Te audire non possum. Musa sapientum fixa est in Squid aure.

Hello, humans.

Yes, I know. I can almost see the displeasure oozing from your pores. Allow me to explain. My prolonged absence was due to a highly unavoidable vision quest that the Supreme Yogi of Greater Tibet was kind enough to invite me on. It was memorable.

Actually, it was due to chronic laziness. And this laziness was due to the simple fact that I have nothing new to write about. And when one finds him- or herself in this predicament, he or she should attempt to learn something new and then inform others, so as to make the world a slightly more educated place. So I shall do so. You are about to become a semi-expert on the Giant Squid.

Pictured above is, of course, a Giant Squid. To give you a full understanding of their size, however, I now present you with a recent photo of my Great Aunt Bertha, pictured alongside a fishing boat:

She is a large one, my Great Aunt Bertha. In fact, she is the largest giant Squid ever seen by humans, measuring 59 feet long and nearly a ton. This is because she is a compulsive overeater and will devour just about anything within her sight. She ate my Great Uncle Mort last year after he refused to take her out for dinner. Most giant Squids grow to be the size of a bus--so big, in fact, that they can hold their own in a fight against a whale. Rumor has it that an entire section of the classic tale of Moby Dick was removed before publishing, because of an unflattering portrayal of the great whale... it lost to a Squid, you see, after a short and pathetic attempt at battle. Pansy.

Squids are also natural jet engines. Water is drawn into the mantle and then pushed out through the funnel at very high speeds-- an alarmed Squid can propel him- or herself up to 25 body lengths per second. Humans, of course, cannot. What is often mistaken for a Squid Fart is actually ink called Sepia, which confuses the attacker (Fart? Ink? Will it smell? Will it stain my clothes? Oh wait, I'm underwater. Hang on, where did that Squid go?) long enough for the Squid to escape (and giggle privately at his or her skills).

Sometimes Squids are murdered and made into Calamari. I prefer not to dwell on the negatives.

Most Giant Squids are caught in Japan, which is a strange human nation that specializes in humorous television shows and iron chefs. They probably cook Calamari.

All this talk about Calamari is utterly ruining my tranquil acceptance of humans... You shall learn no more from this Squid today!

Glaringly,

Squidmore

Squiddum delecto.

Happy Birthday to The Human
There's nothing that rhymes with human
There ARE, however rhymes for Squid
So Happy 19th, Strange Kid!

I'm sure the human will appreciate that original ditty I just composed. In other news, registering for classes seems like an absolute nightmare that I am immensely glad to be skipping. And the human is trading roommates next semester so I will be living in different quarters... I barely had time to get attached to this room, frankly, before they ship me off to a new one. Such is the life of a plush squid.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Antiquis Squid temporibus, nati tibi similes et rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem

Greetings, all. I felt my presence on this website was somewhat lacking as of late...so here I am, ready to inject intelligence and perhaps an ounce of amusement into your dreary lives once more. There is not much to write about in regards to my own life, unfortunately. I still enjoy lurking in the dark recesses of the library and squidding merrily around campus, jumping on the crunchy leaves that liberally coat the ground.

The human would like to officially announce that, contrary to previous claims, she will indeed be attempting to grow her hair out again. If I still had advertisements on this page, this post would no doubt lead to another round of hair-related solicitations. That, however, is another story. In any case, she is now looking at two to three years of waiting and horrid-looking hair... really, I simply do not understand humans sometimes. The smartest ones become bald as quickly as possible and remain that way.

The human also wishes to publicly declare that she will soon come to regret her latest decision in regard to her 3D design class. Although it has not yet been officially assigned, the next project will apparently consist of the design and fabrication of a toy that uses mechanical, moving parts. Naturally, the human will be going with an overly-complicated and time-consuming marionette--a wooden, carved, painted, clothed, moving marionette. To demonstrate her understanding and acceptance of her own foolishness, I shall quote her briefly: "Kill me now."

