This past weekend I made black bean and sweet potato enchiladas for a potluck at my friend Zach's apartment.
A medium sized group of English grad students came over and watched the first and third Indiana Jones movies.
It was a good time. I forgot how much I kind of love young Harrison Ford.
Zach says that there are a handful of men that dudes stereotypically try to model themselves after. For example, Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart. He suggested to me that Harrison Ford is also one of them--but I'm not sure. Wouldn't it be more specifically Han Solo or Indiana Jones? And I think I would go for Han Solo over Indiana Jones any day... despite Indy's being, yes, a college professor.
Anyway, back to the pot luck: the enchiladas were a success. I helped Zach make the guacamole that Alex and I used to take to the caf for burrito night at Hendrix. Bethany made these fucking amazing shortbread cookies with rosemary that just blew everyone away. I could get used to these pot luck-y functions: I get lots of compliments, I don't have to eat leftovers for a whole bloody week.
On Sunday I spent the day at Java House, being super-productive with Carmen, John (a first year)'s roommate and also a fictionist in the workshop. We then made some curry and a salad for dinner at her house and watched three episodes of Doctor Who and talked to Gizmo, the dog they are dog-sitting, with British accents.
All in all a pretty decent first weekend--although, I will admit, there were times when it was quite trying. I am not at all free from my insecurities. I need to work to get past the notion that if I am not spending time with others that it is a failure of some kind on my part.