My chemistry book does not have a periodic table in it while my roommate's physics book does. I find that somewhat strange, as the periodic table does not really have as much to do with physics as it does with chemistry. I have come to the realization that Indian producer people truly are strange. This realization has come after a weekend of analyzing music videos and such. I mean, they parody off of old songs as well as songs from here and incorporate a million and one costume changes and odd moves into their dances. The people upstairs just made another random noise. It sounds like they are always moving furniture or wrestling or something. I'm pretty sure there are guys up there, since I don't think that girls move their furniture daily and wrestle. I really don't know what they do upstairs. The people next door to us are just as strange. They screen their phone calls I think; their phone is always ringing and no one picks up. But then I hear them in their room. Actually, I'm beginning to think that screening phone calls is a pretty good idea. We've gotten some random phone calls. Some of these calls came from people I know very well and yet I can't understand the messages they leave on the machine. I just realized that I have very random thoughts; I think that this means that I'm not really focused on what I'm doing or something. Actually, I'm trying to think of something really meaningful to say in these twenty minutes and my mind is coming up quite blank. I just don't seem to be able to find an issue to get up on a soapbox about. That is quite sad; generally I always have something that I can just ramble on and on about for hours on end. Yet when I'm called to do just thatnot a thing shows up. I wonder when I'm going to get rid of my cough. I refuse to take cough syrup because I don't like the taste of it, and so I'm going to be suffering with this cough for a while. I don't know why the cough syrup manufacturers can't add artificial flavors to the cough syrup to make it taste good. Then again if they did that, kids would want to take it and then they would get addicted to it. That would most definitely not be a good thing. I guess even if it tastes bad enough people buy it; but making it taste better would be a good thing. At least, change the flavor from cherry to, say, grape. Grape is a good flavor. Chocolate is a good flavor too. I like chocolate. Actually I like all sugar; I think my roommate would agree with me in saying that the sugar I intake daily is what causes my oddness. But sugar is good nevertheless. So is chocolate. I don't think it causes acne. How can something that tastes so good be so bad? Of course the same comment could apply to other things as well (pizza, Italian food, etc). Ah well. I never knew twenty minutes could last so long. It's neverending. I feel like thirty minutes have gone by, but my watch tells me only fifteen. There was just another random thud from the people next door. I think they must have dropped something plastic. I just realized that I don't really know any of the people who live around me. I think that's probably because we have private baths and so we never really come across one another. That's kind of sad, considering I hear from everyone that "People who live on the same floor as you become your family" and I don't really seem to sense that. We all pass each other by in the hall and on the elevator, but we never really take the time to speak to each other. That, to be honest, is the one thing I didn't like about UT. The fact that everyone knows people already makes it impossible, or at least very difficult, to make new friends. Even when you make the effort, it's tough to meet new people. We all have our high school buddies. Well my time is almost up for writing this assignment; just as well, my hand hurts from typing for twenty minutes straight. If I had counted the number of times I hit the backspace button during this exercise, I think I would come up with this huge number. I never knew I'm so bad at typing; I have the speed part down, but the accuracy eludes me yet.