Archives for September 2000

In the “I though that was a feature” department: I have always worked under the assumption that all modems are knocked off the internet when call waiting interrupts their connection. Apparently, this assumption is false. As it was explained to me by the RCN helpline person, only older (cheaper) modems employed this “feature,” and since my modem is neither old nor cheap it lacks it. Which means i risk missing lots of important calls every time i go on the internet. Of course, the only person who really ever calls me is my mother, so i could hardly give a shit about the phone, but since Matt has no computer here he may or may not need the phone to communicate with other people.

Facilitating my apathy towards the call waiting situation is the fact that NSW gave me a cell phone to use for the next week, since i won’t really be stationary for more than an hour at a time. In fact, today i was out of my apartment from 9am to 10:30pm. Tomorrow looks to be my only respite from this schedule in the next week. Yep, i’m plenty excited. The only positive thing about it all is that i won’t be on the ‘net until past 11pm, and anyone stupid enough to call me that late doesn’t need to talk to me anyway.

In a massive waste of what could have otherwise been a rather pleasant experience, i spilled a half a bottle of carmel on myself at the coffee shop today. Oh, and i was passive agressive too. Yep, a day right out of my dreams. Back at the NSW command post now, working on the (2200) arrival kits. The rest of the NSW arrives Saturday at 8am… this is gonna be a long 36hours…

Well, i just had the golden opportunity to act just like my whiney ass self in a video that’ll be shown to all 2200 incoming Freshmen at Drexel. As if i didn’t have enough opportunity to embarrass myself already at this summer’s orientation. Our resident camera-man extraordinaire, Rick, directed us through a short “Peter’s first day at college” clip which included my “Mother” asking such classic questions as “Do you have enough underwear?,” “Do you have flip flops to wear in the shower?,” and “Do you need a jock strap?” The video was actually a nice stress reliever, as i was already dreading this day (3 hours of NSW, 7 hours of coffee, and then another 3 of NSW). Sorry about my incessant bitching, it’ll be over in a week.

More and more often i seem to be employing the bitch within to get things done. I’m not sure how okay i am with that, but i like the efficieny that goes along with it. A few people might consider me bossy or stubborn, but no one would classify me as a downright bitch ’cause i hardly ever exert my will that forcefully upon anything or anyone. Or maybe people do think i’m a bitch… i often wonder what other people think of me, since my exterior is so vastly different from my interior. I suppose i come off as a bit absent-minded, irreverant, and artsy, but i only partially subscribe to any of those traits. I can be absent-minded, but only about things that don’t matter to me (thus my expansive knowledge of musical trivia). I intend to be much more witty than irreverant, and while i certainly am artsy i’m actually quite a bit better at concrete science than i am abstract philosophy. Of course, the people at the coffee shop seem to think i can’t us the calculator we’ve got next to the register. They can go on thinking that, for all i care; i’m more worried about the people i refer to as my friends. Do any of them realize how much time i practice my guitar playing? They seem to mostly treat it as a whim a pull out at parties. Do they know that i can read three books in a day, did they think my empty head was better for listening to music? I’ve got to find a way to bring more of my insides out, because otherwise i won’t ever be that happy.

I think one of my new hobbies might become spying on the people across the street. So far one thing we haven’t bought for the apartment are blinds for the windows (other than that one in the bathtub), and our windows are on the front of the building looking out across the street. As it happens, the house across the street from us doesn’t seem to be too fond of the use of blinds either, which allows me to stare into their lives and visa versa. The windows looking in on the second floor of the house reveal a room painted a pretty green that is stocked with a computer and stereo. I’ve yet to spot anyone using either. The third floor is the dull yellow of an uncovered lightbulb, and so far i’ve seen a rather dumpy looking shirtless man walk back and forth a few times. I can never see his face.

Of course, in order to stare at these people, i’ve got to stand in the middle of a window and stare. Any random glance in my direction from the house across the street would reveal my rampant voyeurism, and i don’t think i’m smooth enough to pass my actions off as anything else.

Obviously i’ve got to get some mini-blinds to spy through before i wind up getting myself killed.