Well, pretty good year...

As my second (and thankfully second-to-last) year at the University of Tampa draws to a close, I've decided to sit down and reflect a bit on the happenings--in most cases mishaps--of this school year.

Since I'm throughly tired of academia and all of its paraphernalia, I'll get it out of the way first. Earning a 3.0 first semester and probably NOT much higher this one, I'd have to say that in that respect, this was probably my least successful academic year. I don't think I've EVER gotten two C's in one year. Never. Not that I care. If there was any education I did obtain this year, it was that grades don't matter...well, they do, actually, to a point. But after making the big switch in December from Biochemistry to Writing, I realized the my likelihood of finding a job in about a year depends less on any numbers I can pull out of my ass--or a transcript as it were--and more on the words the come out of my mouth or appear on the page. That, and luck. But not grades. Not grades. So thank you, Dr. Hendrix, for instructing the most difficult Chemistry course I've ever taken, failing me on every assessment I had, and making me feel lucky to receive a C. Thanks for convincing me that science is not--at least at this moment--for me.

In other news, the fabulously ghetto (or maybe just ghetto fabulous) Boathouse was as dysfunctional as ever. On the boys side, it appears that the space next to the one I currently inhabit is permanently cursed. If you're an old UT friend, you'll probably remember that it was for all of last year inhabited by snooty white-trash fashionsenseless closeted bottom slut Joe Jocavino. First semester came bigoted right-wing, "I have an awesome body though I'm Mexican so my dick doesn't exist, and oh yeah--my face looks like a RAT'S", I will have ONE, eight-track mix CD of Green Day and Nickleback and play it the WHOLE semester Gustavo Zamora. This semester I had to endure another nightmare, this one prepubescent, pseudohipsterbutreallyjustanotherboringstuckupmotherfuckerfromassnyorctidontremember, I can talk in a fake funny voice all the time and it NEVER gets old, and listen to Jack Johnson's apparently soothing adult contemporary shuttle Cole Pierce. It just NEVER ceases to amaze me. It appears as though I won't have to meet ANOTHER loser, though, as Cole and my other roommate Scott, of "Scott and Meg have sex several times a day and I can now tell what position they're doing it in just by the rhythm with which Meg Moans" fame. Other highlights included Tennessee swimming hotties (but unfortunately idiots) Charlie and Johnny. There was a kid named Nick living in the front room for a while but I guess we scared him off, and Juan and Bill are back this year. I'm happy to report that both of them have calmed down in their old age and are probably two of the most pleasant guys on campus.
On the girls side, we actually have a(n almost) full house at year's end, a miracle considering only one and a half girls remained at the end of last year, the wonderful Stephanie, who's still probably my best friend even though we fight like a married couple, and hobbit Erica, whose departure in December actually saddened me. All of the other girls--the other Stephanie, Kim, Jess, Netty (who also disappeared in December), Mona Lisa, Kristi, Kika, and Quiche--were delightful. Oh, and the R.A. this year sucked AND liked to take up the bathroom for hours at a time and NOT use air freshener, but that's just icing on a rotten cake--no pun intended, since our refirgerator has been broken since DECEMBER. Florida winter won't keep my ice cubes from melting.

On the "love" front, well. Hmm. Not love but, um, the pursuit of love and the sex inbetween. September saw the hottest "bringing home from a club" incident I've ever had, while most of my sex life until second semester consisted of my hot, muscled, horse-hung cop/military friend in New Tampa. Second semester brought the chubby, clingy, got-in-my-pants-when-I-didn't-even-invite-him-into-my-room and pencil-thin-curved-dick freak from Stadium place, hot ass horse hung punk kid from Vaughn, and everyone's favorite confused freshman from Crescent place. FYzI (For y'all's information), physically-based crushed that appear less than two weeks after meeting someone are NOT O.K. Wouldn't you be scared if someone you found attractive and spent lots of time with told you that YOU were attractive and they wanted to get to know you better?

Friends, friends, friends. I WILL say that I've probably made/kept the most friends this year, and it saddens me to leave so many of them. Shy, the aforementioned Boat House girls, the drunk ass girls in Brevard, Lisette, Beccs and company, Minnestoa Erin and Morgan, Ricky, and most of the people in all of my classes--Shelley, Erin, Tina, Beth, Sabrina, Ashley, Matt, Katerina, Drea, Tiffany, Nissa, Yuly, Chad, Tracy, Dana, Manuella, Christian, Angelique, the other Tiffany, Zach, Emma, Lauren, Shantell, Neuza, Rena, Casey, Ashley, and EVERYONE else I forgot--you KNOW how bad I am with names. And also all of the writing department staff--perhaps the most non-sucky--oh hell, best, department at this school. Kudos.

Anyway, I think I've written enough. Now hopefully most of the people to whom I've given this link will follow it!

R