What way is that you ask? What exactly have I been doing ever since Finals ended last tuesday?

I can sum it all up in one word: relaxing. I can also sum it up in three words: relaxing and recuperating.

All things considered, this semester was easy compared to some I remember from college, or even last semester. Hell, last semester was a gauntlet, with that one statistics class looming like the Apocalypse--only to be narrowly avoided by quick thinking.

But last semester? Sure it was alot of work, sure it took up all my time to do this or that...and was it hard? At times, yes. But was it difficult? No. I got the same thing this semester as I did last semester, but for this one..it almost seems like a granted token. Not that I'm taking it for granted, I'm happy.

Yeah. I puked it out with a grin. Happy.

So academic reflections aside, just what the fuck have I been doing?

Well...

Last week I alternated between running another set of monkeys and recovering from the flu. The flu took up alot of my time. Trust me: this flu was a son of a bitch. It started with that cartload of financial horseshit, stayed through finals, and is now finally in near full remission. Mostly it was only a pain in the ass whenever I decided to move. That made lab work alot harder than it usually is, but I hacked, and coughed, and got through it.

Over the weekend I recovered some. But how could I deny the siren song of a party on Saturday, the 15th? And so still kinda sick with the occasional hacking reserved for lepers and old dudes in movies, I set out for a house not too far from where my lab is. I'd been by here before, during that night where Xtian's friend had her 21st b-day, the lot of us got mildly snokered on booze, and Jess flirted with smooth black bouncer guy and got him to lift her above his head--horizontally.

So I knew the area well. I even knew the 7-11 like mini-mart nearby. I first checked out where the house was, saw I was 15 minutes early (which is really 45 minutes early), headed to the mart, got an energy drink, went back to the house and sucked at the thing elegantly.

I waved into the door, smiled at David's wife and made the usual small talk. David and I got to talking during the first semester and having lunch around this last one. He's a genuinely great guy, with a profound interest in how motor function seems to help us cognitively process stuff. Very philosophically and scientifically oriented, which might explain why we get along well.

After waving hello to Dan and Katie, giving my usual spiel and smiling, David and I sat down to yak about a wide variety of stuff. We'd already talked about a few things a couple days ago when I met him outside of the psych building. Mostly it'd been questions for me about, say, why dogs tilt their head to the side when you speak to them? Or if there might be some movement patterns that people universally do to help them think? I believe we talked about that a little more, but then we got to talking about his plans to buy a house with his wife. I'd never even considered real-estate as an option, so I was fascinated and asked about it. Apparently he'd gotten a real-estate agent license when he was a para-legal, dealing with that sorta work.

Good bit of knowledge to keep in mind, I figured.

After that the crowd started to filter in. The showcase was Bryan, of course, who brought his own home-grown beer bong for all to partake. His girlfriend arrived with him too. I didn't get to talk to her much that night, but later on I got to know her some; very smart, sweet, and she likes Carnivale so I like her.

I'm not gonna try to reconstruct the whole night since I'll bore the crap outta you. Here are a few recurring scenes:

*The backyard, with Bryan or Dan loading up the beer bong to take a hit--or give one to one of the women there. Bryan was the king of that plastic tube, taking doubles like it was nothing. He tried to egg me on a few times to take a hit, but I was committed to staying sober that night. I didn't want to make my recovering ass sick again because of beer. That and I'm a damn snob, I admit it: I drink ale, not beer.

*The underground dance party basement room. I had many the coversation in the belly of that beast. I remember speaking to a woman who'd just gotten a master's degree in interior design. She was interested in the dynamics of sacred space, how to invoke that in modern architecture. She was also fascinated by labyrinths and some recent studies looking at their therapeutic effect. I was quite fascinated. I didn't realize interior design had therapeutic research going on, but apparently it's rather new. I picked her brain on that, she picked mine about stuff I can't remember, and it was cool.

Later on, I got into a conversation with David, his wife, and the sacred space woman about photography and a few other topics I can't remember. Here I was, an amateur with no formal training, trying to explain what the sub-genre of conceptual photography was. The sacred spaces woman had mentioned she done photography and taken some classes in the past, so I was wondering if I sounded like a nittering jackass. She just sorta nodded from what I could tell in my peripheral vision. David seemed spellbound when I was describing The Oracle. It's still one of my favorite pieces.

Later on into the night, I mostly stuck to sitting on the couches at one end or the other, watching pretty drunk acquaintances like Xtian and Katie dancing like mad people. There was swinging upon basement polls, hee-haw stomping to that techno country song every since person must have heard by now...and general silliness.

I never dance when I'm sober. I refuse. My body and I are on a strictly independent contracter agreement: I have a job to do, it does the work, we deal.

C-Line came over during one of the later times and sat next to me. We talked for awhile while her husband danced and looked all giddy and happy. They're both moving out to Dartmunth during the summer, since her advisor is heading for greener pastures and she's going for the ride. It's too bad I didn't get to know her and her husband better, I said at some point. She mentioned she'd be periodically coming back to Madison for this or that project. That was cool. It's a shame to lose contact with decent people. And for awhile we just sat there and listened to the music, me in my own world, and her in whichever she chose. I think I left the party shortly afterward.

*The living room. I more walked than talked in here. Most of these people I didn't know well. There was the chick that bears and absolutely uncanny resemblance to Miss E/Erin, who spent most of the night on a couch talking to a girl I didn't know or these guys who looked like wank mobiles with eyes.

For a brief time, Megan and her friend Rich came by to get their groove on. These were the two I spent time with last weekend, wandering around while listening to Megan eagerly divulge her kinda sorta date with a fetching lesbian.

But she was gone pretty quick, and Rich is either really shy or can't stand my ass. Either way, I just ended up moving through the place more than anything.

*So finally, by the end of the night, I walked out into the night, hacked some more, headed home, and did boring but welcome things like sleep.

I love this 'going on for bloody ever' entries that I occasionally write. I'm gonna tack on a second entry to continue on with Bryan's b-day party at German House of Booze.

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