I like talking to her because she's obviously one of those girls who used to be popular in high school and someone I never would have talked to if I had attended the same school. Somehow, though, she and I became friends, because she's in the room right across from mine, and when I woke up the morning after I first moved into the dorm and opened my door, she and her mom were moving boxes into her own room and unpacking. And I talked to her, right, and I have no idea where I got the courage to because I'm never great with starting conversation, but she and I were both transfers and we were both alone in our rooms because our roommates hadn't moved in yet, and for some reason that was enough common ground for us to become friends.
She and I are different in a lot of aspects: she's an extrovert and likes making new friends, while I'm acutely introverted; she's in a relationship and I'm not; she's what you would call conventionally "beautiful" and I'm over here looking like a sack of freshly dug-up potatoes; etc., etc.
She's majoring in Psychology. She has a boyfriend who transferred this year to Cal with her and, well, I think that's super duper cute.
Anyway, what was I saying?
Right. So she and I were talking one night, probably the night when classes started. Wait. I wrote so much up there that didn't pertain to the story I was trying to tell that I actually forgot what the whole point of this was. Shit. Okay, hold on.
Damn, okay, I'm gonna write about that conversation some other day when I remember what it was about. Until then, I guess there's just gonna be a post about this girl and how I became friends with her. Oh well.