boondocks

So I've been living in the ghetto and boondocks for these past week. I haven't had time to check Emory Announcements at all. Isn't it funny that a university organizes it's events in a conference on the internet? It's like people who are led by strings or puppets' heads that jerk whenever someone pulls the puppet. They don't really have anything to do with the conference for Emory College. it's just the fact the everything is so organized and so tech that makes me feel like that we live in a very regulated life. Like the way the events update themselves on the conference--the dates match up to the present.
Three things about me:
1. I find lying on the sofa in the living room facing the balcony very luxurious, I can just extend my neck, look up to the sky and it amazes me how wide and infinite the horizon of the atmosphere is.
2. I hate it when I read an interesting book and sex comes into sight. I can't really understand why promiscuity not only plays in romance novels, but almost 65% of non-fiction, science-fiction, comedy and so many young adults-like Twilight. I want everything to go back to the platonic years.
3. I have an dual personality, I think

I definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
I wonder if it's because I tilted, or that I rarely use a pillow for support. Maybe it's that I should have let my alarm clock to zap away my suitemate's patience and not wake up an hour earlier than usual. So d-ling, d-ling it went, and oh heck I think my brain felt so disturbed as though that an rooster was singing inside my head.
As I finally retained my consciousness after 5 minutes, another 5 minutes, from 7:45-8:20-I got up and slipped into shoes.
If you know me, then you know that it takes me less than 10 minutes to get ready. Always. The routine goes, up, toothpaste on brush, patting on my cheeks wtih water and I'm all good. I may still have wrinkles on my face, but I'm out of the door, so that's cool.
it was also a bad hair day, instead of lustrous, shining streads, I have, much to the disgust of myself, yellow-brownish grass, dry as the harvest crops.
Then, I bought sushi, one that is a combination of 3 kinds. One type contains very skeptical spicy raw fish parts, colored dark red-You can tell it's uncooked by the color, it's as though that there's still blood. And my stomach has been growling since, so I am going to blame it on the sushi pack flavored with soy sauce.