Greetings, friends!  Now that I have acquired wireless broadband, I can access the power of the Internet almost anywhere!  The broadband adapter is this black little gadget that I stick into the USB port and can use on any computer--I'll refer to this device from here on out as the Obelisk of the Internets.  The upside is that I don't need to get something I'm not going to use--like a phone line or cable--and pay all of those extra charges.  I've been out in Lewisburg (which I'm going to rename Yuppyshire) since Saturday, had a terrible moving experience (everything that could go wrong, in fact, did), and I've spent the past few days taking care of odds and ends, meeting with the professors who I'll be TAing for, and unpacking the last few things in the meantime.  The garret has fast become a quality establishment; all that's missing is the futon (the one thing that my parents ordered for this whole operation, most everything else has been on my hands).  I'm finally getting my sleep schedule back together again, so by tomorrow morning I should be able to resume my writing schedule.  While I was waiting for the one professor today, I plotted out most of a story in my pocket notebook.

The presence of academia makes me feel alive again.  There is a fire across my mind, synapses sparking brainwaves and stoking a fire of thought--it is a baptism in my mind.  A few weeks ago I was feeling mostly despondent.  With my books surrounding me again, with my typewriter again controlling a desk (the wonderful rolltop that I'm borrowing from the generous and benevolent readingirl), I'm starting to feel a little bit like myself again.  Tea and literature in the morning, work all the livelong day, distract myself from reality with intense and philosophical literary discussions...that's my life, and I think I forgot that somewhere in the past few months.  But I'm feeling all right.  Which is always good news.  Or so I've been told.

The downfall of the garret is that it's rather quiet unless I have iTunes or a movie on in the background to provide some sort of noise.  Listening to six hours of Batman:  The Animated Series makes me wonder how they can keep writing [essentially] the same plot, with the same stories, with the same tensions, and still keep it remotely interesting.  But aside from that pondering, there isn't much going on.  Already, I've taken up talking to myself, talking to a dragon puppet, and imagining how I would tell other people about my experiences--which to date have been a bunch of errands.  Exciting to the max.  Woot.

I'm also getting back into some bad habits, such as lining up tons of work for myself before the semester even begins.  When I spoke to Miss Arnold on the phone during the Mighty Fine Shindig o' Books in Gettysburg, she said that I overworked myself to the point of potential insanity.  I'm being serious when I ask this, but...is this a recurring habit of mine?  I never feel unduly stressed or overworked.  Maybe I just don't have any sanity at all.  Or maybe I'm just susceptible to feeling useful somewhere in the bowels of the Ivory Tower.

Yes, I'm a tool.  For more details, call your local hardware store.  Or me.  Calls are always appreciated.

I've also done a little bit of exploring on Market Street, too.  Of course, I thought of my girls because there's a place called the Celtic Exchange, a store that has Bleach posters in the window, a store that sells Japanese collectibles and the like, and all sorts of other neat stuff.  The only problem is that this is Yuppyshire, and one must therefore play a fierce game of dodge the yuppies who are some how ignorant of the fact that this is Pennsyltuckabama and that there are biker gangs herding along Market Street (aka PA-45).

But now that I have the Internet, I can employ it with Batman-like ferocity.  I can drive around in my Patmobile and use my Patcomputer to find information anywhere, anytime.  (I've checked ZIP codes--allegedly, I should even have coverage out in the boonies where chiara_suzuka lives).  I fear that I may have given Lappy too much power with this unbridled access to the Internet; I hope that she doesn't abuse it.  The world will never again be the same.  And sure enough--it'll make staying in touch much easier, and I won't have to worry about getting on and off within five minutes so that my parents or sister can use the computer.  Ah, the joys of freedom!