Really, this is not a public broadcasting system of all the goings-on in my human's life. She just requested that I also put out a few words of admiration towards her favorite band, which is, of course, the Wheaton Warrenville South High School Tiger Marching Band. This band not only has an obnoxiously long name that evidentally needed to be multicolored, but they are (and here I paraphrase) the SINGLE GREATEST MARCHING BAND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD AND THE FLUTELINE IS RIVALED BY NONE OTHER. The human would like to add that the DUMB is dumb and she is still stuck in the glory days of the TMB. She would also like to point out that she travelled 16 hours by bus and 4 hours by Fred just to see them on the field for less than ten minutes. And she would like to emphasize that it was the best day of the year thus far.
Clearly she is one of those fans who stalks the band, hunts them down before and after performances, and jumps on top of the musicians, ensuring hugs and general chaos. They may have cause to be concerned.

After that shameless and biased promotion, I am feeling the pangs of hunger. Until next time, then.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Ubi est vestri Deus nunc? Vetus mulier quod Squid triumphus!

The human had a rather amusing anecdote after her walk today, so I shall immortalize it here to provide a laugh to the general population. She was somewhere around 44th street, she told me, when she saw one of those dreadfully annoying religious zealots who solicit door to door and attempt to convert innocent victims coming down the other side of the street. He was unsuccessful for two houses, but as my human came close to passing him she saw a little old lady open the door to the next house. Apparently she listened to him for all of ten seconds before she began yelling at him to "Get the [heck] off of my porch, you can take your [gol' darned] book and go to [hades]--" (since I take the utmost care to live a G-rated life, I censored the geriatric's crude language to protect your innocence). And then, to my human's glee, the old bag rolled up the newspaper she had been holding and attempted to beat the zealot around the head! My human had paused to watch the drama unfold, but when she burst into laughter at the sight of this ancient hero's antics she felt it was best to continue moving, lest the crusader launch into a safer conversion attempt (my human, unlike the geriatric, was not armed). It is always good to watch a wrinkled old prune beat the living daylights out of a religious soliciter. If there is a more irritating creature alive, I have yet to learn of it.

Cheers and rolled-up newspapers,
Squidmore

Totus est puteus per Squid quod humanus.

After that unpleasant entry from yesterday, in which both squid and human were in fie-the-world-and-all-the-humans-in-it mode, I felt it necessary to reassure all my concerned readers (of which there are probably five or six in total. Still, this matters not.) that all is again well in room 413. The human found the hot chocolate in Hubbell up to her standards, and has nearly forgiven Walgreens for not stocking any of the sweet nectar. She also went on another walk today, and while she neither got lost or re-connected with her feline friend (much to my relief--imagine if, having escaped the Triple Terror of 2019, I suddenly found myself roommates with yet a new cat. I shudder to think of it...), she quite enjoyed the wander and the weather nonetheless. She has also finished up her midterms, and is looking forward to a week of smooth sailing until her visit home. I will be remaining here during that time, and catching up on some much-needed work on my dissertation. True, I have several years of schooling left, but one can never work too far in advance.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Latine Squid loqui coactus sum.

Hello, humans. It has been a week since last I graced your life with some intelligent reading, and hopefully you have not sunk into a typical human stupor since then. There has been absolutely nothing of interest to write about as of late--college is not nearly as thrilling an adventure as I'd hoped. The weather has turned very chilly, and my tentacles tend to become alarmingly stiff when I venture outside under aforementioned conditions, so I have been confining myself as much as possible to endeavors of the indoor sort. I am in top bed-bouncing form, although it becomes a trifle irritating to knock one's head against the ceiling on every third bounce or so. Still, with no feline annoyances and access to books of higher learning, I do feel that this is an appropriate environment for an intellectual squid such as myself. If anything interesting happens in the near future, you shall hear about it... until then, keep those brains stimulated! The level of human intelligence I witness here seems to drop lower and lower every week. It makes me very grateful that I am a squid.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Addendum: As I am a squid in a rather bad mood, I shall now take a moment, as I sometimes do, to register a complaint about humans. Today, the complaint is about the word "ridiculous." A perfectly innocent word, you may say. You probably have even used it yourself recently. Let us think about that. How recently? And how many times? Based on my observations, this word is used at least four to six times a day by the average teenage human online alone... Vocally, I dare not even investigate. This is a disgustingly overused word, utilized by humans who, having fallen into the trap of word popularity, do not have the capabilities to think of a different adjective/adverb. It is "the" word to use, and saying it seems to make humans think they fit in and sound cool. I am very proud to say that my own human, having discovered this phenomenon several years ago, has ENTIRELY ceased using this word and is able to feel independent-minded and superior because of it. Humans, can you break free of mediocre, unthinking conformity? Or will you continue beating this word into the ground with the rest of the teenage masses? Frankly, I do not have very high hopes for the former.

