock zombie. He hangs on the door of my closet, ready to pounce and tear the snot out of anyone's socks who tries to enter. He's a force not to be reckoned with, especially if you care for your socks. He arrived in the mail today, and needless to say, I'm aquiver with fear and delight. Heck, I may even toss him into my bag for school and sic him on anyone who tries to use overused phrases regarding graduate school admission.
*Okay, so maybe that note wasn't related at all. But I needed some form of transition, and that's the one that won.