Final Semester
Some part of me had probably expected that the first week of this last semester would be composed of professors telling seniors to take it easy since this would already be the last, and most possibly, the only semester we could finally enjoy in peace. I don’t know what came over me, expecting some leniency from them because of a tiny sentimental thing like “The Last Semester”. Probably as my punishment for expecting this type of bullshit treatment, the opposite thing has happened and I now face the gallows last semester with the full knowledge that this has the potential to be the heaviest of all workloads, complete with maniacal professors laughing amidst a background of flying term papers embellished with D’s.
Monday, after getting lost in the communications department, I have belatedly found out what I was getting into by signing up for a journalism class. Every imaginable artistic-looking stereotype had probably piled up in one classroom and was eyeing me, knowing I, a mere management major, definitely did not belong to this artsy-artsy writing elective. And it’s when some supposedly notorious columnist/ professor entered the classroom and started the lecture by menacingly saying, “All of you seniors here, welcome to hell…” that I knew I had gotten myself into something I didn’t really need.
I sat at the back and tried not to be intimidated by the fact that I was probably the only one who wasn’t in the Humanities section taking a course like this. I comforted myself by damning all of these “independent soul” types under my breath, telling myself I was probably the only genuine independent soul there who had braved all odds and deviated by entering a class which did not belong to my curriculum. All of ye are just dumb sheep-like posers. Heh.
After finding out the first few minutes of class that I had a hyperactive professor who made the most obvious jokes like something out of a beginners’ stand up comedy (which of course everybody else thought was knee-slapping hilarious, ye dumb sheep), I noticed that the girl beside me was laughing the hardest. And even while the professor was just talking, explaining requirements in a slightly amusing way, she was the only one gasping for breath. Yep, cus you know, it’s real side-splitting comedy here that we have. I just tried to not make my eyebrows twitch in annoyance and ignore her wheeze-like giggles, because I had less irritating things I could concentrate inside the class.
Like, say, the interesting love story budding right in front of me.
Well, in front of me in the class sits a dashing young French guy (not really dashing, just that he looks more appealing than most of the French guys in the university, sans the balding spot.) Okay, so as I was envying French Guy’s long lashes, a late student comes in and sits a seat apart from French Guy. This tardy guy really looked like one of those types to be tardy… you know, flip-flops, creased jeans, rumpled band t-shirt, thick-framed glasses and a quite messy Jesus haircut.
So Emo Jesus (EJ) guy sits on the same row as French Guy, who stares at him quite intently, and they stare at each other for a couple of seconds before paying attention again to the professor. Since only I and Hyena Girl were behind them, I could guess that I was the only one who saw this curious exchange of glances from both parties (Hyena girl was busy staring at the professor with something akin to hero worship. Or something else, which is too disgusting to think about.)
During the two-hour lecture, whenever Jesus would laugh, French Guy would stare at him for a second and then turn away. And then Jesus would look sideways at FG this time, for a second again, and then turn back to the lecture.
My friend Tarie tells me that it’s been said all French are innately bisexual, it’s just a matter of finding the right person. Maybe French Guy’s found the right person and it was love at first sight for him. I can tell a big crush when I see it, and this was definitely it. I just don’t know if Emo Jesus feels the same, but why has he been giving back open curious looks to French Guy? What should he say to confirm? Euh, excusez moi, est-ce que vous etes homosexuel? Oui?! Moi aussi!
Is this just one of those “Rivalry of the Writer” types and they were checking out the competition? Or could it be love, oh looove… blossoming inside this crappy journalism class?
Stay tuned next week, when I will be forced not to cut class just because my nosy self can never pass up a good story.
Monday, after getting lost in the communications department, I have belatedly found out what I was getting into by signing up for a journalism class. Every imaginable artistic-looking stereotype had probably piled up in one classroom and was eyeing me, knowing I, a mere management major, definitely did not belong to this artsy-artsy writing elective. And it’s when some supposedly notorious columnist/ professor entered the classroom and started the lecture by menacingly saying, “All of you seniors here, welcome to hell…” that I knew I had gotten myself into something I didn’t really need.
I sat at the back and tried not to be intimidated by the fact that I was probably the only one who wasn’t in the Humanities section taking a course like this. I comforted myself by damning all of these “independent soul” types under my breath, telling myself I was probably the only genuine independent soul there who had braved all odds and deviated by entering a class which did not belong to my curriculum. All of ye are just dumb sheep-like posers. Heh.
After finding out the first few minutes of class that I had a hyperactive professor who made the most obvious jokes like something out of a beginners’ stand up comedy (which of course everybody else thought was knee-slapping hilarious, ye dumb sheep), I noticed that the girl beside me was laughing the hardest. And even while the professor was just talking, explaining requirements in a slightly amusing way, she was the only one gasping for breath. Yep, cus you know, it’s real side-splitting comedy here that we have. I just tried to not make my eyebrows twitch in annoyance and ignore her wheeze-like giggles, because I had less irritating things I could concentrate inside the class.
Like, say, the interesting love story budding right in front of me.
Well, in front of me in the class sits a dashing young French guy (not really dashing, just that he looks more appealing than most of the French guys in the university, sans the balding spot.) Okay, so as I was envying French Guy’s long lashes, a late student comes in and sits a seat apart from French Guy. This tardy guy really looked like one of those types to be tardy… you know, flip-flops, creased jeans, rumpled band t-shirt, thick-framed glasses and a quite messy Jesus haircut.
So Emo Jesus (EJ) guy sits on the same row as French Guy, who stares at him quite intently, and they stare at each other for a couple of seconds before paying attention again to the professor. Since only I and Hyena Girl were behind them, I could guess that I was the only one who saw this curious exchange of glances from both parties (Hyena girl was busy staring at the professor with something akin to hero worship. Or something else, which is too disgusting to think about.)
During the two-hour lecture, whenever Jesus would laugh, French Guy would stare at him for a second and then turn away. And then Jesus would look sideways at FG this time, for a second again, and then turn back to the lecture.
My friend Tarie tells me that it’s been said all French are innately bisexual, it’s just a matter of finding the right person. Maybe French Guy’s found the right person and it was love at first sight for him. I can tell a big crush when I see it, and this was definitely it. I just don’t know if Emo Jesus feels the same, but why has he been giving back open curious looks to French Guy? What should he say to confirm? Euh, excusez moi, est-ce que vous etes homosexuel? Oui?! Moi aussi!
Is this just one of those “Rivalry of the Writer” types and they were checking out the competition? Or could it be love, oh looove… blossoming inside this crappy journalism class?
Stay tuned next week, when I will be forced not to cut class just because my nosy self can never pass up a good story.