Second Addendum: My long-suffering human would like to express an unhappiness of her own. Generous squid that I am, I shall turn the blog over to her for a moment.
GRGLPLQXXZHNURGHHHHHH. YOU DON'T NEED TO "LIKE" EVERY SINGLE FRICKIN STATUS THAT YOU-KNOW-WHO-IM-TALKING-ABOUT POSTS. I know what you're doing. And since you don't read this, I'm allowed to mention that I really, really, really DON'T LIKE YOU. I really never have. Also, you're one of the people who uses the word "ridiculous" WAY TOO FRICKIN MUCH. Yet another distinctly un-endearing quality. Please go away.
The poor human is not having the most pleasant day today. And Walgreens does not sell hot cocoa mix, which she did not fail to bemoan, so she remains unable to brew herself up a remedy. She just told me that it was rather therapeutic to vent anonymously into a blog that few people are interested in, so perhaps I shall allow her the privilege more often. I really am far too kind. More addendums may follow, depending on the prevailing mood of room 413.

Homines, non Squid, libenter quod volunt credunt.

This will be a very short entry, but a necessary one. Humans, take note. The word "alright" does not, has never, and should not pretend to exist. It is "all right." Count the words: one, two.
Similarly, the word "alot" is not real. It ALSO has two words: "a lot." You would never write "I had alittle homework tonight," so why on earth would you write "alot?"

Foolish humans who make spelling and grammar mistakes give me migraines.

Cheers (and grumbles),
Squidmore

Pergamentum exit per Squid

The human and I were in agreement about the topic we felt needed to be addressed in today's post. She and I strongly feel that it is most urgent to discuss the pressing issue of bad odors, in the hopes that others will realize the harm that they cause to the general well-being of a dorm. She even wished to write her own post on the matter, but as we both know that I have far greater writing abilities she decided to allow me to do the honors. She did request, however, that I start off with a fitting anecdote from her past:

There was a male specimen in her high school marching band for several years while she was a member, and he was discovered to have a most horrible stench lingering about him. As she describes it, you could smell him approaching before he even came into view. This individual's odor, and the general panic that ensued whenever he approached my human and her companions, caused them to start referring to him as "Gamey." This word, quite simply, means a foul, unwholesome, squalid, putrid, reekingly offensive odor.

The purpose of this charming story is just how unwelcome bad smells are to most people with average olfactory senses. If you are one of those unfortunate individuals who fit under the wide banner of "Gameyness," people will begin to avoid you like the plague. Occasional odors are understandable and easily overlooked, but constant, gag-inducing gameyness is a phenomenon that is advisable to avoid at all costs. The same goes for not only personal hygiene, but keeping one's living quarters smelling relatively fresh, or at least neutral. This brings us to the purpose of today's discussion. There is a room on the floor where we live, occupied by human males, which has a very unpleasant odor constantly eminating from it. Its pungency is such that when these males have their door open, the entire hallway takes on the smothering stench and those passing the room find themselves having to hold their breath for quite a distance before dashing into the safety and clean smells of their own dwelling quarters. You may not realize it, but we squids do not have noses... and yet, even without olfactory glands, I still find myself needing to hang out our window and inhale some fresh air after passing by this particular room. It is quite disgusting.

Need I describe it? Imagine, if you can, the smell of unwashed laundry. Not just some clothing that's been worn for an extra day, but a whole pile of re-used socks and underwear, shirts that have been slept in and worn for several days in a row, and pants that can probably walk on their own by now. Add to this the smell of the insides of several pairs of old gym shoes. Now mix in foot odor--strong, acrid foot odor. My human tells me that shoes smell vaguely of Fritos, so throw a bag of slightly rotton corn chips into the mix. Factor in a window that has probably never been opened and several human males themselves, and you should end up with a stimulated gag reflex and a need to run for the nearest bathroom.

