In Which I Am Alive

My apartment tends to exist in a constant state of messiness. Every time I try to figure out why the domicile can't stay out of pig-sty zone for more than a day at a time, I can only come up with one answer. It's not "my" apartment after all. It's "ours". There are, in fact, six of us currently living in my tiny little flat. Six college-aged girls: three in school, two with boyfriends, all with jobs. We're all far too busy to clean up anyone's messes but our own. And whenever anything is messy, it is definitely  anyone's mess but my own. Crumbs all over the counter? Well, I'm always careful when I eat, so they couldn't possibly be mine. Let the perpetrator wipe them up Dishes in the sink? Why can't those silly roommates of mine take the time to wash their cereal bowls? Trash needs to be taken out? I can't believe  they'd let it overflow like that! Notice a pattern? Nothing is ever, ever  my fault. And I have a f

I had never seen Casablanca before. And well, to say I'd heard it was good would be grossly understating the matter. More like, oh, one of the greatest movies ever made? So when I heard it was playing on campus today, I went. Even though I had important things to do. Even though I couldn't find anyone to go with me. And...I'm still not sure what to say about it. I was enthralled the whole time. I fell in love with Rick. The ending was immensely satisfying.  But I'll be honest, Ilsa really, really bothered me. "Do the thinking for both of us, Rick!" Really? Really though? I think the part that really bugged me about Ilsa was how much I related to her (minus the whole marital infidelity thing). I know what it's like to get so lost in your emotions that you can't think straight. To want to stop trying to figure things out and just collapse into tears while others fix your problems for you. And I've definitely been guilty of that on multiple occasi

To the Ants I Killed Yesterday, I was only doing my job. You have to understand that up front. I have to keep that bathroom clean for the students who use it, and a small colony of insects living underneath the urinals is not traditionally the sign of a hygienic bathroom. I'll admit, I'm still not sure why it was so important I got rid of you. Your kind doesn't traditionally carry diseases, and none of you were stealing any food or really, doing anyone any harm as far as I could see. You're all black ants, so probably not the biting type. But, like the dirt in the corners and the soap scum on the counters, you look dirty, and are unwelcome in a modern, clean restroom. And so I sprayed your corner with poison. Did it hurt? Did you scream? Did you die instantly or did you suffer and struggle first? Did some of you run frantically, looking for loved ones, hoping they'd survived? Do ants love? Do they have families? Were the stragglers all alone and desolate, ha