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Message for you, Sir.


I currently live in a suite (essentially, a cluster of rooms) of four students on the first floor of one of the dorms on my campus. And two of my suitemates are some of my closest friends on campus— we’re almost always in each other’s rooms (read: they’re almost always in my room), and things get along swimmingly.

Not sure if I’ve ever told you about my other suitemate, but she and I have a bizarre past. Not to dwell on that, though, because that’s besides the point. She’s rarely around, and she is NEVER in any of our rooms, because OF COURSE that’s not her thing. Truth be told, I’ve not met anyone on campus who has anything but negative things to say about her. I had thought we would get along, because she’s a theater geek, and those are usually my People.

No such luck. 

But while my suitemates and I don’t always SEE Gerty the Theater Geek on a regular basis, we DO regularly hear Gerty and her equally odious Significant Other George, making loud noises.

To be more specific, Gerty and George are, at all hours of the day, gettin’ it on in Suite 12 of my dorm, and Gerty is One of Those Girls. The kind of girl that you WILL hear, making the Katy Perry “Firework” sounds, from their typical trysts at 4PM on Sundays to the usual wild Friday morning affairs.

It’s Saturday night. The time to be out, to be with friends. I assume, because Gerty and George are not the sort of people who care at all to be around people, they are around, but they usually are not. And as a nerd who has too much homework and had to leave a party early in order to finish it, I was just working in my room, when all of a sudden, I’m an unwilling audial participant to Sexy Time With Gerty and George. Most notably, Gerty is screaming. After ascertaining that she was, in fact, not crying, or yelling at George, I found myself in great need to do something, in order to politely announce that I was, in fact, within earshot of the two lovers, who by this time have started to sound like ducks in a panic.

So I turned on my children’s choir versions of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” and let the innocent tones of the world’s worst singers drown out the wild sex frenzy of the dying fowls. I feel only a little shame.

They have not stopped. Who has two thumbs and isn’t getting any work done?

With many yargs,


PS. I’ve distracted myself with PostSecret. Favorite of the week:

Haven’t Tumbled in Fo-Eveah!

So I’m in chapel (let’s be surprised I’m not paying attention).
Okay, so what’s new in the life of Miriam? Well, you know a lot of it. I’m working as part of a team to start a non Asbury sponsored (and therefore uncensored) magazine on campus. We’re pretty far off, it’s going to take a lot of work. We need to find people who are willing to advertise with us or perhaps we could find someone who would just be willing to donate money to us. We need $2,000 for the first issue. For real. So after we get our mock up together were going to have to go around to local business and ask them to advertise with us. Hopefully that won’t be that stressful. I’ve also realized that with my schedule the only nights I’m completely free are Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. Monday: magazine meeting; Tuesday: lab, then Small group; Wednesday: magazine meeting. Now I realize this is only three nights a week, but this is from me. The person who never has anything to do. I have to keep a strict calendar and jazz. Kelsey, I’ve often been early to the magazine meetings. Me! EARLY. Weird, I know.
I hope to see you sooner rather than later.

With a flask and a yarg,

Procrastination 2.0: Sophomore Year Edition


Okay, back to work.


Photos from outside my bedroom window. That is a doctor’s office scale.

Guys Above Me, if you threw that out your window, I will be so impressed.
Just like every year since you gave it to me, this roll of toilet paper goes on our tree. 
Miss you. Come back to me! 




This song is getting me through these last few weeks before break. This is what I think of, when I think of home. (But put you all in the video, instead of those randos.) It’s been on constant repeat since Thanksgiving. I miss homeeuuhhhhhh.

All my yargs,


Lilly drew a picture of Dexter.
This image represents all the feeling I’m currently having. 
I’m clearly the sexiest person you know.


Proper blog post time

So I’m busy. Really busy. So I’m writing this in chapel! My one hour of downtime ever Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
So let’s see, I have a test and a four page paper due on Wednesday. So I have the whole paper to research and write tonight (let’s be surprised). And study for Philosophy tomorrow.
But this has been boring so far.
I apologize.
In other news: Asbury had its first ever Homecoming dance Saturday night. The theme was throwback, and it actually turned out pretty cool! It was in the old gym at the new Providence school (the old Early Learning Village) and it was very nice. Freshmen were supposed to dress up like the 60’s, Juniors 80’s, Seniors 90’s, and… Sophomores 70’s. In our many, many years of friendship, I hope you know I LOVE the 70’s. They played an entire block of music that was JUST 70’s! It was beautiful. I wish every dance was like that, just 70’s. I knew every song that came on. And to my surprise, a lot of those Asbury people actually danced! Not well, but they danced nonetheless.
But I have something to admit.
Even though it was a lot of fun. And the people I went with we’re super fun. I felt a bit of loneliness.
I missed you, and Josh, and Matt, and Ashley, and well… everyone. It’s weird being at a dance without you all. There were times then I was alone, with no one to dance with, but I never had that with you all. We were never alone unless we wanted to be. I’m not saying I miss high school, because I CERTAINLY don’t. But I miss you guys. I miss us all being together and how even the most lame of the lame school events were somehow fun. I love you, and I love our friends. And I wish we could all be together again. All of us.
~several hours later~
The glass bowl I just put a ton of work into is ruined. It shrunk to half it’s original size and the texture of the glass is all messed up.
Monday’s suck.