Wednesday, October 11, 2006


Ok, I know I want to say some things, but I'm not sure what I want to say, or how to say it. This should be fun.

Hall Ball:
As you know, Hall Ball is on on the 21st of October. (You didn't know the date? Well now you do.)
Tickets go on sale tomorrow. (There has been a big to-do on WebCT about the price and whether it's worth it or not. My comment: "A dress" "Shoes" "Unlimited alcohol" - I'm there!) Despite the fact that no-one yet has tickets, a table sign-up sheet went up today. By the end of first dinner session, all tables were full. (There was a list started of people who weren't lucky enough to make it onto a table.) Apparently they've (HC) only planned for 150 people. That seems very very misunderestimated to me but we'll see. I'm predicting a riot before dinner tomorrow when tickets do go on sale.

My door:
My door has a sticker of The Jungle Book on it. So does everyone else's door that is in our Area. We are the Jungle Book area.
Unlike almost everyone else in the Hall, my door does not have my name on it. They all have these printed slips that tell you their names - which presumably were put on at the start of the year so everyone could find their rooms without having to understand the room numbering system or being able to count.
Moreover, no-one had come to my room. Actually this is a lie, but no-one who would be likely to drop in at any moment of the day or night had been to my room. I like it this way.

Unfortunately, in my attempts to find friends (don't worry, I'm over it now) I embarked on a quest which traversed (is that even a word?) many of the corridors of the Hall, including the one with my door in it, and I was stupid enough to say, "Hey there's my door," as we went past it. I was also stupid enough to agree to go out on a Sunday at an indeterminate time, which involved someone coming to my room when said indeterminate time arrived.

And so it happened that someone with the best of intentions put pretty things on my door, came and stood outside my door to show said pretty things to someone else, and that all these aforementioned people can now find their way to my room at any time, guided there by the lack of anonymity on the door. On the door that leads to my room. MY door to MY room. With me?

Am I being a whiny bitch? Yes I am. See? This is why these people should have run away at the first sign of friend-making, not been the ones to encourage it. I'm a whiny bitch.

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