How I got back to the dorm so early.
At 7:50, I woke up to one of songs you can't remember past a few minutes after you heard it, but is nonetheless really old school and half gets on your nerves and half calls back thoughts and feelings from what seems like forever ago. As is typical with this song, I forgot what it was.
I immediately remembered my dream that was about me being extremely creative, writing, and performing songs. The trippy part of these dreams (I've had quite a few of them) is that if I play things just right, I can remember exact lyrics and melodies to the songs I come up with in them. I didn't this time, though, and all I remember is that I wrote 2 songs from a concept album called "Heart" where every song began with the word "Heart." I was impressed with my unconscious. Kudos to it.
I trudged to the bathroom, which each day becomes more and more like a zombie movie, with the shuffling feet making unnecessarily scary atmospheric noises because of the squishy and floppy shower sandals. The blank stares on everyone's faces, the substances that are often oozing out of their mouths around the 6 or so consecutive sinks. It's just a pretty sight, I know.
The shower is a constant battle, by the way. Well it's not really a battle I can do anything about. Never mind, I take that back, too. Let's just say that the hot water is limited on each floor. It's more or less dependant on how many people are showering at once. I secretly but viciously curse everyone that is showering as I walk in or starts a shower as I am in the middle of one (I can tell because the water heat will drop abruptly). I suppose I have a few courses of action. I could
a) Do nothing, battling the fluctuating tides of heat and cold that are somewhat similar to that of the typical outlook on life.
b) Run around naked and bang on people's shower doors as they attempt to shower at the same time as me, thus becoming as the floor lunatic who showers at 7:55 and should be avoided.
c) I could create a signup sheet for times to shower in 5 minute increments, thus becoming as the floor neurotic who showers at 7:55 and should be tormented further by as many people showering at that exact time as possible.
More on my decision later.
I then skipped along to Psych 101. I got there pretty early, so I sat down in an aisle or isle seat. There was a packet of paper on the ground called "What Are You Juggling" that I think belonged to a girl across the way. I decided to photodocument the attempts made by people to end its life as a clean packet and make it dirty by stepping on it. I mean, was this really the destiny of the proud tree that once stood tall and giddy at the thought of the sun rising? And now, not even to be respected in the afterlife? I have about 30 attempts at the packet's life documented, and yet failed to capture the one foot that landed quite directly on top of it.
Agghh! Be Careful!
The girl didn't even notice. Poor little guy. I also took video of a tech assistant assigned to help the tech as he was rocking out to his mp3 or CD player. He comes in every morning and just so apathetically sets up the technology, waits for the teacher, and then departs. Who are you tech guy? I saw you eating lunch today at the GSU, alone. Who are you and why are you the tech guy?
rock on, tech guy of mystery.
Shortly thereafter, a lady walked in and said "the class is canceled Dr. Feinstein called" very awkwardly. I am to later find out, in an elevator, that she in fact could not come to class because she was stuck in an elevator. Which was comforting at the time.
But before we could storm out all quickly and cliche-like with huffs and puffs of disaffected youth-dom anger, an Australian mate sort of swooshed in and gave a 2 minute splat of a chat about the opportunity to be selected to go visit all these countries for course credit and all that. Everyone actually stayed and listened, which was interesting. If he wasn't good lookin' I doubt they would have. Actually, maybe they would have because it would have been even more of a spectacle to see an unattractive Australian, which doesn't seem to happen all that often.
And that's how I got back to the dorm so early.
I immediately remembered my dream that was about me being extremely creative, writing, and performing songs. The trippy part of these dreams (I've had quite a few of them) is that if I play things just right, I can remember exact lyrics and melodies to the songs I come up with in them. I didn't this time, though, and all I remember is that I wrote 2 songs from a concept album called "Heart" where every song began with the word "Heart." I was impressed with my unconscious. Kudos to it.
I trudged to the bathroom, which each day becomes more and more like a zombie movie, with the shuffling feet making unnecessarily scary atmospheric noises because of the squishy and floppy shower sandals. The blank stares on everyone's faces, the substances that are often oozing out of their mouths around the 6 or so consecutive sinks. It's just a pretty sight, I know.
The shower is a constant battle, by the way. Well it's not really a battle I can do anything about. Never mind, I take that back, too. Let's just say that the hot water is limited on each floor. It's more or less dependant on how many people are showering at once. I secretly but viciously curse everyone that is showering as I walk in or starts a shower as I am in the middle of one (I can tell because the water heat will drop abruptly). I suppose I have a few courses of action. I could
a) Do nothing, battling the fluctuating tides of heat and cold that are somewhat similar to that of the typical outlook on life.
b) Run around naked and bang on people's shower doors as they attempt to shower at the same time as me, thus becoming as the floor lunatic who showers at 7:55 and should be avoided.
c) I could create a signup sheet for times to shower in 5 minute increments, thus becoming as the floor neurotic who showers at 7:55 and should be tormented further by as many people showering at that exact time as possible.
More on my decision later.
I then skipped along to Psych 101. I got there pretty early, so I sat down in an aisle or isle seat. There was a packet of paper on the ground called "What Are You Juggling" that I think belonged to a girl across the way. I decided to photodocument the attempts made by people to end its life as a clean packet and make it dirty by stepping on it. I mean, was this really the destiny of the proud tree that once stood tall and giddy at the thought of the sun rising? And now, not even to be respected in the afterlife? I have about 30 attempts at the packet's life documented, and yet failed to capture the one foot that landed quite directly on top of it.
Agghh! Be Careful!
The girl didn't even notice. Poor little guy. I also took video of a tech assistant assigned to help the tech as he was rocking out to his mp3 or CD player. He comes in every morning and just so apathetically sets up the technology, waits for the teacher, and then departs. Who are you tech guy? I saw you eating lunch today at the GSU, alone. Who are you and why are you the tech guy?
rock on, tech guy of mystery.
Shortly thereafter, a lady walked in and said "the class is canceled Dr. Feinstein called" very awkwardly. I am to later find out, in an elevator, that she in fact could not come to class because she was stuck in an elevator. Which was comforting at the time.
But before we could storm out all quickly and cliche-like with huffs and puffs of disaffected youth-dom anger, an Australian mate sort of swooshed in and gave a 2 minute splat of a chat about the opportunity to be selected to go visit all these countries for course credit and all that. Everyone actually stayed and listened, which was interesting. If he wasn't good lookin' I doubt they would have. Actually, maybe they would have because it would have been even more of a spectacle to see an unattractive Australian, which doesn't seem to happen all that often.
And that's how I got back to the dorm so early.