Other than finals weeks, I don't think I've seen my fellow Yotes more stressed out than during the week of Room Draw. Everywhere I went last week, I would run into someone frantically fretting over the number they had been assigned, worrying that their previous residential plans would now be undermined by sheer luck (or unluck) of the draw. Combined with the fact that the number of single rooms has dwindled since last year in preparation for the large incoming freshman class, my fellow sophomores seemed afraid for their futures, even moreso than I did during registration last semester.

Between Bowling Night, Elections, a math test, absolutely gorgeous weather, and a track meet, the first week back from Spring Break has been kind of a whirlwind. Between all of that, though, was my second favorite holiday of the year (trumphed only by Thanksgiving): April Fool's Day. 

After a week of slogging through midterms, it’s spring break and I’m back at home in Boise to spend the week with my furry friends. The crazy thing about spring break is that it means six weeks have already gone by, and there’s only six left before the summer. That’s a little too fast for my taste.

When everyone came home from Christmas break, we adopted a few communal pets on our floor. We have one beta fish, one sucker fish, two goldfish, one "yard fish" which was found last summer in someone's irrigation sprinkler, and two shrimp.

The beta has its own tank, but all of the other fish live in a tank on a table in our fishbowl. We're working on a system to organize who will take care of them.

I've never been a big fan of fish as pets. They are cool to watch, and to write dialog for, but for the most part, they are pretty boring, and gross to clean up after.

A few hours ago, President Barack Obama clinched the Presidency after being declared the projected winner of Ohio, an important swing state that was challenger Mitt Romney's last hope of victory. And while the Obama supporters in Chicago danced around and rejoiced and the Romney supporters cupped their hands over their mouths and shook their heads at their giant screens, my suitemates and I sat watching our smaller screen, quoting pro-Obama slogans at one another and telling all who would listen that the result was obvious from the start.

Last year as a freshman, I was one of the lucky ones that managed to get a single room. To be honest, it was a relief knowing that I'd always have someplace to myself, an area where I could just lock a door and not worry about being barged in on. I didn't need to worry about a roommate waking me up early in the morning, stealing my stuff, or just being generally creepy five feet from where I slept. Having that single was a security blanket, one I'm glad I had.

Hayman is generally known to be a little bit louder than the other dorms, and I have to say, I wouldn't have it any other way. Something is always going on, whether it is a study party, a game of Ultimate Spoons, a Nerf War, movie night, Assassins, or just a small-scale dance party. For those of you who have never had the chance to experience it firsthand, I've filmed a typical Sunday night. Here is a little taste of life in Hayman:

--Claire Cushing

I'll be honest--when I bought this scroll in Disney World a couple of years ago, it was only because I thought it looked pretty sweet hanging in the small Epcot shop that was selling them. I'm a sucker for Asian calligraphy, and this was about as authentically Japanese as I could hope to find, so it was an easy decision to buy it.

Ikea: it’s the ultimate labyrinth of our time, minus the Minotaur. Boise may not be big enough to merit its own Ikea, but it’s an easy, not too-long drive from Salt Lake City, so my parents and I went down for the weekend and stayed in nearby Park City. I happily spent a few hours lost in the giant maze on a quest to equip my dorm room with inexpensive Swedish goods. One rug, lamp, mirror, pot, pan, collider, spoon, curtain rod, and curtain set later, my parents and I emerged relatively unscathed.

One of the constant things I've found myself pondering across college life is the question of "home": how we create it, and where we find it. Over the past week, I've been lending my sunburned body to both friends and family to the familiar game of hauling boxes, hurdling truck-beds, and the highs-and-lows of jamming furniture inside unyielding doorframes. I like offering to help; you get to share in some of the satisfaction that arises from structuring a place where people live.