elephants overhead

Recently, I got asked to move out of campus housing and into the greater wilds of New York City. After saying-- and genuinely meaning-- that I'd think about, it seems that the universe is speeding up the thinking process.

A raucously elephantine party in the apartment above mine last night (not to mention the late-night entrance of my own, mutinous suitemates) has me thinking a lot more about dorm life. For the most part, I have had ideal dorm-living experiences, but this year has been pretty... different. I have never before lived in a "party dorm," and apparently this one is just that Thursday through Saturday. Last night, after calling the RA on duty, public safety, and berating my suitemates, I realized that I will always be a hermit, the curmudgeon-y guy who wants his peace and quiet after 1am. And maybe the best thing for me (and the University's obnoxiously exuberant party-goers) is for me to vacate the premises and carve out a new life somewhere else.

updates from Mo-Hi

I haven't updated this thing in so long. And it's not for a lack of material; so much has happened in my romantic, academic, and a cappella lives that I could go on and on for days. Not to mention the incredible wealth of stuff happening in the world at large. And Columbia is up to its same old shenanigans again, with professors assigning exams and presentations within the first three weeks of classes. I've joined the hive again for one more year.

Zsa Zsa Zsu

I feel as though something's happened to my motivation and my feistiness. Has becoming a member of a two-some made me both treacly and indolent? I guess we all expect relationships to enable a certain amount of sentimentality, but I'm beginning to feel as though the heady, almost hubristic confidence-- my response to harbored bitterness-- that got me into this great, healthy relationship has evaporated in some of this summer heat. The thing is, being in a stimulating relationship has offered me so much in the way of emotional well-being and, well, general happiness.

So what the EFF is going on?

For example, I was recently asked to write an article for the World Daily News' insert for prospective college students and their parents, an immense and unexpected honor, clearly. Long story short, it's not getting published because of word counts and blah dee blah Asad's an idiot. But worse than that is just how absurdly simplistic-- and almost formulaic-- the writing was. When I edited the piece, I felt as though I was reading the work of some simpleton 9th-grade writer. Yeah, it was that bad.

Perhaps I'm not responding well to no longer being a teen. Perhaps being 20 disagrees with the Peter Pan in me.

I need school to start. I need to be in New York. I need to again experience the terror and the thrill of the hand-to-mouth student experience. I want to smell the stale (central) air of an East Village thrift shop. I want to be and avert clichés. New Jersey is both under-stimulating and deeply uninspiring.

Where's the fuckin' zsa zsa zsu?

small wonders

I should not, but do, take pleasure in the fact that you are getting fat.

Munchies, perhaps?

capitalism done right

the title of this post is the line I intend to use when the folks at American Apparel ask me why I want to work there. Rather than saying, of course, that I'm a struggling art history student with bills to pay and moderately expensive taste in sweaters. Thoughts?

In other news on capitalism, I found this extremely entertaining.