My accumulation of keys continues. As an STA, I have keys not only to the ITS offices, but masters to all the buildings for which I am responsible, including a sorority house and a frosh women’s dorm. As of today I have one to the music theory lab in the basement of Grant, which contains several MIDI machines and a synthesizer so sweet I’m afraid to use it for fear of drool.
In years past, as a charter member of a campus prankery organization which will go unnamed, I would also have drooled at the possibilities for mayhem offered by this kind of access. We wouldn’t have done anything as mundane and male as, say, panty raids, but I imagine there would have been Dada window graffiti and things filled with balloons.
Thinking about it today, though, I found the desire to do such mischiefs absent. It’s not that I’ve gotten tired of it or “grown up” or anything–I’d still love to see our walk to graduation marked out with marshmallows on sticks. It’s a curious but common paradox: I only want to pull off pranks if they don’t seem possible.
I want to get into some kind of trouble tonight, though. Will once said that I have an unexpectedly destructive sense of humor, or words to that effect. The environment at dinner tonight aggravated me in more ways than one, and I think it’s brought out my Ray Dooley side in a way that nothing much has since early fall term.
y’all are gonna keep fuckin around wit me
and turn me back to the old me
