This Friday night, I was on DUTY. Yes, DUTY is important enough to be spelled entirely in capital letters. In case you don't know what this entails (read: in case you are not an RA at Georgia Tech) DUTY is when you are armed with a flash-light, a stack of yellow cards, and a phone with the world's worst ring-tone and patrol the buildings and wait for people to call you for help. When I'm on DUTY, I feel like I'm a rabid hybrid-mall-cop-slash-prefect-straight-out-of-Harry-Potter. Past DUTY shenanigans include:
- Unlocking random doors at 4 in the morning
- Sprinkling crack-like powder on vomit in the elevator
- Battling a drunk dude, and
- Securing housing for a stray, rabid dog
Basically, DUTY is awesome. (Read: DUTY sucks.) This weekend, I was saddled with 24 hour DUTY. That's right. 24 hours. 24 hours of sitting in my room (or patrolling the building, pretending I'm a prefect) waiting for someone to call me so I could rescue him/her from mortal peril.
What in the world could I do in my room for 24 hours?
Let the record show that piles of Aerospace homework, cooking with random bits of leftovers, cleaning le room, and running up and down the hallways is not fun after about, oh, 45 minutes.
Which leaves 23 hours and 15 minutes. (See? GT has taught me something!)
Desafortunadamente, Roommate had gone home for the weekend, so I could not rely on peace-ing into her room every 15 minutes to keep myself amused. (I wonder if Roommate notices I do this… Oh well, I guess she knows now.)
Pulling open my handy-dandy computer, I started surfing the web. But Facebook’s not that exciting when you’re not actually procrastinating. In fact, my entire room – normally chock-full with gadgets of distraction – seemed rather dull. As my eyes searched my room for some entertainment, they alighted on a large bag perched precariously on my wardrobe. A suitcase.
With the strength of a thousand men – or really just one tiny girl – I hefted the suitcase down and opened it on the floor. To my surprise, there was already a suitcase with stuff inside of it. I opened that suitcase to find a plethora of assorted apartment things – organizers, utensils and dishwashing soap to name a few. Why in the world would I hide that away in a suitcase? Sometimes I confuse myself. A lot of times I confuse myself, actually.
Anyway, I decided that I might as well keep a suitcase inside this suitcase, since I had magically ended up with four suitcases at Tech, and I proceeded to start packing. With episodes of Psych playing in the background, I stuffed all my purses and all my tshirts in the oversized suitcase. Six episodes later, I had filled the suitcase to the brim. Extremely proud of myself, I surveyed my room.
To my utter dismay, I had only managed to clear 1 drawer of my wardrobe. That means I had to somehow fit 2 more drawers and my entire closet into the other 2 suitcases. This would take a miracle.
Naturally, at that point, I gave up.
I returned to my computer and gave Psych my undivided attention. A couple of episodes later, however, my attention started to wane. Again. I decided to check my email. Nothing is as exciting as checking email. I feel like a legitimate adult when I’m checking my email.
And that’s when I got it: a reminder email from the DOPP to set up a blog for this summer. A blog! I can start blogging! People around the world will be able to read my every thought and feeling! People can take my opinions into account! I’m going to be a famous blogger! Maybe Tom Felton will start reading my blog…
I immediately paused Psych and started looking for a website to start my blog.
And so here I am, blogging. Maybe I’ll actually be really good at this. Maybe I’ll post every day.
Most likely, I’ll stop after a month.
Unless I’m saddled with weekend DUTY.
UPDATE: On Wednesday, I had DUTY again. Someone woke me up at 6 in the morning to be let into their room. 6 in the morning! Can you honestly tell me that no one is in your 4 person apartment to let you in at 6 in the morning?! There goes my beauty sleep.
Duly not(ic)ed.
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