Very busy. Very, very busy. But still alive, and joyfully so. Rejoice!
Last Friday Neighbor C from the summer visited for the day. She lives in New Jersey so she took the train up and we hung out and ate at Panera and generally had a great time. She also bought a pair of Princeton pants, and we put together a care package to send to Intern T, who is still down there sweltering for the year.
Waiting to pick her up in the morning at the train station, I brought my notebook and my iPod and put my earbuds in and listened to Thomas Newman's (who is, I am convinced, a genius) Angels in America theme on repeat. It was rainy and it was the perfect temperature and it was a beautiful, introspective moment. I almost didn't want Neighbor C to arrive; it was so peaceful.
Five classes + magazine + salsa (yes, Roommate J and I decided to learn how to Salsa Dance. We are automatically that much cooler now) = tired me. But I swear if anything amazingly interesting happens, you'll be the first (or...fifth) to know.

My first tour of the year came along, and I found myself ushering thirty communists around campus in a tour that went thirty minutes over time and encompassed 20% more campus than usual. Before I go on I should point out that by communists I mean that they, apparently, live in a commune, not that they are big-C Communists.
Anyway, each week the tour guides get sent an e-mail with information about any large groups that will be coming. So we can, you know, complain to our roommates about having to show campus to seventeen Swedish tourists who don't care about distribution requirements and want to know about architecture. That kind of thing.
Anyway, I found out that "[man's name] and friends" were scheduled for our slot. This was strange already. Usually the groups have names like "Vlad's Family," or "Grades Grades Grades High School" or "Southwestern Baptist Church." Who was this [man's name] and why were 29 of his closest friends coming to campus with him?
I had already decided that I would volunteer to give the tour today. The weather was nice and the week before another of the tour guides in my slot had volunteered, letting the rest of us who were too bloated or sleep deprived or harassed take a week off. Well, I was feeling pretty good, I was wearing a nice blue scarf my mother bought me and life was looking up. So I said to the others, "I'll take the thirty old people. You can go home." They thanked me and left.
Then the group arrived, slow-moving and fifteen minutes late. I introduced myself and we set out. On our way to my first stopping point, I asked the man walking in the front what the occasion was.
"Well," he said, "we're from a camp."
My thought went something like this: ".....?"
"A community of adults," inserted his friend, and named a town in New Jersey I was unfamiliar with.
That didn't matter, though, because at this point I was taking stock of their clothes. Not hippies, I concluded, or at least not traditional ones. Maybe these were centrist hippies. Still. They lived in an "adult community." Presumably they weren't all engaged in a massive orgy or wife-swap 24/7. The idea of a commune made much more sense.
"Most of us were teachers," said the first man. Then they demanded to see the science buildings.
An hour and a half later I had been photographed in a group shot with them, asked more questions than I usually get per semester, and told that I was going places with my writing. I decided that I need to give tours to communists in their sixties more often.
Or maybe not. I only had ten minutes for lunch before my French class, so I said goodbye after dropping them at the museum (their next tour) and rushed off.
Someone else better take the big tour next week. I did my bit.

Yesterday Not-From-Canada-Girl and I went and saw Equus. It was awesome. The acting was fantastic, the set was phenomenal, the horses were convincing, the writing was great, and, yes, it must be said, Daniel Radcliffe was naked. Very naked.
Spending time with Flatmate S this summer gave me a new appreciation for set design. This one was perfect, and looked effortless, but must have taken a lot of time to construct. It felt like a mix between a temple and the Roman senate. The lighting was stark. Oh my goodness it was so good.

Huh. This is an interesting development.

You are a Social Liberal (68% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (13% permissive) You are best described as a: Socialist Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also : The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

I just got back from a magazine meeting with my co-editor-in-chief and wow. I feel a little responsible. That is to say I feel like I have responsibilities, not that I'm responsible for some atrocity or something. :)
Publishing at Damn-Big-Midwestern-University High School was hectic because my associates never did anything on time. Here it's going to be hectic because the two of us have decided to bring out not two but three publications a year. We've also decided to have staff get-togethers every once and a while. This, I'm proud to say, was my idea.
Last year, I was really excited to start work on this magazine and meet people with similar interests in what fiction should accomplish in the world. Sadly, the then-editors-in-chief didn't have that kind of thing in mind. All our interactions took place via e-mail. Freshman this year who want to make friends with me can, hopefully.
Dinner and chatting tomorrow with HighSchoolClassmate and then on Saturday it's off to NYC to see Equus!

Saturday night Roommate J and I caught a free showing of Burn After Reading.
Three Things:
1) Brad Pitt. Some may have found him annoying. Annoying was Troy. Here, he was adorable.
2)George Clooney. Oh God. I don't care what the New Yorker said. This man can do no wrong.
3) John Malkovich. Of course Osborn Cox went to Princeton. Of course, of course, of course!
3a) And, since I can hear my mother in my head saying, "You just listed three men," Tilda Swinton! Frances McDormand. I don't know what Christopher Hitchens was smoking when he said women aren't funny.

