Close enough.

We're about a month into Third Year, folks. How terrifying is that? Well, if you're a twenty-year-old who yo-yos between being easily distracted from her work by anything going and Sudden Death Stress Mode, it's pretty damn scary. Things are going pretty well so far, though.

Well, barring that two week period (a.k.a. 'the first two weeks of classes') when I split my time between a hospital bed and my apartment.

Yep. The night after a glorious 'Welcome Back to College!' Star Wars marathon in our new flat I woke up all puffy and cute. Several trips to the hospital later, I was a medical mystery. It would have been cooler if Hugh Laurie were insulting my intelligence and popping pills all sexy-like, but, alas, most of my doctor dealings ran closer to the hospital scene from Idiocracy.

It's all gravy now. I think I've caused enough mental and emotional anguish for my loved ones for a while. Seriously. The levels of loveliness reached by everyone around me were borderline dangerous.

And Third Year Liz is a force to be reckoned with. She goes to bed early(ish), plans ahead, pays the bills, does (almost) all of her reading, and sends internship applications months before deadlines require. As I type this, I already have my schedule set to be in college all day.

'But you have no classes on Thursdays.'

'I know. I'd like to get into the library before my responsibilities start at noon. Secondary reading, you know.'

On the one hand, the fact that I am fast becoming the Squarest of Them All is making me sick. I mean, I never had much street-cred to begin with. This responsibility kick is going to seriously weaken my chances of getting into the T-Birds.

Por otro lado, I really hope it lasts. This kind of frenzy I've been working myself into reminds me of high school. Back in the day, I was a beast. I don't want to quite reach that level of insanity again, as I've become quite accustomed to more than three hours of sleep, but I do appreciate my down time a lot more when there is so little. My little cup of green tea tastes better because I earned that mofo. And because I treated myself to a super-neato trip to the tea shop, but whatever.

Things to keep in mind:

-I've only kept this nonsense up for a week and a half, so we'll see what happens.

-Buddy will always support me.

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Follower Love-Fest #13: Anne Brown

Annie here loves to Vogue. She just can't get enough of it. Ask her, 'Whatchu' lookin' at?' I dare you. It's a sure-fire way to get this little lady snapping her fingers and striking a pose like it's going out of style. Really, Anne just loves Madonna. We nearly parted ways during a lunch when I said that Madonna's arms make me want to curl up in a ball and hide behind Michelle Obama. I wound up wearing Anne's slice of Key lime pie in my hair on the walk home. Who looked stupid? I did.

Well, that lasted long.

Pictured: Several of the rocks I've been hiding under.

I intend to be up and running, clogging your feeds with YouTube links and some reference to baked good or another in the next few days. Until then, I give you the entry I had meant to post about three weeks ago. Progress is progress.

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Hello, kids. I'm a bad blogger and I know it. My constant dry spells and subsequent need for forgiveness are just part of my charm though, right? It was near-August when I last posted. Oops. Here are a few things I've learned since then.

-An instrument tuned to A440 'makes you a little nervous'. (Thank you, Steve Lindley.)

-Couples love me. I don't know what it is, ladies and gentlemen, but something about me puts romantic duos in a giving mood. Give me your spare water bottle? Sure. Let me move to the front row of the concert? But of course. Swipe me through when my MetroCard isn't working? Don't give it another thought.

-Teaching hospitals are considerably less fun than an episode of Scrubs when you're on the patient-side of things.*

-It is possible for me to send several letters to the wrong addresses. Twice.

-Rabbit is delicious.

-Telling your brain to shut up when a situation is entirely out of your hands will make for a much more enjoyable time. I mean, there's nothing you can do about potentially being trapped on a island, is there?

-Road rage is easier to manage with a rubber orca in the passenger's seat.

-Airport security personnel really appreciate winter-wear.

-Finding the ridiculous nightshirt of your dreams is well worth the risk of bed bugs.

-I am just as gullible as I was at five. Creator of that Mars hoax, you broke my heart.

Follower Love-Fest #12: Z

I love the mystery of Z. One letter is all you need, and it's just the right one when A-Y just won't do. Z is, as his (her? I really don't know.) picture will show, is a leather-clad warrior who is liable to take your ass down a peg or two if you so much as look at his Beanie Baby collection the wrong way.

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*This one will come up again in our next edition, too. El ohh el.

Anyway, I'm trying out this new thing where I'm a truly productive member of society. I get up early, eat wholesome breakfasts, get all my work done, am highly involved in extracurriculars--all that kind of stuff. Or, at least, that's the idea. We'll see how it works out.