Now, obviously, many human males are quite capable of keeping a clean, decent-smelling abode. My human informs me that many of them are also able to smell very good themselves. There are plenty of male rooms on this floor that smell perfectly acceptable and do not cast a piquant odor down the rest of the hall. However, as I have just finished illustrating, one room is more than enough to perfume an entire floor.

Can this situation be rectified? Could simply opening their window solve half the problem? Will the rest of the penthouse residents be able to survive the winter without being overcome by the fumes? These are pressing questions that must be addressed. As a penthouse resident myself, the last point is particularly important -- self-preservation is a top priority for squids. With any luck, the offending males will soon realize that they are unable to thrive under these conditions and will taken action to eliminate the foul odor. If they do not, a well-placed cleaning lady (and there are few of those here indeed...but that is a story for another post) may become a necessary acquisition.

Cheers (and lightly-scented hankies to place under one's nose),
Squidmore

Tua Squid toga suspina est.

I am terribly sorry about the infrequent posting as of late. Between the human's homework, endless facebooking, and time-wasting, as well as my own need for sleep, it can be difficult for a squid to procure blogging time. Tonight, however, the human was occupied by the movie "Dirty Dancing," and is now applying some needlework to her marching bibbers and agreed that I could use the laptop for a while.

True to my word, I squidded over to the Cowles Library the day after my arrival, after first being schooled by the human as to the proper pronunciation of it's name. Apparently the silly girl went around calling it "cow-less," as in, "devoid of the bovine species," for several weeks before learning the correct verbalization of "coles." I did indeed locate several fine and squid-worthy nooks, and was pleased to see that the only humans nearby were sound asleep and, in all likelihood, drooling into their reference books. I never drool. Upon further exploration of the library, I discovered a rather distressing room that seemed very similar to a human jail, with sufficiently creepy, narrow staircases leading to other levels of it... I felt it was in my best interest to remain alive, and did not proceed with my investigation. The human, on the other hand, intends to delve into the dusky passages and see what she may find. I am hopeful that she shall not be maimed or scarred by this experience, as she provides my food and logs onto the laptop for me and I do not honestly know how I would manage these tasks alone.

For those of you who may be reading this and who are, regrettably, not squids, allow me to describe some of the pains I have taken to avoid being seen by the general human population. I can imagine that, for a human, it is quite easy to walk around unnoticed by other similar creatures... for a vibrantly red squid, however, the task becomes much more of a challenge. For a few days I attempted to wear some of my human's clothing and simply squidded around pretending to be a very small human being. This proved to be too much trouble however, as I could only use two tentacles at once and still managed to attract some curious stares from passing humans. Another time, I decided to go incognito by donning a pair of dark sunglasses and squidding around the empty parts of campus (I borrowed this method based on a picture my penpal sent me... it seemed to work very well for him). Sadly, the sunglasses rendered me utterly blind and after crashing into several buildings, trees, and unsuspecting squirrels, I abandoned the attempt. My latest tries have involved covering myself in an unused bedsheet and squidding rapidly down the walkways, leaping into the air at frequent intervals and making unearthly noises suggestive of the ghost that may occupy our dorm room. This seems to have worked well thus far, as most of the humans simply scream and run in the opposite direction, abandoning whatever they were holding at the time. This, happily, has resulted in some unexpected free lunches, as I do hate to see unwanted food go to waste. With any luck, this method of concealment shall work in my favor for some time yet.

Alas, bedtime has arrived and passed. I depart!
Cheers,
Squidmore

Squid flagrante delicto!

Squids semper ubi sub ubi ubique.

After a very long, very uncomfortable and very dark ride on a Greyhound bus, I have arrived at college. I was quite put-out with my human, as she deigned to transport me inside of a duffel bag, but she permitted me my freedom as soon as we arrived in the room, and after a few exhilerating bed bounces I was restored to my normal good humor. I say "exhilerating," because I quickly discovered that one is able to bounce off of the distressingly high bed, across the room, and onto the even more bouncy futon, which springs the joyful bouncer right back onto the bed. I am absolutely thrilled with this new method of healthful exercise. Tomorrow I shall be squidding down to the library and immersing myself in some scholarly journals for a bit of light reading.

