queelez

Despite any minor anxiousness about homework or directing.
Despite the fact that I miss home when I'm at college, and college when I'm at home.  (Ahoy there, conflict on where I belong!)
Despite one of my favorite hats not fitting me very well anymore

I'm incredibly happy at this point in time.  It's a very nice realization.

And to whomever's reading this (all thirty or so of my flist), I sincerely hope that you're feeling this way as well.  (And, if you aren't, I'm sure that you will soon).


PS:  Check this icon, made about half a year ago.  Black jacket, violet shirt.  I had many violet shirts at the time, but no black jacket.  Before I came back to college, I bought a black corduroy jacket.  And tonight I wore it with a violet shirt.  Did my icon predict the future?

Tonight was an extraordinarily eventful night in an extremely calm and quiet way.

Last Friday was my annual lots-of-stress-small-things-pile-up-oh-god-oh-gaaaawd night. (For those curious, disappointing math scores, various idiots at mealtime, getting slapped, RP troubles, and Yoga at seven-thirty in the morning in a room without heating when it was almost twenty below). It was a bit stressful, really, and it cumilated in my incredibly rare cry--but after a phone call with a friend of mine (Shoutout to my true love, Lauren), I felt better. The problems weren't solved, but at least things got better.

When night came tonight, I was a bit restless. It was an uneventful day as a whole, the most memorable decision being whether or not I wanted to go to Yoga after a rather rotten night's sleep. (I did, and it was fortunatly in a heated room today). I was pretty exhausted after dinner due to no reason whatsoever, and had already decided to not go to Nightsounds (a sorta variety show my friends are in), audition for the one-act (with the added excuse that some of my classes are going to murder me), or a gaming session downstairs (but I don't like the guy hosting it, so whatever). I did wake up a bit, though--hence the restlessness. I had to do something or other, apart from just alternate between Super Mario RPG and Chrono Trigger.

I was already a bit dapper (I've taken to wearing vests and tucked-in shirts now and again), so I thought I'd just go the whole nine yards. I took out my awesome frock coat (the Prom attire for you St. Paul-ites) and, as my winter hat clashes with it, dust off (literally) my bowler. I figured that I'd run down to the Ponzio, grab some chocolate or a pastry or something, and head on back and make some cocoa while watching a movie on my laptop or something.

So, I got down to the place, and a couple of my friends were there. It was a nice surprise, as I thought they'd headed off to Nightsounds--so I opted to buy hot chocolate down there and tart it up, to spend some time chatting away. We're nestled away in a corner, and there are a couple tables of Hockey-playing jocks nearby. I ignore them, as one of their friends (who wasn't there) singles me out during mealtime to try to raise my blood. For whatever reason, I start to describe to my friends the difference between a dork, a nerd, and a geek. One of the jocks is looking over as I talk, clearly interested, and comes over once I'm finished to hear it from the start. I comply, and another guy comes over and sits down. I jokingly ask if anybody else wants to listen.

Cue everybody in earshot huddling around our corner to hear what this weird guy with the coat and hat had to say.

I wind up giving a five-ten minute lecture on the social ramifications of geeks, nerds, and dorks--differences, examples, similarities, etc etc. I finish, people applaud, and most everyone goes back to whatever they were doing. Three of the jocks, though, hang out with us, and we start talking. (Brandon, Stevie, and...I forgot the last guy's name).

Our conversation covered a variety of topics--life at Northland, our respective hometowns, the Mall of America, TV when we were younger. The best part, though, was that after the initial chit-chat about my lesson, he said that he knew the guy who kept on shouting at me during lunch/dinner and told me not to worry, that he was just a dick to everyone. My opinion of the guy I was talking to (Brandon) grew.

The talk cumilated with a tag-team explanation of my voice and various hearing recovery procedures. (My friend, Emily, has a younger brother with much the same situation). After that, the two groups (Brandon and his friends, me and my own) go our separate ways, before I headed back to my dorm.

So, tonight I had some rather delicious hot chocolate, gave an improvised speech on a theory of mine, unexpectedly met up with friends, made new friends, and let my preconceived stereotypes crumble the slightest bit. And I was in Nineteenth-century formalwear.

It was a damn good night.