The Owl in the Attic and Other Perplexities

I am a fan of lists, especially cynical ones, pretentious ones, or undeniably weird ones.

Here is a list of oddities accumulated and behaviors adopted after my first year of college. No raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens here, though maybe the occasional bright copper kettle and warm woolen mitten.

1. Berryline, that irresistible little shop somewhere near the intersection of Bow and Arrow Streets in Cambridge. By most conservative estimates, I must have spent over $100 on little dollops of fruit-flavored yogurt.

2. Gchat, the indispensable replacement for AIM. I change my gchat status multiple times a day. Invisible is the new online.

3. Facebook stalking, incontrovertible proof that I no longer have social skills.

4. Large trashbags in the corner of the common room.

5. Reading nytimes.com obsessively in order to make up for lack of true political activism, then writing angry responses to extremist Facebook groups.

6. Singing all the time and everywhere, regardless of quality of voice. Or quality of song.

7. Eating veggie burgers with white bread from a panini machine. Only when the other option is congealed lamb gravy, of course.

8. Fretting nonstop about work and not doing any of it. Also known as procrastination.

9. Napping, oversleeping, and panicked calculation of how many minutes to allot to reviving oneself from a death nap.

10. All-nighters. I have all night (or morning). It’s all okay. I feel GREAT.

SNAKES ON A PLANE! EFFETE, OUTLET, CAMERA, USES OF A BLOG

I start to blog. Because I need an outlet for pretentiousness and also because, although I know this is totally undermining the sole purpose of my summer program, I need English for my sanity.

So, I will type extensive posts about strong and uninformed opinions that no one will read and it will be cool. Maybe a sprinkling of eccentricity and inside jokes.

And some photographs: my dad recently surrendered his super-awesome-amazing-coolest-ever Nikon camera to me for an indefinite amount of time. I hold it in my trembling hands and have taken thousands of pictures, most of which are faux-artsy, of Williamstown, a town insanely boring at the moment, albeit always beautiful.