The Coffeehouse

Before I start off with the boring, stuff...

I made sushi today at home! (You should be ohh-ing and ahh-ing at the picture below.)

It was a dreary, rainy day and I have no classes on Wednesdays, so I decided to do what I've been meaning to do for the past 4 months (that's how long all the sushi-making supplies have been waiting too). I've recruited my brother and mother as a sushi-eaters, failed with my sister, and before I even tried, my dad very politely stated that even if sushi was the last food on Earth and he was about to starve to death, he wouldn't eat it.

Fine. More for me!

It's a week into classes and I can't say that any of my courses are that interesting, just interesting professors. I have one for my Environmental Disasters class who paused in the middle of his talk and said "Sometimes my thoughts wander off, I have A.D.D.", then continued on again. And my French professor gets really excited when we pronounce words right ("Formidable!", "Bravo!").

Did I ever mention I absolutely, positively hate frosh (freshmen, first-years, those little idiotic midgets walking around campus)? They are annoying, they're too giddy, too cheerful, too eager, and they take up too much space. There is honestly no room in the hallways to walk, it's as if they can't wait for us 4th years to leave in peace and would much rather squeeze us out of the school at the beginning of the year than endure 6 months. Well here's some news for you punks, I'm staying my full 6 months, so if you see me in the hallways, either make way for Queenie, or RUN. You've been warned.

My sister is actually a frosh this year, I shall tolerate her, she's a special frosh. Plus, she goes to a different university, so I don't really gotta deal with her froshiness.

I got an email from an Italian friend I met in Palestine. It's in Italian.

For some reason, I feel it might be a chain letter, but then there is a part of me that feels like it is some kinda update on her life?