11/15/13

Moo. #RippleEffectUBC

Hello all you beautiful people.

Can you believe we’re two weeks away from the end of term? -insert pause as I cry my eyes out and have a mental breakdown- Things are getting crazy for everyone – term papers, “mid”terms, final reports…. I have been fairly out of it myself as well.

In case you guys didn’t know, there’s been this campaign going on around campus, called the Ripple Effect. It’s to raise awareness on the importance of sustainability and reducing our carbon footprint.

The thing is, I’ve never actually had the time to visit any of the Ripple Labs on campus over these two weeks. I’ve heard people talking about the amazing 3D chalk art in the SUB, and I’ve seen the little electrical buggies sending people straight to class. But me being me, having the attention span of a teaspoon and living mostly in my head, I missed all of it. Or should I say, all but one.

I made my way to the back of the MacMillan Building yesterday to get some cow action. I have always been an animal person (they don’t judge you when you say stupid things), and seeing the cows brought me embarrassing amounts of joy and a sense of serenity. It’s also crazy impressive how they pulled out all the stops and brought cows to our campus.

(I also have no pictures because my phone conveniently broke… It’s amazing how so many things can go wrong sometimes.)

Here a picture from the internet instead

 

Sustainability aside, cow-watching definitely helped my current mental state. I know things are getting a little out of hand for everyone (I never knew I could complete so many essays in one night, shall we say), but be sure to take care of yourself. Think about it this way: no one cares if you get poopy grades in your first year. No one in charge of grad school admissions cares. No fancy corporate guy in a suit cares.

Unless you’re not in first year. I should stop generalizing, we learn that in class…..

 

10/30/13

Puppy Love

I can’t tell you when it began.

Maybe I just slipped without noticing, losing just a little bit of the already precarious hold I have. Perhaps I lost focus one day, and everything went spiralling down.

I am so stressed.

Now, I am a little embarrassed to admit this, because some upperclassmen in Arts have talked about how they never had anything to do in first year (what on earth?!) and everyone thinks we’re supposed to be really chill and smoke weed and talk about how things are gnarly and so rad. I also feel bad because I probably have no idea what the kids in engineering feel. Maybe I just have crappy time management skills. Maybe I need to step my game up.

But I digress. Possible reasons aside, I’m tired. I’m not lucky enough to be able to function without many hours of sleep like some. I am a creature of rest. I am a monster of snores. I thrive on being dead to the world. Now I fall asleep in classes, and I even missed one shift in the cafeteria because I couldn’t wake up (yes, it’s the 7am one. Worst decision I’ve made so far, taking that shift). The worst part is that the more I’m stressed, the more I don’t want to do work. And when I have uncompleted work, I go berserk. It’s a vicious cycle.

“I just want to sleep, you know.” I’d say to myself, near tears. The blank page in Microsoft Word would mock me with its glaring brightness.

And then the walls would start laughing and calling me names, saying I’m crazy for talking to myself. Then I’d defend myself, you know, because the wall was talking to itself as well, talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Or stainless steel. But apparently they were talking to my dresser. And that’s when I knew I had gone bonkers, because the dresser is usually silent.

Maybe my past self did something right for once – she foretold my mental breakdown and signed up for a session with a dog in the UBC Wellness Center in Irving.

Now, Wednesdays are intensely busy for me. When I don’t oversleep, I wake up at 6.30am, work, have an hour’s break, and head to back-to-back classes until 4. The dog visits are only between 12 – 1 on Wednesdays, and that so happens to be the same time as my Sociology class. But screw that, I thought. I want to see a dog. You have no idea how much I love dogs. Every time I see someone walking their gorgeous little pooch on campus, I want to run up and play with them, and it takes all of my energy and lots of squealing just to restrain myself. So boo to Sociology.

(Disclaimer: This is not the right attitude to have towards your classes. Please attend lectures diligently.)

(If you’re my prof or TA and you’re somehow reading this AND know who I am… I’m sorry.)

In case you didn’t know, you can sign up to play with a dog for 10 minutes every day in the Wellness Center. You can get more information here.

This is Jasmine

This adorable little cockapoo nearly licked my hand off. I was so overjoyed to be able to actually play with a dog for once that I flew into that room and went all maternal and started speaking in my doggy voice.

“Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?”

