Life as a Resident Assistant...

....now means I have no life at all.


That's right.

I'm back. Sorry it took me so long guys, but working two jobs this summer took a lot of out of me (I think it was because of all the emotional situations) and I really wasn't in the mood to come home and recap my sucky life via blogging. No offense.

Anyway, there haven't really been to many things going on to do an extensive update, but I WILL say that Boyfriend and I are still together, I'm back at school now (2 weeks early) and as the students come filing in so will more stories. After all, this is called "The Sophomore Chronicles". It's kind of based around school.

But picking back up on the title....yep, I'm a Resident Assistant. Free room and board, a monthly stipend and a shit load of stress. I get to clean up after folks who are experiencing all the wonderful aspects of living away from Mommy and Daddy, scold those who break Housing policies, become a social leper in my current (small) circle of friends because I'm now the enforcer, and pretty much hate life in general. I know I sound depressing, but that's because the situation is depressing. And the only reason I'm doing it is because I'm dead broke and saving $8000 on student loans this year seemed like a grand idea.

My staff (the people who are RAs with me) are pretty cool (so far) but I have a feeling that as time goes on the drama will definitely rear its ugly head. It always does. Which is good for you. Because then you'll have something entertaining to read while you're at work.

I played some volleyball today with my staff just to show that I was part of the "team" and it was actually pretty fun. Huh. I'm definitely NOT the sports type at all, but I was able to hit the ball a couple of times. And I got to bat my eyelashes at some of my cute coworkers.

One thing that is going to be interesting to blog about is my female coworkers and their obsession with weight. Going to breakfast, lunch or anything that even remotely has to do with the digestive system is great--its like watching the Discovery Channel. They are COMPLETELY scared of a pound or two, which in my humble opinion, would do them good. They always stare at me when I eat, which is an odd combination of amusing and insulting. Thank God Boyfriend prefers a little meat on me or else I'd probably join the ranks of the bulimic.

Alright, no point in wasting a good post rattling on about what I'll be posting about in the future, I just wanted to stop in and let everyone know I'm not dead. Or in jail.


Till next time...