Kristen Shull

So it's 2:30 in the morning and I'm eating beef ramen on my floor, contemplating my class in seven and a half hours.

Yo ho, yo ho, a college life for me.

I should start updating this thing more regularly. The less frequently I update a blog, the more I feel the need to list the major events that have occurred between now and when I last updated, completely void of any commentary or personal imput.

I also feel a little depressed because I'm unable to say anything original due to these bizarre coincidences: I, like Carrie Coffin, am going to Malawi winter term. I, like Abigail Suster, am in Major American Novels with Professor Marki (although my opinions regarding his performance are slightly different...). I, like Andrea Willingham, am also freaking out about finals. Whoops! Everyone takes those.

That last part's a half-truth. I only have two finals (maybe one) this semester, because for Film and Drawing, one's a final project and the other's a studio critique.
Still, the final for Major American Novels is 25% of our grade and boy, if B+ Shull could just go the extra mile, that'd be terrific.

Last Friday, I went to the basketball game because my friend is the waterboy. His girlfriend and our mutual friend took this opportunity to indulge in arts and crafts, by making special basketball t-shirts dedicated to Jack Butterworth, the waterboy.


My shirt says "How much is your BUTTER WORTH?" and we even made a poster board sign that said the same thing.
He liked it very much and I'm sure some members of the basketball team, that were actually pulling their weight and playing the game, were a little jealous.
Still, they won by a crazy amount.

Following that, I went to a rave at fox hall with free food and glow sticks and techno music. Then it was off to the theater for an improv show which I loved. God, so much to do!

This Saturday, I went to Joe's rugby game. It was awesome. They won 53-7.
From left to right, Joe catching the ball and looking epic, a desperate ball grapple, and a scrum featuring a guy that looks creepily like Thor:



And here's me with some dog and J-Butters.



Saturday night was the Acafool show. I don't know who Acafool is, other than he's some quasi-famous rap artist that's from Tampa and I could see him from my balcony in Omega. I wasn't that impressed with the show, and judging from a bird's-eye-view of the crowd, Eckerd wasn't either. I made a conscious attempt to avoid coming down from my perch because Eckerd had carted out truckloads of food to eat when I wasn't hungry.

I'm looking forward to a number of things:
1. The Bosstones show December 27 in Boston
2. Going to Boston and eating quesadillas at Anna's Taqueria
3. Seeing my family for Christmas
4. Getting a new phone tomorrow
5. Going to Malawi January!

The sad nature of my life is this:
At the meeting last Thursday regarding my trip to Africa, we discused a lot of things that would make a normal girl uncomfortable, uneasy, or disturbed. The fact that I'll be living in a place with no running water or electricity. The fact that I'll have to walk a quarter of a mile for fresh water to bathe in. The fact that some of the orphans I'll be working with will be infected with HIV. The fact that I need to get more immunizations and take malaria pills lest I catch a fatal disease from a mosquito.
And yet the thing that disturbed me the most was when I skimmed through the packing list to find this sentence:
"Girls MUST wear skirts down to their ankles at all times!"

I can't picture myself in a skirt. At all. To detail how I feel about the situation, I've drawn this picture:

The proportion of how stupid this drawing is happens to be the exact proportion of how stupid I will look in a skirt. Oh geez...

On a final note, I'd like to say that of all the ramen flavors, I think beef is the saltiest.