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Catherine Fischer

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Wild Child [May. 15th, 2004|05:03 pm]
Catherine Fischer
[mood |lazyprocrastinating]
[music |Volare: The Very Best of The Gipsy Kings (in a Latin mood)]

The day after another all-nighter. This is starting to become a habit! I feel like I'm going through a second (or maybe first) adolescence; I'm sure I'll eventually come back to my senses.

Last night was my class fundraiser party. While the big student drink-fests aren’t usually my scene, I wanted OUT. Besides, it was hosted by my class, and most everyone was there, which was fun. I’m starting to love seeing those familiar faces.

I showed up unfashionably early; thinking that 9 o’clock was late enough, I was discomfited to find that I was one of only a handful of people there. (Tom, one of the inmates of the house, told me that things don’t usually crank up until 10:30 at these things. 10:30?! I’ve been asleep half an hour by then, normally!) There I was, wearing my midriff-exposing silk dress, feeling very naked and awkward. To make matters worse, the DJ was a total loser, playing almost exclusively rap all night – suckville! (He also exhibited the typical Caribbean problem of inappropriate volume. It was so loud it was painful, and deafening.) So I wandered around a bit, checking out the house. Several classmates live there – it’s a big commune-like affair, with random, Escher-like architecture, a pool (which they spent all week cleaning out and refilling), a hot tub (which doesn’t work), a nice living room (made a good dance floor), and a superb view of Basseterre and Port Zante. After a while, some of my friends showed up; I hung out, talking (shouting, actually). Eventually, despite getting a really slow start, the party picked up, and – O delight! New faces! – a bunch of the human medical school students from Windsor University showed up. (Dr. Wallace was there, too. He was the only faculty member present. He NEVER misses a party. He and I spent some time discussing the compromising-looking photos taken of the two of us back on my first semester catamaran trip – due mostly to the fact that the camera-wielder was ALSO drunk, and I was very obviously loaded and laughing my ass off – before he wandered off to take some more compromising-looking photos of other people. I don’t think he got photos of the people who jumped naked into the pool, though.) I ended up dancing with a number of the med students, which was a blast – a lot of good-looking Indian or Indian-derivation students. The first guy I ended up talking and dancing with was Caucasian, 44, divorced twice, had two little kids, pursuing his dream better-late-than-never, like me…and was pushy in a somewhat clumsy manner, which was off-putting. I know…what a choosy bitch I’ve become! Nonetheless, one of his fellow students, a charming Canadian of Indian descent, came to my rescue…man, could that boy dance! Had all the moves, the eye contact, and the best damn grin…he told me I was the best dancer he’d gotten to dance with that evening. Unfortunately, I ended up getting monopolized by another student (cute but clueless 21-year-old, who didn’t understand the art of letting go, or taking a hint while it was still courteously-put), and Mo (the great dancer) escaped. Poo!

A bunch of my classmates found my presence extremely amusing, since I never show up at these things; I got suckered into taking a shot from the “ice luge” – basically, a big ice block, with a zigzag course carved into the surface of it, that a shot was poured into (the mouth of the person paying at the receiving end at the bottom of the block). It was kind of fun – especially with all the hype and silliness, which some of my classmates excelled at – but otherwise hardly worth the bother. (It WAS nice and chilled, though.) Apart from this, there were plenty of other attempts to get me to drink more, and a whole lot of photos of me taken (which I really worry about – most of those will probably look very, very bad later). Ah, well. Let the young ‘uns have their fun when one of the Old Ones shows up. It was an interesting study in what the frat parties I never attended in college must’ve been like.

Slept in too late today to do my shopping. Oog. Pasta again, until the Dominica produce boat comes in Monday. I really need to prepare some real food! (And no more eating at the school cafeteria – I get sick every time I do, and that’s the ONLY place I’ve gotten sick at, in all the Caribbean.)

Sigh. I suppose I should get back to studying. Epizootiology is deadly dull. Maybe looking at radiographs and practicing suturing will be more fun.
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