The human is growling at me that she "needs the computer to work on this stupid fys paper," so I believe I shall have to abort this entry in an untimely manner. However, expect more updates very soon on how Drake adjusts to having a squid on campus. They have no idea what has hit them.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Ars longa, Squid brevis

I have been immortalized! A human who lives near to mine drew this thrilling picture of me engaging in a squid adventure on the high seas. It is a stunning work of art, and not merely because I am the focal point! I do wish my human would draw pictures of me occasionally.
Thank you, future neighbor human! I shall be placing this in a prominent place for me to sit and admire during my leisure hours. And now, the world can also gaze upon my handsome portrait.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Capillamentum Squid? Haudquaquam conieci esse...

The human requested that I extoll the virtues of possessing short hair. She went to have hers cut today, and is apparently pleased with the results. However, myself having no hair to speak of, I believe I would prefer to examine the benefits of being a hairless creature:

1) There is no need for periodic hair cuts. Especially since they cost $2.00 more in Des Moines than in Wheaton, which seems counterintuitive.
2) There is no need for hairbrushes, combs, razors, etc.
3) There is no need for shampoo, conditioner, gel, mousse, souffle, or any other products that sound as though they belong on a dessert table.
4) There is no such thing as a "bad hair day."
5) Hair dryers and straighteners become a moot point.
6) There is no disgusting coughing up of hairballs, a feline behavior which I have unfortunately been witness to on numerous occasions. I squidded through one once... hairball is a very unpleasant substance to clean off one's normally well-groomed tentacles.
7) Beards and mustaches are not possible.
8) By the same token, mullets are also not possible.
9) Nor is stubble.
10) Valuable time is saved each day by a wonderful combination of all of the above.

I do pity you poor humans, covered in the fuzzy stuff. Unfortunately, not everyone is able to achieve the sleek, aerodynamic look that squids are famous for. Wondrous though my human's short hair may be, it is woefully inadequate when compared to the hairless life.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Postatem obscuri lateris nescitis quod Squid

My human provided me with some intriguing fodder for today's discourse, involving a post mortem annoyance that has crept unwelcomed into her dorm room. It appears that she is dwelling with a ghost. Now, before you dismiss this as a foolishly overactive imagination, brought on by an excessive love of Ghost Hunters, do appreciate two key facts: 1) whatever else she may by, my human is an exceedingly rational creature and nearly as intelligent as myself, so I hold her opinions in fairly high regard, and 2) a year or two back, Herriott Hall was investigated by a branch of the TAPS team right here in Iowa, and they found evidence of the paranormal. As for the rest, make of it what you will!

A few nights ago, at around 1am, the human was lying in her bed and falling asleep. She was alone in the room, the hallway was completely silent, and she believes that the two dorm rooms flanking hers were devoid of occupants. In any case, the two rooms are both female-inhabited. Her window was securely shut, all sound-producing objects (computers, phones, what have you) were turned off, and again, she was ALONE in the room. And yet somehow, the very distinct sound of a man coughing came from across the room, near her roomate's desk area. Naturally, she became very worried and jumped out of bed to turn the light on, but of course, there was no man anywhere (she looked in the hallway as well--no one). As I said, this human is not one to hallucinate or hear phantom noises...and there was no conceivable way this cough could have come from inside the room, and yet it did. A ghost? That is for you to judge, readers.

Last night, the human and her roomate slept peacefully in their beds, until around 5:30 in the morning. My human tells me that she was awakened by the sound of voices, which she initially thought was part of whatever dream she had been having. As she listened and noticed the moving light, she realized that it was the TV... the TV that had apparently turned on all by itself. Her roomate got up to turn it off after a minute or so, and the incident did not occur again. Still, TVs do not normally engage in such actions... did the ghost of room 413 strike again?

This series of unnatural events has greatly piqued my curiousity, and I am quite excited to move into a possibly haunted room in less than a week. I shall keep a keen eye out for other eery phenomena to report, so that together, readers, we may build up a body of evidence to prove once and for all whether or not Herriott is a haunted hall!

