All’s Quiet on the Third Floor Front

It’s rather odd that I write this journal entry, because usually something has happened so that I want to write an entry. But nothing has happened and now I want to write an entry. Why? Because something seems amiss on this floor. The floor just doesn’t seem united as we all go to dinnner on our times, without any big rallys for food or anything of that sort. Perhaps there are, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because of my weird schedule that doesn’t allow me back to the dorm ’til 6 and not allowing me to spearhead any form of rally. Maybe they have them and I’m just not around to join. Or maybe I’m just isolated as I bomard myself with constant reading and studying and surfing the web.

Maybe a lack of partying has kept the floor quiet. It’s also kind of odd how nobody’s getting seriously intoxicated nor are there parties on the second floor to get people intoxicated. It’s a good thing really as there is no destruction of property. I mean I doubt any of us can forget the times the bathroom has been trashed, when the tables in the lounge got stacked, or when that guy vomited on the couch, but it’s not exciting either. At least all the bad stuff on the floor bonded us in disgust. Like the time that guy puked all over the couch and carpet in the lounge. We didn’t stop talking about that for a while and we still keep looking out for more.

Of course, we’ve been close to having things happen, but they just fizzle out. A bunch of us on the floor were looking forward to showing a high school kid the ropes with a stay over program, where they live in one of the rooms for a day. We all had out own ideas for what to do with him or her, from where to live to where some important buildings are and such. Unfortunately, those plans evaporated, as nobody appeared to claim the list where we all put our names. I know I was disappointed, as I came here because of the stay over program and wanted to do the same for another kid. Funny story, though. Vicki had brought a tour group over to the dorm and someone asked to see one of the convereted triples (rooms that used to be doubles). She then brought them to our room, where they happened to see a huge mess and a Playboy on Fred’s desk. The mothers must have been cringing at the idea that their sons would live in a room like this.

More than likely it might just be the fact that we’re going back to small groups. I mean we all have our own clubs and schedules to take care of. In an effort to do that, we just go into our own little groups who meet our needs and share our interests. I don’t know, maybe it was this way in the fall semester too, just less noticable.

I still think this is the coolest floor on Ida Sproul, though. Maybe we’re just in a rut or I’m just thinking too hard about this. Or maybe, just maybe, I need to stop blogging and start doing something.

Odd news-Dog Survives Car Crash, Gunshot, Freezer-You just have to read this to believe it