Like every other day, I came back to my room after my Japanese class. As I was finishing my lunch, I thought godzilla had gone to New York to attack Rob's room. I specifically heard roars and bangs. It was the second time I've heard such an "attack" at Rob's room. Like the previous time, Rob guided godzilla, "Not here, over here." It's humorous that Rob would guide godzilla to a wall where he is "allowed" to punch. After all, no one wants to pay for any damages made on campus property.
At Rob and my campus, there are different types of dorm rooms: corridor-style, suites, etc. Like myself, Rob lives in a suite with 5 other people. In a suite, there are 3 bedrooms (2 roommates each), a living room, a bathroom, and sometimes, a balcony.
Living life as a foreign exchange student in Japan is so peaceful. I spend my days organizing my hotmail account, deleting emails. I spend every morning and every night reading the New York Times, BBC News, CNN, Yahoo Odd News and Entertainment, and the blogs of my close friends. I've deactivated every account I have, including Facebook, Xanga, photo-hosting websites, etc. I've learned to stop using AIM instant messenger completely, making no time to procrastinate and check friends' profiles or away messages. At least, now, when I procrastinate, I'm learning from the news, mostly about Bush's stupidity.
I spend my days writing emails to Rob while listening to music. I spend my days wondering if I should make french toast or noodles for lunch. Everyday, I wonder if I should speed pass the bicycle in front of me or if I should follow the slow poke. I wonder which supermarket to go to today. I ponder about what to get Rob for the next occasion. I make my everyday decisions on the utmost ordinary lifestyle. At most, I'd debate if I want to make coconut milk with tapioca (an Asian dessert) for my first time. Or, I'd debate if I want to finally learn how to make a pumpkin pie or cheesecake from Hatim.
As a roommate, you are expected to act as a mediator or a consultant. As a suitemate, Rob has to listen to any gossips that enters the room. For example, I would hear his suitemates entering the room asking about health problems, gossiping about the cheating roommate, or bitching about their unbelievable girlfriends. Every month or so, I would see his friend, Tom, popping out on the screen. Other times, I would see Rob being choked by his roommate. It's funny.
Life is good. While godzilla bitches to Rob about his girlfriend, I had just finished my delicious mapo tofu. Rob muted his microphone; after all, I wouldn't want my peace to be disturbed by godzilla's roars either. I was in front of the computer while Rob listens patiently. I can be sympathetic about godzilla's problems, but I couldn't help but laugh in the joy of my simplistic day. I was struggling with the kiwis I bought from the 99 cents store. (Rob taught me a new way to eat it, by sucking it out.) It cannot be helped but fall onto my emptied dish of mapo tofu. While Rob was still facing godzilla, I picked the kiwi back up, wiped it with my juicy fingers, and put it back into my mouth. My facial expressions changed 7 times within 3 seconds. I shrieked from its sourness and its odd taste it picked up from the dish.
Afterwards, I washed my dishes, and debated if I wanted to take a shower on this wintery day to gain warmth. Now, I am sitting here, sipping tea, wondering if I want to write my paper on a Friday afternoon, surf the web for more news, or change the horrible music that I got from Rob on my itunes.
In class, yesterday, I had explained how dormitory life represents college life in American culture. I've had my share, and I want nothing to do with it anymore. I wouldn't change a thing in my current lifestyle. At most, the girls here would talk about the x-number of dates Laila has gone on. No drama, no tears, no cat fights, maybe gossips.
When I return to New York, I just want to finish my last year as a not-a-care-in-the-world (or in this case, on-the-campus) senior. I don't care if someone commits suicide again; I don't care if someone shoots themselves again; I don't care if some student hit another student with a car again. As long as it isn't anyone I know, I don't want to care.
I just want to spend my days wondering if Rob and I want to eat on campus or off campus.
