In Noah's Ark...

Hurrah! Midterms are finally over. At least for three out of the four subjects. This is the most unprepared exam I have ever been to since Additional Math in Secondary four. I had to strain for crap to write about since I only studied like two days for three papers. I stared at terminologies I've never seen before and tried to make up something relevant for it. And it wasn't essay style, so I couldn't possibly bullshit my way through. Like "In Johnson's book, would piaget or vygotsky be most interested in the sleeper's curve?" Train of thought: who is johnson? He wrote a book? Ohhhh...that's the red one I have not opened. What's a sleeper's curve? Who cares what piaget or vygotsky thought about it? Ok einee minee maniee moe...

Right. So its over. I'm on a pass fail basis. I gave up trying to get straight As to prove a point. Now I'm sick, sleepy and freezing.

Well I only got myself to blame don't I. But at the end of my exchange, I will remember the awesome church retreat I went to, and J's frat party instead of how many hours I studied right?

Church retreat was such an experience. Being woken up at 1:30am and asked to go up to the attic which used to be an operating theatre and mortury (no seriously, this isn't just an urban legend, my church use to be an old hospital) with 20 other girls while random seniors dressed in black ran out at us freaked the shit out of us. So I had to hold my pee in while i slept because i was too scared to use the bathroom. And there was something about hearing Korean songs at 6am and thinking it was a ghost when it was just the Korean praise and wordship team.

Besides that and how the basement flooded because of the storm, oh and scrubbing sticky rice off a spoon with my fingernails, church camp was renewed my perspective in life. I know the whole spiritual high thing about church camps...this wasn't so much of a spiritual high but a drawing closer and a reordering of priorities in life.

To add to my schizo life, I went to Jonas's frat party after camp ended at 1am. His was the frat house that Donald Trump use to live in and rumor have it that each alumni have to pledge 1% of their income to their house. Imagine how much that would be for Trump? Stepping in just transported us to another era altogether. Lited by candles, the house was decorated with dark wood, Edwardian style furniture and a moose head. About two dozen bodies mingled effortlessly, dressed in fancy cocktail dresses and casual suits, they jived tango/salsa/lindy hop style to a three piece jazz band brought in specially for the party. This felt like being in the movie "Ray" or in a cluedo playset. I half expected butlers and french maids to get our coats. As Stel said, "this is my dream birthday party."