The essays and readings may be piling up, but don’t forget to take some time to relax. Maybe you like to jog (which is something I cannot identify with at all, I’m sorry), or maybe you like singing at the top of your lungs or killing pixels in the shape of humans (this I identify with). Being 20 minutes late to Sociology and busting into the lecture like James Bond, and having people give me dirty looks was completely worth spending time with Jasmine.

What do you like to do to relax?

(I like to eat to de-stress, which just ends up making me depressed and angry when I gain weight, which makes me want to eat again…. )

10/18/13

Friday Nights

Parties. Alcohol. Music. Dancing.

 

Not for this girl. For one, I am not good with alcohol. Before you go gasp alcohol taboo topic what what what, alcohol consumption is a real thing among first year students in residence, and I think it’s common knowledge that many underage students here at UBC drink. YOU MUST FACE REALITY. Plus, I am actually of age back home, so I could potentially chug gallons of it if I wanted to. Just not here. But a sip of vodka or beer or wine or whatever leaves me choking and near tears. Contrary to an earlier post, I am not that masochistic.

On the other hand, I don’t like parties. I’ve experienced some raised eyebrows in my direction when I mention this sometimes, which just makes me a little mad on the inside. Some people like fish, and some people like chicken. Some people like parties, and some people just don’t, you know.

It’s okay if you do, really. I can see the appeal… maybe. I went to two frat parties and I had so much fun. So much fun that I never went back again. I get really persnickety about physical proximity and gestures of affection with friends – I only feel comfortable being touchy-touchy after I hit a certain point in my friendships, so I honestly don’t see how I would find grinding with strangers fun. I mean, I’m the kind of person who finds mindless small talk extremely boring and taxing. Heck, I’m not even good at pretending that I’m good at it. I ended up standing in a corner of the dance floor, live-tweeting the frat party to my friends from across the world. Yeah. I’m that girl. Sorry.  

My idea of a fun Friday night just happens to be locking myself up in my room, and going on the internet, watching bad Korean dramas, random videos, and stuffing my face with snacks. That doesn’t mean I don’t like going out with friends or being obnoxiously hyper. I’m just a tad reserved and a little bit introverted, that’s all. I just need a lot of time to myself.

So if you spend your Friday nights indoors, or taking walks by yourself (and meeting drunk people who mistake you for a thug and challenge you to a fight.) (That really happened) (really), or just meeting up with a good friend, you are not alone. If you like gorging on Ben and Jerry’s or whatever, catching up on television shows or whatnot, you’re not the only one. There are more of us out there. We’re just probably not going to meet each other anytime soon, because we’re all cooped up in our rooms.

10/11/13

The Drop

Hello muchachos!

I have pretty much settled into a routine now. Not to say that I wasn’t used to university and being in a whole new environment, yadda yadda yaaa, but I now have a routine that I abide by. My whole life is basically just me, trying to nap whenever I can. That’s about it. In fact, I just got up from a toasty little siesta in Koerner, and another quick cat nap outside on a bench by the flag pole not too long ago.

Can you believe we’re in the middle of the term already? There’s only like a month (?) to go, which is cray. Why are university terms so short? The work has been piling up and I often find myself eating away my sorrows in the dead of the night. Pocky is my friend. Ramen is my friend. Liszt’s paraphrase of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March is my friend when I’m stuffing my face and (figuratively) crying at stupid o’ clock. I’ve only gained one pound so far, in spite of the insane amounts of sugar I’ve been shoveling into my body. Lucky me. Probably because of all the walking I do from Totem to Buchanan and the Anthropology/Sociology building. My exercise used to be rolling around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position…. That’s it.

The past week or so has been a blur. I feel like I’m in The Hangover, only there hasn’t been any drinking or parties involved, because I am one of the more subdued first years. COUGH. I recall cursing the world as I woke up at 6.30am to get ready for my 7am shift in the Totem kitchen, and I also finally met your favourite first year Blog Squadder Derrick, who, while intensely funny and adorable online, is more amazing in person. [This is a paid advertisement.] But what really happened, was that I got my assignments back.

In university, you are bound to be registered in a really weird course that turned out to be the opposite of what you expected. TABL100 – Basics of Table Manners? Cool, you think. You will probably be learning about how to be a proper lady/gentleman, and you will gain all sorts of valuable insights into the art of etiquette. A few weeks in, and you realize that you’ve been misled. What are you doing, learning about ballroom dancing and how to properly sit inside a limousine? If you’d wanted to learn that, wouldn’t you have taken SNOB 100 instead? What is this doing in your class?

Well, I have one class exactly like that (which I am not going to specify), and I recently got my marks back.