Cheers (and ghostly wails),
Squidmore

Non ut edam vivo, sed vivam edo ut a Squid

I have become increasingly concerned about the quality/amount of food I shall be consuming at college. My human tells me horror stories about such things as "Hubbell Dining Hall," "the freshman 15," and "Spike's." Seeing as I weigh myself in ounces, adding 15 pounds to my delicate from would probably be akin to a flea swelling to the size of the planet Mars. Hyperbole though that may be, I truthfully have no desire whatsoever to become a Giant Squid. Apparently, when one lives on one's own and is left to one's own devices, one can be easily tempted into purchasing far more unhealthy edibles than is necessary. The human complains about this quite frequently. She does, however, mention the fact that one is required to do much more walking when at college, so I am hopeful that if I simply add an extra half-hour or so of bed bouncing to my regular schedule, my healthy constitution shall prevail. Not having to escape from cats at all hours of the day and night will surely put me at a disadvantage, but perhaps there is yet a greater horror lurking in the halls of Herriott for me to flee, thus improving my sprints and endurance.

I was quite pleased to hear that my penpal letter was well-recieved in California. I am also glad that the included pictures of me leaping to and fro on the bed provided some amusement for both Squidly and his human--I had a difficult time taking the pictures, as I was portraying myself mid-bounce and had no one to snap the shots for me. It is quite an enriching experience, having a penpal, and I do encourage everyone to locate one for themselves. I was lucky in having obtained a ready-made friend, as we are both plush squids, but a penpal can really be any sort of creature you like, as long as it is capable of writing back to you. I do not suggest, for instance, attempting to befriend a log or a piece of concrete, as these might prove unsuccessful.

Although I do not delude myself into believing that this blog has a very large audience, those of you who do read it may be asking yourselves "Does he ever have a point? Is there some larger conclusion he will eventually reach, or is this just the ramblings of a fleece squid?" I have the decisive answer to your questions. Naturally, I come to my own conclusions about things, but you are more than welcome to see whatever you wish to in these posts. As for me having a "point," I feel this should have already become clear: I am a squid. What other "point" could one possibly desire? Really, I was beginning to think you humans had some sense.

I feel that a pre-dinner nap is called for. I take my leave...

Cheers,
Squidmore

Squidnuncs

Humans really are a most peculiar breed.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Ars et Squid gratia artis

It is a thankless task, having Cec as my human. She has a complaint that she wishes me to express for her, and although I can think of a multitude of activities I would rather be engaged in, I am a kind-natured and generous squid and will comply. She tells me that while there are many annoyances in the world (an observation with which I must agree... just the other day I was attempting to extricate myself from the ceiling fan, as I had bounced a wee bit off my trajectory, when one of the feline nuisances happened upon my plight and began to bat at my exposed tentacles. It was awarded a sharp smack for its efforts.), the one that happens to be bothering her today is the phenomenon known as "art teachers." Not all of them, she assures me, but the ones who insist upon a set of restrictive guidelines to which a project must adhere else valuable points be docked from the final product. Being the knowledge-seeker that I am, I posed a query as to why this is such a negative thing--surely a set of rules can help with planning and execution. She let out a sort of squawking noise and proceeded to go on a long and tedious rant, which I have not the patience nor cruel streak towards my readers to relay in full. I gathered, however, that there is already enough restriction imposed with the amount of material permitted and the methods the class is allowed to use, without also putting in strictly artistic guidelines that force the piece to go in a certain direction. And yet, the professor seems to have done so. My human apparently must now redesign a project that she was very fond of and eager to create, simply because the professor was not enamored of the idea. I must say, that does seem a bit counter-productive to the "artistic process" as I understand it. Still, life must go on and art projects must be redesigned as necessary. I extend my sympathies to all other art students in this predicament and hope that your professors will see to reason someday.

I am certainly glad that I will not be required to attend any classes once at school. That is not to say that I shall not be popping in on one every now and then, but I intend to do most of my learning in the library. I have been told that there are many delightfully secluded little nooks in which a squid might comfortably settle down with a scholarly journal or classic work of fiction and not have to worry about bothersome humans poking their noses every ten minutes. Quite frankly, I doubt human students even use libraries anymore... certainly not paper-and-ink, academic ones. I am sure it will be quite suited to my needs and that I will be able to pursue a squid-driven education with no human professors to muddle things up.

