on 10 fantastical projects for the upcoming warm months in the middle of the calendar year.

  1. Get a better-paying job. Right now I do menial labor in the food service industry.
  2. Go to Portland for the excuse to visit my old roommate.
  3. Do classes for my major/work in Adlab (BYU’s student-run ad agency).
  4. Fourth thing.
  5. Go to San Francisco whenever Google decides to get back to me on Project Stop Pronouncing It Like Glasses Because That’s Not The Brand Name People Get It Right.
  6. Start a Let’s Play series for my little baby siblings who live 1300 miles away… *sniffles*
  7. Convert Transcending Pixels (my old casual game review blog) into a webcomic.
  8. *starts crying*
  9. *more crying*
  10. Go visit my little siblings and family before the semester starts again.

on life in the plushest part of campus.

Devon the penguin in my dorm

Seriously. My suite is extraordinarily plush. You can tell it is because it’s called a “suite.” I would rather call it a dorm, because that’s what’s in my vocabulary from my economic status, but the university calls it a suite and I’m not complaining if they want to be elitist about it.

This is 42 Heritage Halls, room #4242. See all those 42s in there? That’s me taking my poetic liberties to inform you that my quarters are the literal answer to life, the universe, and everything else that matters to a college student. More often than not though, we simply call it one of “the new Heritage Halls.” To distinguish it from the old-school ones that resemble shoe-boxes re-purposed as stash troves of miscellany, they’re built in L-shaped townhouses around a miniature quad green, traditional yet bluntly tall. The L-shapes always make me think of knights’ moves in chess. To distinguish it from the lovingly dedicated names of  “A. Respected Benefactor Hall,” they’re labelled consecutive numbers. They roll off the tongue quicker, and further reinforces their contemporary apartment-style moods. The old Heritage Halls also have apartments that might even be referred to as a suite similarly. Both old and new halls have six people to a suite, two people to a bedroom, a kitchen and living area, and suite-exclusive bathrooms.

That said, new Heritage has two (2) bathrooms to a suite. And has elevators. Which gives it rights to plushness.

And forget about hoping to find better housing outside Heritage and thereby one-up me. No can do. Helaman Halls typifies what most people think of as a dorm–you open the door and there’s just enough space for two extra-long twins. (Funny how mattress sizes can sound like cannibalism out of context.) Wyview Park has always been apartment complexes, so the living space is still ideal for transitioning into out of home comforts, but as it’s cemented to the far north part of campus where it takes about 20 minutes just to walk to the student center much less your classes, it really doesn’t compete with the easy 5 minutes you get with Heritage. The Foreign Language Residence? I can’t argue with you if you want to return home from the stresses of classes and on top of homework have to learn a new language just to communicate with your roommates. Wymount Terrace? It’s married housing. If you wanna live on-campus, that’s where you go after you’ve tied the knot. Just another example of why [insert snide remark about how all your single friends are living in New Heritage without a care].

And anything off-campus–this is still a fuzzy area for me as I currently don’t have to worry about it and haven’t researched it heavily, but this is my understanding of it as it applies to my school: unless you’re lucky enough to snatch one of the apartments right across the street, and preferably on the south side of campus, you’re going to have worry about little things like getting a car and feeding it and taking care of it and obliging to everyone else’s demands for carpools when you say you want to go shopping and immediately everyone else has to go shopping too or they “just want to borrow it” for this “one little thing” they have to go do and while your baby is gone from you you’re constantly worrying that it’s never, ever going to come back to you. Or if you’re like me and adverse to cars, you have to figure out bus schedules and still pay money for that and ride with strangers (I’m not adverse to strangers particularly so, but perhaps you are) and being unable to control your own transportation you might miss a class or get home later than you wanted. Or perhaps  you have a bike but you’re not used to riding it in the thin, mountainous Utah air when you are from the Midwest and quite used to spoiling your bloodstream with oxygen like you would spoil a child and so when you get to Utah immediately your body wants to know “WHERE IS IT? I WANT IT!” and you must admit that you can’t give it what it wants and it throws a tantrum and leaves you exhausted far sooner than you would like while everyone stares at you wondering how you can be so unfit when you don’t even look fat.

TL;DR A little known natural habitat of penguins is a pillow that is as plush as them.