I don’t want to sound like a complete butt, but I was an extremely good student in Grade 12. Grade 1 to 11, not so much (I got 12 marks on a Physics test once… Good ol’ days). But I completed Grade 12 in a Canadian school, as opposed to the national curriculum, and I did incredibly well. I’m not going to specify how when why what, but I was a pretty damn good student.

But what I got back for that class, was easily 15 – 20 marks lower that I would have gotten just a few months ago. Sure, I could make excuses and say that the assignments were ridiculously ambiguous and abstract. Sure. It’s not even like I wasn’t prepared for this – I knew that a drop in grades was to be expected in university. I knew that getting anything above 90 wasn’t going to be a walk in the park anymore. But knowing and actually experiencing something are two completely different things.

So I experienced a little bit of a crisis for a while. What am I doing in university? Did UBC make a mistake accepting me? Where is my brain? Am I even smart enough for university? Am I going to fail out of first year? What is life? What is x when y=4? Are the hobbits going to Isengard? And when am I going to do my laundry?

I recovered quickly, though, with the help of copious amounts of chocolate bars and some potato chips. I wasn’t going to let something that trivial knock me down. I am strong. I am invincible. I am gaining weight. I would learn from this experience, and emerge as a wiser, worldly person. “Why do you look so different?” People would ask, gaping at me in wonder. They’d sense that I have changed, that something has somehow shifted.

“I don’t know,” I’d reply, flipping my hair. “Maybe I’m born with it. Maybe it’s Maybelline.”

Well, I guess that’s just first year for you. You make mistakes, and you learn from them. You fall, but you get back up. Or maybe you don’t, and that’s just too freaking bad.

 

I still have to do my laundry. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

10/2/13

Of self-loathing and decidedly athletic things

I have a complicated relationship with my past self. It’s all sorts of complicated. It’s like those relationships where sexual tension is so rife in the air, but there’s still all sorts of passive-aggressive behaviour, rampant and angsty subtweeting and intentionally vague Facebook posts about how much it hurts. I simultaneously love and absolutely detest my past self. I love her because she is (was?) me, and I am full of self-love. So full of it, that some people might describe me as being narcissistic, but the haters will continue to hate while I remain fabulous. But I also hate my past self, I HATE HER SO MUCH, because she says stupid things that make the both of us look intensely awkward and rather silly, because she does things that I wouldn’t, and because she makes the most unthinkable decisions that never affect her, but me. I have to pay for her mistakes.

An instance of this extreme stupidity would be how my past self decided to accept a shift at the Totem Caf that starts at 7am. SEVEN. FREAKIN’ AYY AM. No sane person is up and about before seven, bright-eyed, walking around with a skip in their step and a pip in their pep. People who are actually capable of that are not normal. They are secret agents from an ambiguous agency with an equally ambiguous acronym, stealthily infiltrating the very fabric of our society and threatening to tilt our world on its axis. But I digress. My past self signed up for a shift that begins at 7am. What part of that does not scream stupid?

(Yes, I work at the Totem Cafeteria. I may blog about that another time.)

So you see the crazy dynamics between my past self and I? (Actually, it seems to be more of a one-way relationship since my past self can’t interact with me, but I believe my ardour will be returned someday. *sniff*.) I was feeling the exact same way on Sunday, colourfully cursing my past self – and oh, I am pretty creative when it comes to getting vulgar – as I rubbed my numb fingers together, shivering like a jelly in an earthquake on Jericho Beach.

I know. Nice segue.

Yep. I signed up for The Day of the Longboat. Mostly because I was in the whole spirit of omg-I’m-at-university-new-beginnings-new-everything-let’s-do-new-things-just-because-we-can, and signing up for this event seemed like the obvious thing to do. Plus, I’ve always wanted to try my hand at rowing. I didn’t know where on earth I was going to find a team, because my social ineptitude and decidedly off-putting awkwardness has effectively obstructed me from becoming bosom buddies with every random stranger. But luckily for me, the RA on the second floor was looking to form a team. Sugar, spice, and red hot flames – the Shuswap Superheroes were born.

As it turned out, the weather on Sunday was pretty shi crappy, but we still braved the rain and cold to row a longboat. Remember what I said about hating my past self? Yep, I was full of self-loathing when I stopped being able to feel my fingers. I wanted to go home. Boo.