Now that I've attended all of my five (!) fall classes, I'm able to give those oh-so witty encapsulations I'm apparently addicted to.
French--American Professor with a perfect accent. Native speakers are the other students. Lots of film vocab. Très intimidating, but probably pure awesome at the core.
English #1--We started by reading Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, which I had already read, but which still scares me. Think it's hard going to bed after reading it? Try walking back from the library in the dark.
English #2--OHMYGODYESILOVETHISCLASS. Taught by Master Awesome, this class promises to have the most quotes, notes, and memorable moments by the end of the semester.
Gender Studies--This class worries me. I'm worried that I'll fall so in love with it that I'll be tempted to minor in it.
Religion--Prof. Bagel, you're awesome. Little did I know that when I saw you as an articulate and *gasp* interesting talking head in a high school history documentary that I'd some day be taking your class. Looks as awesome as you. Just lighten up on the reading, would you. I've got Daniel Deronda to finish.

While typing this, Florida Flatmate H called. We had an awesome chat. I knew that I missed my friends from this summer, but I didn't realize how much until we had talked for a bit.

On Sunday we welcomed the new freshmen, I met up with I'm-Not-From-Canada-Girl to purchase Equus tickets, and then Roommate J, Russian(Ex)Roommate, and I went on a nighttime walk.
Monday found Downstairs Chatterer, Roommate J, CC, Russian(Ex)Roommate, and I rushing hither and thither buying books and visiting Soccer(Ex)Roommate and piking up parcels. Roommate J and I attempted to watch the dance troupes' showcase for the freshman, but they ran out of seats so instead we went back to the dorm and philosophized and painted our nails.
Today began with four hours of lecture-style updates from the tour guide troupe and then two hours of reading Daniel Deronda in the best reading nook ever.
Still on the horizon for tonight: dinner with Soccer(Ex)Roommate, and the arrival of HaHa.

On the last night of the weirdest summer of my life I would like to say, "STRINGER BELL IS DEAD."
That goes out to you, Dad. Tonight was Inspector Lynley, and pizza night. Could it get any better?

Really. I'll be driving back east for a Sunday morning arrival in my dorm starting tomorrow morning. Tomorrow's highlights include a visit to Uncle Hoagie-Free-Zone's house, which I have not yet seen but greatly anticipate, and the beginnings of my re-read of Daniel Deronda for Master Awesome's class.

...and it's September.
I'm not quite sure how that happened. One minute I was working in Florida, trying not to punch the new Lit Intern in the head and getting all worked up about having to leave all my new friends. Next minute I was at The Cabin with the Aged Ps, reading Dorothy Dunnett and playing Clue (its was Colonel Mustard four times out of five. What the hell?). Next I was home with two glorious weeks ahead of me.
I met up with HarvardGirl and Schinkel and Trebor and canoed. I accidentally (probably subconsciously on purpose for years of unrequited crushing) pitched Trebor in the lake when I slipped climbing out. We spent hours taking silly photos and laughing and playing Apples to Apples and watching the DNC (yes, yes, YES!) and lying with our heads on each other's stomachs and laughing in order: "Ha." "Ha ha." "Ha ha ha." "Ha ha ha ha." Etc.
Now it's September and I have four days until I go back to Princeton.
And so, without further ado, I present Things I Have Learned This Summer.

Things I Have Learned This Summer, Florida Edition
1) When play writing, DO NOT use direct address.
2) When play writing, DO NOT speak in cliches.
3) When play writing, DO NOT reveal everything about the characters at once. Allow for some mystery.
4) When play writing, DO NOT rush the ending.
5) When play writing, DO NOT write about dysfunctional families that aren't.
6) DO NOT shove the lettuce to the back of the drawer.
7) DO NOT wash your new towel with your black shirts, even if it saves money.
8) When play writing, DO open strong to hook the audience.
9) When play writing, the audience should be able to understand all that has led up to the ending, in hindsight.
10) DO chaperone couch cuddling.
11) DO yell "Go Home!" when about to be mugged. (NB This did not happen to me, but it did work, and Flatmate M remains un-mugged).
12) When play writing, DO say something old in a new way.
13) When play writing, DO say something new.
14) DO watch the Olympics.
15) DO go and watch Brideshead Revisited with people unfamiliar to the story. When they say they want to read the book, you'll feel virtuous.
16) DO go to goth parties, toga parties, game nights, goodbye parties, opening night extravaganzas, tiki bars, and evenings at the Ritz. It doesn't matter if you don't drink. If your friends are there, you'll have fun.
17) DO volunteer for tough jobs.
18) DO make friends with the photocopier, even if it turns out to be a double crossing hussy.
19) DO stay in touch with people and send them mail and ask after them.
20) DO NOT live in Florida. It's too hot.