  I think the only comparison for life right now would be a Sex and the City episode. But that's only because of my gross lack of exposure popular culture, evidenced when Charlie and Matt and Jen start talking about movies and I'm left to mull over the state of my mashed potatoes or something. It's not sexual, that's not the point I'm getting across. It's just scattered episodes. Maybe I'll have to read Calvino to get that kind of feeling too. It's just...there's some sort of underlying drama that irritates me somehow and I don't know the answer to it. In the end, I'm reassured by the fact that I know that everything will be ok. It's not even a matter of doubt at all. I know that once I get home I'll be with the people I love most again--that goes for family and friends. Everyone. I think they're having a party downstairs in 14. I think, "Well, this is it. They've started getting cliquey too.
" I'm switching psych to introduction to social anthropology. I've already written this to Ellis (who hasn't bothered to manifest in his online form yet, quite an amazing feat), but...it's just a more intimate setting, a smaller class, a better professor. I exchanged my books. I'll visit Holworthy tomorrow to get the necessary forms. So it ends up that I have nothing on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays-Sundays, so it'll be an exercise in self-control.
I have classes back-to-back for five hours when I do. I almost fell asleep today. Class always seems unbearably long, but I tell myself that it's not unfair to the Harvard experience to criticize classes for being long. And I'm going to go. More later. 