Then the race began, and I hated myself even more. Rowing takes stamina, man. I am a former athlete who has succumbed to the decadent pleasures of stuffing my face and rolling around in bed; I think that’s pretty self-explanatory. My arm hurt, our longboat was being crazy pants (almost tipping over, among other things), and my butt was soaked. Not fun.

But this story has a happy ending, like all stories involving me do. My team – comprised mostly of people who had never touched a paddle before – started moving in sync. The rain started to feel pleasant. The ache in my arm started to hurt so good. Our vessel stopped tipping from side to side and began moving like a dream. This was it.

And now I am going to ruin the climax of this story by jumping ahead and telling you that we advanced into the next heat, but we were all starving and just wanted to go home and eat. I got a cut on my thumb from vigorous rowing, but I will tell you that the adrenaline rush and the sudden euphoria that comes flooding in after I finished the course was worth the pain, the cold and earlier feelings of misery. I would be down to row anytime now. So down.

So I leave you with this: You MUST do the Day of the Longboat before you graduate. DO IT. Even if you end up not liking being in a boat and moving your arm in repetitive motions, you can brag about it to anyone who’d listen. Everyone knows that people who have rowed longboats are so fetch. It is so in.

Next up on the list… Storming the wall? Stay tuned to find out.

09/24/13

Of masochism

I have sorely misjudged myself.

How can one not know themselves, you ask? How can you not know who you are, what you like, what you don’t like, what makes you sad, what makes you want to smash walls and flex your imaginary muscles? How can you not? Apparently, you can.

See, I’ve always thought of myself as a “tough” person. I studied martial arts for about seven years, and I used to be insanely athletic before I became lazy and got fat. I also have a tendency to be sarcastic to the point of being almost mean, and some would describe me as sadistic. Really, guys. Really.

However, recent events have taught me otherwise. Apparently, I crave pain. I love it. I am almost masochistic, even. Oh how do I love it, let us count the ways.

(That was a Shakespeare reference and I hope someone caught it, because I don’t usually make Shakespearean references and it would be mighty embarrassing if it fell flat.)

1.  Fall Autumn (I am not going to conform to North American English, people. You will not corrupt me.) is here. Temperatures dropped all of a sudden. First, it was hot. Then it was cold. What the hell, Vancouver? 

Anyway, I love the cold. I love it. I go to classes dressed the way I would for summer. Pfft, who needs a jacket? You’d think that because I have lived in a tropical climate for like, oh I don’t know, my entire life, I might be wearing layer upon layer, but no. Noh. I wear flip flops too, but mostly because I am too lazy to put on real shoes. My fingers get numb from the chill and they hurt, but I love it. Oh how I love it. I revel in the feeling of the cold wind biting at my face and nipping and my fingers. I love how it hurts. So badly.

(But I will wear a winter coat when I have to. Don’t worry mom, I’m not going to die of hypothermia.)

2. I always complain about how I have so much work to do, readings that pile up endlessly and all that thinking I have to do… My brain just can’t deal.

But oh, it gives me so much pleasure. I love being busy. I love being pressured, and feeling like there’s not enough time. I enjoy how I sometimes have to stay up at night to do work, and I whine about how little sleep I get, but with each whine, I feel like my life has purpose. I feel like the god of unicorns and rainbows are smiling upon me and blessing me with the most radiant of rainbows and unicorn puke. I feel like the birds are squirrels are performing musical numbers just for me. I feel like the world is shifting into place, like there is real magic in the world, like ice cream sandwiches aren’t bad for you, like I can eat whatever the heck I want without ever gaining weight.

3. I visited the UBC Farm recently. If you haven’t, you should go check it out (and pay a visit to Menchie’s when you’re done!). The roads near the farm smell like manure and other generally foul-smelling stuff, but the farm is a pretty cool place. It also makes for a pretty sweet spot to take new profile pictures, if you ask me.

Anyway. They have chickens in the farm. Not just any kind of chicken, but FAT, FLUFFY chickens. They are some of the most ridiculously adorable creatures I have ever laid my eyes on. I am normally not a fan of chickens, because all they do is cluck around and do nothing, but UBC Chickens are SO cute.

Yeah, yeah, Jay. Get to your point. Nobody wants to read about chickens.

Well, you see, the chickens matter in this case. I whipped out my phone to take a picture of those chickens, because really guys, who wouldn’t? I rested my arms on the fence to get a steady picture and…

I got shocked by the electrical fence.

I am not kidding. I got buzzed by a fence because I was trying to take photos of chickens. Why the fudge bunnies is there an electrical fence anyway?

