Zeke Weeks

This week has been really weird. I haven’t been doing much… And I don’t feel very stressed (perhaps I should?) but I am definitely in the mid-semester going-through-the-motions. Meh.

Today all of the residence halls ditched their powdered eggs and deep-fryers for “A Taste of Colorado” – everything was homegrown in-state. And everything was really good. I had excellent pesto, chimichangas, Mexican rice, apple pie…. lots of stuff. At least nicer-restaurant quality. So tasty, mi estomago está en el cielo.

There was a local folk-rock band playing, too. It would have been bluegrass, except that they had someone playing drumset (the rare occasion where I prefer drums to be absent). Now I go to a lot of shows, as my parents are ex-deadheads  with great taste in music. At most of these jam band shows, pretty much everyone dances… But there is no specifically named style.

So you hippie-dance.

The short of the matter is that the band tonight launched into Shakedown Street for their second song. And I hippie-danced in front of about half my hall. And I didn’t care.

Usually I only feel comfortable hippie-dancing in front of people my parents’ age. Which is weirder: the fact that I hippie-danced in the first place, or that I would only feel comfortable doing it around my parents?!

Hmm…