I wish I could say that I have recently been too deeply involved in my social life to post on this blog, but it is untrue. I pretty much finished my last project for school a week ago and I have one final to study for. It’s strange to drastically alter lifestyles from being overwhelmingly busy to playing text twist online for hours to pass the time. I suppose I could’ve been doing more productive things, but I find it so much easier to stare at the television and eat handfuls of special k cereal (I’m trying to eat healthier).

I am proud to say that I have worked out every day for the past two weeks. I have found that it eases stress and helps me sleep better at night. I have also found that my heart rate breaches 200 beats/min when I am on the elliptical machine…is that bad? I have always preferred running outside on a trail somewhere to sweating bullets in a gym and being surrounded by others who can hear my painfully heavy breathing. I hate running on treadmills; I feel incredibly unaccomplished after not really going anywhere and unsuccessfully trying to distract myself with a book or magazine only to note that a minute has passed on the digital control panel. Anyways…it’s been really nice outside lately so I decided to take a jog to Carson Park. I get terrible shin splints from running on the cement so I decided to run alongside the sidewalk on the grass. I don’t do this anymore. On my way to Carson Park I twisted my ankle in a pothole covered by leaves. I fell on my face in front of a lovely Victorian home that was fortunately unoccupied. I quickly picked myself up and limped away. I tried running again after a few blocks, but I ended up walking home in shame.

On a completely unrelated note, I went with a group of students to South Carolina over spring break to work in a middle school and we had to present our findings at the Diversity Expo on Thursday. There was a vast array of projects from other classes, so it was encouraged to look at other group’s research. I wandered past the endless rows of poster boards pretending to be interested, when I stopped to see that some girl had brought her pet to school. Hanging from her pointer finger by its tail was a small flying squirrel. His eyes bulged out of his head as he scurried up her arm and into her flannel purse. She explained that the purse is flannel so that he can easily claw his way in and out, and so that he can smell her through the fabric to know he’s safe. She added that she was picking up his sister that weekend...I suppose she’ll need a bigger purse. She asked me if I wanted to pet him and I couldn’t help but laugh. First of all, I would never touch a squirrel because they are gross and have sharp claws. Second of all, I think squirrels should live in trees, not purses. She also said that she has an 8X5 ft. metal cage in her apartment that allows her furry friend to glide freely. I don’t even think my room is that big! Imagine how terrifying and annoying it would be to hear tiny squeaks followed by metal clanging all night long, as winged rodents soar beside your bed. Three things went through my mind as I headed for the refreshments table…
1.Why would you ever want a flying squirrel as a pet?
2.Why would you ever bring your pet flying squirrel to a University research presentation?
3.Why would you keep your pet flying squirrel in a flannel purse when people are constantly pushing through narrow, crowded rows of tables and could accidentally squash your hidden rodent?
Long story short, keep your squirrels at home, and preferably nowhere near me.

And that’s pretty much it…