Moron

My roomate should not be allowed to watch tennis. He clearly lacks the emotional and mental stability to withstand a best of five set match, especially when the first two sets go to tiebreakers. He also doesn't know his political right from left, the difference between Ben Folds and Dave Matthews, or that his Italian accent is terrible.In shot, my roomate is a moron. He's educated, savvy, smart even, but he is quite clearly a moron. And this doesn't seem to bother him or anyone around him.
It's been interesting to see just how many morons manage to infiltrate institutions of higher learning. I've come across some first class idiots in my travels. Surprisingly, even institutions for "gifted" students have their fair share. Many of these idiots have impressive resumes, absurd numbers of college credit and high-dollar scholarships. I fear many will end up getting much better grades than me. How is this possible?
Well, for starters, I walked out without my key today. Twice. In the course of an hour. Fortunately Rob was here to let me in and no damage was doen, but the problem is still the same. I'm a moron and appear to be (given my lineage) destined to remain this way for awhile.
The more I think about it, the more ridiculous the world seems. We are, after all, talking about a place where people pay for bottled water. Dan Quayle couldn't even spell potato. And my friend Megan, who has a car very near her dorm, responded to my request that she "pick me up" in a downpour by walking across campus and handing me an umbrella.
So maybe it's ok to be a moron. The world needs its stupidity, without which everything would be efficient and absolutely no fun. That's why I'm going to try out for Chi Rho, an a cappella group at WFU which is waaaaaay out of my league, even if it makes me feel, well, like a moron. Because even though I probably didn't even spell a cappella correctly, I gave it a try. That's worth something, right?

Here We Go

I'm now done with two days of class and, believe it or not, I got into the exact classes I wanted to. Now I just have to learn to speak spanish, diagnose micro and macroeconomic ills, understand the spiritual and literary precedents of a little book I like to call the Bible, oh, and learn how to program a computer. No problem.
Knowing exactly which classes I'm taking is nice, but knowing that now I have to take them is not. I've become rather comfortable here in a relatively short period of time. Now I'm not getting to sleep as much and I actually kind of miss part of my social scene. Who knew I had a social scene? So here goes: it's time for the hard part. I'm off to get some software on my laptop to support Java programming and then to learn espanol. Ever feel a little in over your head?

Restart

You may have noticed a new title for this blog. I always feel out of place in large groups of people, especially when I don't know most/all of them, and so I thought I might call this "Stranger in a Strange Land." But then I remembered that I've been on/around this campus pretty much my whole life, so I thought the present moniker more appropriate.
I'm now four days into my college adventure and the first pangs of homesickness have finally set in. I knew they were coming and I'm proud to say they're by no means severe, but still, it's not my best moment. I've just gotten off the phone with Crystal, and as always, she helped me with my problems. I don't deserve her.
Preschool, despite the condescension implied by its name, was enjoyable and I certainly give it my reccomendation. Already I'm eyeing a spot in Chi Rho, a male a cappella group who performed for us. Odds are not good I'll make it, but I think I'm going to try. All in all, I'm glad I went to Preschol. I don't know whether or not I'd like to go back next year as a leader, but I haven't ruled it out.
My room is now set up and I have a computer of my very own. I even have a fancy schmancy carrying case, courtesy of my dear father. It is far too early to make any accurate predictions about whether or not we'll get along and live well together, but early indications are promising. Rob seems calm, easy to get along with, and best of all, he's already spent a good deal of time outside of the room doing who knows what. This means lots of time watching whatever I want on television; I'll be just fine.

Since I wrote that last paragraph three friends (well, two friends and a roomate) have come and gone and a fine game of nerts has been played. Hope springs eternal, and for now I'm feeling...ok. For my first real departure from home, ok is as good as I could hope for.