Morning ramblings.

Good morning, family.

I currently am seated beneath the shade of a majestic gingko tree, at 7:32 in the morning, when there is no need for shade because it’s the only reasonably temperatured time of the day in this desert, rejoicing in the fact that the school’s wifi has finally recognized that the security they gave me to download is compatible with their policies.

For the sake of literary development, I’ll be supplying your dialogue.

“Lydia, why are you at school? It’s the summer. Get a freaking life already.”

Well, that’s an excellent question, young ones. It turns out, that when one is in possession of a carpool with one’s timely and overachieving mother, one is denied all privileges of waking up and growling at such things that would involve a higher level of function, like walking or opening one’s eyes. I, however, woke up today at 6:00, packed a lunch, dressed myself appropriately, brushed my teeth, spoke incoherent words to my dog, who just gazed at me mournfully, as per the usual, and created tea, and I performed all these tasks sans growling.

You may be interested to know that as it turns out, Irish Breakfast Tea is a bunch of nasty crap in a bag that, when soaked in boiling water for an extended period of time, makes nasty crap water. As would be expected. Based on my observation, however, in which I was the unlucky test subject, I’m starting to wonder if there may also be drugs in the tea bag with the crap, and judging by the looks I got when I left the car to go to work today, my conclusions are not inconceivable. Hence, I was all wound up today, with no room to move, because seatbelts are safe and blahblahblah, and now this is happening.

Moving on to the question that I asked myself earlier, I am at school because I have a job there. So…ha. Also, yes. My mom does work at my school. Don’t laugh; she’s just a needy person, and we all can be like that sometimes.

“Okay, Lydia, that’s nice. I’m so happy for your achievement. What is your job?”

HA. What is my job. You silly little mouse people.

Actually, I don’t know why that was an insulting question. I do research on termite behavior.

“Termites? Really?”

That was an insulting question. Yes. Termites. They’re…adorable…

“So…does this mean you want to be an entymologist?”

Nope!

“Well…gosh Lydia, then what do you want to do?”

How about you’re not allowed to ask me that question, and when I get worked up enough about it, I’ll write a blog post about it. Okay?

“Well, why don’t you introduce another topic you can ramble about?”

Here’s a thought I had this morning: I’m studying abroad next semester in South Africa, and everytime I tell anyone that, the people my age all say, “That’s so sick! I’m so jealous! AHHHHHH *faint*” but all those who are old and gray or my parents seem to be highly disappointed in my decision. “Lydia, you know that’s not safe,” is the big winner in phrase bingo. And I say, “Okay, Mr. African Travel Expert, do you know the crime rate? Do you know the distribution of violence in the cities? Do you know where I’m staying? Because here’s what I know…” and then I spout off all of the stuff the program told me to say around nervous people. None of them seem convinced. At all.

And yeah, I’m sure South Africa isn’t the safest country on the globe, and I know that there’s a whole butt ton of precautions I’m probably supposed to take in order to be completely safe, but yesterday I received an email from the campus safety office, here, in America, where I go to school and live every day, that someone was stabbed

STABBED

not on campus, but nearby

STABBED

but apparently is okay, but

HE WAS STABBED.

What kills me (ooh, bad pun) is that at the end of the email, it said “Suspect description was unavailable because the victim was incoherent at the time.”

WELL YEAH, HE HAD JUST BEEN STABBED.

I’m discussing this with Chris right now, and his thoughts on the subject are, “Well this is an interesting place, that’s for sure.”

And now we’re discussing Lil’ Wayne, and Breaking Bad, and apparently, “…even though I’m a biology major, I would like it.”

?

The essence of this post is threefold: first and foremost, I wanted to warn you about cruddy tea and a local stabbing. Secondly, I needed something constructive to do while I ate my breakfast. Thirdly, and most importantly, I read a blog post (someone else’s, although yes, I do read my own blog) about how good writers utilize good verbs more than they employ good adjectives, and I desired for my writing to be improved upon.

That’s all. I have to go communicate with real people now/go to work/walk across the atrium to the lab and wonder why I don’t have any experiments to do.

“Bye!”

Bye!

"You hang up first!"

No, you!

“Are you confused yet?”

Me too!

…

fin.