See, I got electrocuted, and for a nanosecond I thought I was going to die. It felt like an army of hungry people were marching through my veins, asking for bread and heading to the Versailles palace. It felt like the ground had shifted beneath my feet and I was falling into my life as a 5th grader again. It felt like thunderbolts and lightning, very very frightening.

And I liked it. I liked it.

 

I may have to rethink my life.

09/17/13

State of the Union

Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today because Jay wants to talk about her life. This may come off as disgustingly narcissistic, repulsive even, but please do understand that she is an angst-ridden, emotionally constipated teenager who cannot address her feelings directly, and thus seeks validation by getting likes on Facebook, RTs on Twitter, and airing her grievances on the internet, among other things.

(I kid.)

Today, I will address the state of the union that is the many wonderful, adaptive cells that have come together to form these curious, slimy organs, which are a part of a system (as many good things are), which collectively form the body that I so happily (most of the time) reside in. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

Height: 158cm, 5′ 2″.

Gender: Female

Type: Human

Ethnicity: Chinese

Nationality: Malaysian

Weight: Unknown.

Status: Not homesick. Yet.

 

Walking

The union (henceforth referred to as “I” or “me”) has experienced many trips taken up and down Main Mall and various staircases. I am pleased to announce that my legs are slimmer now, and would like to thank UBC for this opportunity. Rock on.

The future may be an unpredictable thing, like my many mood swings, but I can confidently say that my years at UBC will prepare me for the literal paths that I will take.

 

Food

Alas, I do not know why many complain about the food in Totem’s Cafeteria. Deliciously overpriced wraps and salad… mmm. Everyone loves the grill but I have yet to discover the joy that is a greasy burger with onion rings.

In other news, our miners report that a gem has been discovered.

A beautiful confection, also referred to as an “ice cream sandwich”, has taken my heart and stomach by storm. It is believed that this magical artifact has healing properties.

I have also formed an unhealthy addiction to Booster Juice and Menchie’s. Vanilla flavoured frozen yogurt, topped generously with a mound of Oreos and cookie dough… Help. Numerous attempts have been taken to trick my brain into thinking that the copious amounts of walking will help stave off the legendary Freshman 15, but my increasing dependence on hot chocolate, vanilla bean fraps from Starbucks and Klondike Bars seem to indicate otherwise.

Help.

 

Social Life

What?

 

Academics

I am still stuck in dreams of summer, of burrowing under my blankets and not emerging from my cave until the sun sets. I dream of days where I would stay up till the proverbial rooster crows, killing various pixels that form the images of men with my pixel gun. I dream of a time long past, a time of relaxation, a time of guiltless weight gain, a time of laughter and intense boredom.

You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.

(I have two assignments due next Monday).

 

And thus concludes my address. My life has new meaning, now that you’ve wasted several minutes of your life reading this. The ego beast has been soothed, but only for so long, till the angst bubbles up again.

09/13/13

Procrastination: A heartwarming, coming of age love story.

“Genius…. An absolute tour de force.” – Kevin Ham, New Hog Times.

“Best of the year so far…” – Janice G., The New Paper.

“Two thumbs up! … A story that will make you believe in miracles.” – Lulu Flower Fairy, Fae Mail.

 

*****************

“Why aren’t you listening to me?” My date, Course Readings Assignments, whispers into my ear.

I look down, chagrined. “I’m sorry,” I say hesitantly. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What do you mean? We’ve been dating for a while now, and I think we make a perfect match.”

I stand abruptly, causing the cutlery on the table to rattle. Heads swivel around to look at me briefly, but then turn back to mind their own business.

“Course, I know you’re good for me, but I just don’t think of you that way.” My heart breaks a little on the inside as I tell him what I truly feel. I don’t know why it has taken me this long to be honest with him, and it’s almost as if a knife has struck my heart as I realize that I’ve lead him on for so long. How could I be so horrible?

Course pleads with me, grabbing my head and squeezing it tight. “Honey, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” His eyes are desperate, and I feel broken inside.

I tear myself away and feel my eyes water. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Not with all these people looking. “It’s not you, it’s me. You’re an amazing guy, but I just don’t feel happy being with you.”

“I’ve been so torn on the inside, and my best friend tells me I should end this once and for all.”

The hurt in his eyes vanishes for a short moment to be replaced by anger. “Jay, you know Twitter doesn’t know what she’s saying.”

