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It is perhaps with a degree of cautious optimism that I say I am beginning to dig the vibe of this place. Sure, the utter lack of movie venues and other cultural bastions (where are all the museums for all the boring, stuffy people?!) make me want to cough up chunks of my pancreas, but there's definitely a lot to like, as well. The attitude everyone has is mostly carefree, which isn't exclusive to just the student body; the professors and teaching assistants are the same way. If you try, you'll get a rewarding experience. If not, whatever. Nobody is much hostile to anyone else, and everyone is very chummy. Even this stumbling drunkard who vomited all over the Theta house and destroyed parts of their fence was treated very well, which was quite the show.

The other cool thing about this place is how self-centered it encourages you to be, but perhaps that's just my ornery self rationalizing my disgust for human beings. Staying in your room, listening to death metal, and just chilling isn't looked down upon. Encouraged, even. Sure, you might feel a little bad for not indulging in the party scene because it's so in-your-face, but for the most part, people won't make you feel bad for not wanting to party. Furthermore, as all the males seem to be cut from the granite that built the columns of Mount Olympus, going to the gym is an absolute necessity. Even if you're extremely secure and don't mind showing off your obnoxiously large gut to random passerby, watching a gaggle of perfectly tan and shapely girls being accompanied by guys with builds like Abercrombie models still compels you to work out. And damn, does it feel good to exercise, as I covered in the previous entry.

Still, a handful of complaints continue to nibble at my shins like a starved puppy dog. A lot of the people seem to be cut from the same cloth, to the point where I honestly cannot distinguish one person from another. Girls are all so buxom and beautiful that I have trouble telling them apart. Guys hoot and holler about their infeasibly gigantic muscles to the point where I just shut off my brain and just guess people's names. Also, being the antisocial caveman recluse I am, eating alone in the dining commons makes me feel incredibly crappy and exposed for some inexplicable reason, but that could just be the food tearing a hole in my gut. Eating well at Santa Barbara is a notion founded in myth and fairy tales. If you want to eat well, prepare to pay an arm and a leg at one of the off-campus places. Otherwise, make due with the dumpster dinner they provide you. By God, the food here has wreaked havoc on my digestive system.

To conclude, I definitely feel more at home here. I suppose I was right (as per usual!). I just needed the quarter to start. The avalanche of work and extremely interesting classes has abated my miseries, at least for now. I'm sure once midterms and papers start rolling in, I'll want to throw myself off Storke Tower like I did when I first got here.

PS. I can't wait to go home just because the postal system here is like living in the 18th century.