Funny how time flies
Never have I been more compelled to write so regularly. And without coercion. Must be something in the water. Which reminds me of a sewage test ran in several cities. Seattle's has the highest caffeine rate in its sewage. Comedy, I know. Can't make this up. Unless someone made it up and told me. Still, I never made it up. Telephone, guys.
Classes are wonderful and terrifying at the same time. I found myself floundering in such remedial classes that I wasn't challenged so I decided to take higher leveled courses. This has happened before, and usually ends with me looking at my grades at the end of the quarter, quietly saying to myself, "how...how did it come to this?" Then I'd drink myself stupid. In that order. I have met one interesting person in my distant travels of Hitchcock Hall. The first visit took several bad turns, three asks of freshmen for their campus maps, and several unwelcome looks of paranoia. Priceless. I am quite upfront and have no apprehensions with speaking with my outside voice inside, even if it means interrupting a syllabus day or possibly approaching the xenophobic exchange students halted on the sidewalk by a stranger demanding something in a foreign language. Could mean "gimme all your money" or it could just mean the fucking map I'm pointing at. Need it, I'm lost. Regardless of the flooded campus sidewalks and sea of heads on lecture halls, I see so many familiar faces. Just stationary and praying to reconnect with friends they're just dying to have lunch with. It's not a great atmosphere. It stinks with adolescence and desperation. I thought about carrying mace to ward off missionaries or campus loiterers. Would need to wear good running shoes and carry a lighter load between classes. Too much planning involved, though. I'd need it at the ready, and that would risk confiscation. No good.
This all just reminds me how much the two-hour screw-around break I have is going to atrophy my sanity.
Classes are wonderful and terrifying at the same time. I found myself floundering in such remedial classes that I wasn't challenged so I decided to take higher leveled courses. This has happened before, and usually ends with me looking at my grades at the end of the quarter, quietly saying to myself, "how...how did it come to this?" Then I'd drink myself stupid. In that order. I have met one interesting person in my distant travels of Hitchcock Hall. The first visit took several bad turns, three asks of freshmen for their campus maps, and several unwelcome looks of paranoia. Priceless. I am quite upfront and have no apprehensions with speaking with my outside voice inside, even if it means interrupting a syllabus day or possibly approaching the xenophobic exchange students halted on the sidewalk by a stranger demanding something in a foreign language. Could mean "gimme all your money" or it could just mean the fucking map I'm pointing at. Need it, I'm lost. Regardless of the flooded campus sidewalks and sea of heads on lecture halls, I see so many familiar faces. Just stationary and praying to reconnect with friends they're just dying to have lunch with. It's not a great atmosphere. It stinks with adolescence and desperation. I thought about carrying mace to ward off missionaries or campus loiterers. Would need to wear good running shoes and carry a lighter load between classes. Too much planning involved, though. I'd need it at the ready, and that would risk confiscation. No good.
This all just reminds me how much the two-hour screw-around break I have is going to atrophy my sanity.