“No!” I cry. The other patrons of the restaurant are transfixed, as if they were watching an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. A portly man with ruddy cheeks at the table next to ours chomps on his popcorn, eyes never leaving us. “Don’t talk about my best friend that way!”

I stomp out of the restaurant, escaping the stares. I am walking down the street, tears streaming down my face and blurring my vision. I didn’t expect breaking things off with Course to hurt this much. Even so, I feel relieved, more than anything else. Loss in my thoughts and feelings of self-pity, I am shaken out of my reverie when I walk straight into what feels like a wall.

“Whoa, there, little missy. Slow down,” A deep voice pours out and my body shivers reflexively. Not a wall. “Why are you crying?”

I sniff and look up. I forget to feel upset, and I feel my jaw drop open. The most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my entire life stands in front me. A sexy smirk plays around his mouth as he appraises me.

“Uh- I… Uh.” I find myself at a loss for words. I blubber and sputter awkwardly, rendered useless by his magnificence. Holy crap.

“Nice to meet you too,” He laughs. “My name is Sun, and I am hot. Literally.” In a normal situation, I would have laughed at that cheesy comment. But at this moment, I am basically a mindless bundle of cells.

“Yes, you are,” I say without thinking.

“You should come along with me and my friends,” Sun puts his arm around my shoulder and marches me down the road, taking charge of the situation. “We’ll have a lot of fun.”

“Uh. I… Yeah. What?”

“Oh, my friends are here!” I feel my legs begin to weaken when a group of ridiculously attractive men wave at us and walk over. Is this real life, or is this just fantasy?

“This is Facebook, Tumblr, and Random Shiny Things That Distract You.” He points them out as he says their names. “And this is Puppy Videos, and A New Song That Your Favourite Band Just Released.”

Their bright white teeth wink in the sunlight as they smile and say their hellos. I mumble something incoherent, dazzled by their charm, but they do not seem to think that I am crazy or off-putting.

“Jay!” I hear Course’s voice ring out from behind me. I whip around and see him, hair dishevelled and tie askew. “Don’t do this. You know how good we are together.”

“Course…” I begin. How does anyone do this? “I don’t think that that’s something I know.”

Mustering all of my strength, I turn around and leave Course behind. This is the start of my new life with my new friends.

 

I don’t look back.

09/11/13

What. Up.

It’s a phrase I’ve been saying a lot lately. I don’t know how it came about. Maybe it was a song, or maybe it was a friend (who is obviously a bad influence). There are probably a ton of other sayings that I could say, perhaps something really wise, something that would spur you to chase rainbows,start a revolution and change the world, but until then, I am most unfortunately stuck with “Whaddup”.

So whaddup, everyone.

I’m Jay, and yes, I am a girl. I hail from the Southeast Asian country of Malaysia, and it’s okay if you’ve never heard of it before. Really. After my enormous success in hoodwinking the admissions officers of UBC into accepting me, I am now a first year student in the Faculty of Arts! I also managed to slither my way into the Blog Squad. They didn’t even see it coming. I am that sneaky.

 

Yes, you do.

 

I’ve been in Vancouver since the 27th, and it already feels familiar and almost home-like to me. Trekking along the streets of Downtown for 8 hours every day has really prepared my feet for life at UBC. They don’t even hurt anymore. They’re just in this perpetual state of numbness and they creak whenever I flex them. I also live on residence! Reppin’ Shuswap y’all! When I first found out that Shuswap had co-ed floors, I was half-expecting hormones buzzing around, and pheromones so thick in the air that you could sniff them out. However, my floor’s pretty tame. A lot of us go to bed before 1 am. It’s a little like a retirement home with significantly younger inhabitants.

I enjoy random dance parties, surfing the waters of the Internet Ocean and hiding under my comforter with my imaginary friends (we just had a tea party yesterday. Mary ate too many cookies and got sick all over my bed). You can also see that I really like parenthetical statements. If you ever see me around, do come over and say hi. I am naturally quite reserved, but I will talk to you if you talk to me. Even I know the basics of social etiquette. And no, I’m not angry at you or anyone else. That’s just my face.

I’m actually not sure what I’ll be blogging about yet (my experiences in first year?), but I’m all about carpe-ing that diem, so I guess everything will just unfold naturally. I am so stoked about being here at UBC and even in my second week, I am still excited. For what? I’ll find out pretty soon.

 

I wish I knew how to end blog posts properly. They end just like books, don’t they?

 

And they lived happily ever after. The End.