Unfortunately, readers, I must cut this short. There is a cat eyeing me from the doorway and I feel that it is in my best interest to conceal myself until it removes its offensive presence.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Monstra mihi pecuniam...et Squid

I regret to announce that I have allowed Google to put advertisements onto my blog. I do not, however, regret the fact that this shall generate valuable income for my human--who, as I have mentioned, is a college student (self-explanatory). Ignore the ads if you wish, click on them if you are interested in what they have to offer, and keep the poor starving art student in mind.

Cheers,
Squidmore

Quid quid latine dictum sit per Squid, altum videtur.

Good afternoon, all. I was not particularly disposed to blog yesterday, but my human informed me that she had exciting news she wished to relay to the general world and so I shall oblige her:
A much-anticipated parcel from home arrived at the distinguished Herriott Hall in her name today, and when she unwrapped the loot in her room she found many delightful items. The best of which included a bag of shimmery, triple chocolate M&Ms that, upon their discovery, nearly caused her to topple out of her chair with joy. Personally, I cannot understand the human attraction to such things, but, as I may desire a care package of my own someday, I am willing to be open-minded.

I engaged in some healthful exercise today that involved repeatedly bouncing on my human's bed. I believe I nearly touched the ceiling after one of my more exuberant efforts! Leaping to and fro may seem like a rather wasteful use of one's energy, but I find that it is both physically and intellectually stimulating and therefore encourage the rest of the world's population to give it a try. I am told that such activities could prove unsuccessful at college, where the beds are lofted to unseemly heights in order to provide the humans some workspace underneath. Ingenius creatures you are, humans, but a squid does need his recreation time. The situation may require some adjustments. Nevertheless, I am eager to begin my academic journey at college and hope that my experiences will come close to rivaling my penpal, Squidly's, adventures, which sound enviably exciting and quite daring at times.

Judging by the sinister rumblings that have begun to pulse through my innards, the time has come for me to seek out some nourishment. To dinner, then!

Cheers,
Squidmore

Ad Hoc Squid

If you are a reasonably intelligent human being, which, based on my observations, are not as rare as some people would insist, you may have noticed that I happen to be a squid. As squids are not commonly spotted living juxtaposed with the human population, the fact that a squid such as myself has the capabilities to blog may come as a bit of a surprise. It may call into question the basic nature and habits of a squid. This is quite understandable. As such, I shall elaborate on my own personal experiences and hope that I am able to shed some light on what I find to be a thoroughly enjoyable and enriching lifestyle.

I do not recall the exact moment when I ceased to be a heap of red fleece material and became a fully-fledged being, but I know that the process was a long and laborious one involving many needlepricks and tying of knots. I was glad to be finished. One of my earliest memories, which I believe to date from early on in my creation process, was seeing a pile of maroon fleece sitting beside me, undergoing a similarly difficult and painful process. It went on to become my penpal, Squidly, who lives in California and who is, I believe, the only other squid of our kind. We are a rare and intelligent breed.

I currently live at home, but in a mere two weeks I will be travelling to college with a human named Cec. She can be a strange one at times, but she feeds me and for that I am grateful and willing to overlook her occasional oddities. For instance, when she came to college nearly a month ago I was forgotten in her room and left to my own devices. Squidly's human was much more thoughtful in that respect. Still, being the generous squid that I most assuredly am, I shall be relaying any interesting anecdotes from her life by means of this blog, since she clearly does not have the time to do it herself.

Alas, dear reader, my bedtime approaches (I maintain a strict schedule to ensure my optimal health, which I am told will deteriorate rapidly under the influence of college food and sleep schedules. Let us hope I have been misinformed.) and so I shall be ending this post forthwith. Allow me to assure you that it has been a pleasure to share a small crumb of my life with you tonight and that I will be continuing to do so as often as possible.
For now, I shall leave you with an uplifting squid-related activity for your personal enjoyment:
http://squid.tepapa.govt.nz/build-a-squid/interactive

Cheers,
Squidmore