(no subject)
When I was 17, I took my computer class sitting next to a bunch of guys from Iran. Now, these guys hated computers - their lives were too busy for anything besides sports, women, and Tupac. I, on the other hand, was quiet and nerdy. I liked RPGs, books, and I could name every part of the computers we were using (which was incidentally our first exam).
While we were polar opposites, an odd bond formed between me and one of them, who I'll call "A". It was the sort of bond that formed between prisoners, or people stranded together on a desert island. I taught him how to turn on his computer, and what a cursor was, and showed him how to get to his favorite Tupac sites (He's alive, man! He faked his death!). In return, I was entertained by him and his friends all year long.
We'd all be sitting there, typing away on our computers, learning our typing and our HTML, when you'd suddenly hear him do a countdown. 3...2...1... And then, at the top of their lungs, the Iranian guys would start to sing. "CALL THE COPS, WHEN YOU SEE TUPAC" This happened almost every week, and was funny every single time. Not to the Iranians, though. They sang this line as if it were their national anthem. They would always look puzzled when everyone else was laughing. Our teacher, Ms. W, would always smile and shush them.
"A" would always quiet down quickly for Ms. W, because Ms. W was a young, hot computer teacher, fresh out of college, and because "A" had a major crush on her. Whenever she was on the other side of the room he'd sneak peeks at her ass, or whisper about her. "Ms. W is so hot," he'd groan, clutching his keyboard. "I LOVE her."
I always chuckled to myself. It was a stupid thing to do, lust after a teacher. Teachers, no matter how hot they were, weren't people. They were in the realm of adulthood, in an untouchable position of authority. The very idea was impossible. It was like a mouse falling in love with an elephant. Cute, but nobody takes it seriously. But to "A" it was all real - Ms. W was his first love, even if she didn't know it yet.
One day he leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Did you see that?" he whispered, breathlessly. "When she lean over to help me...her breast - it touch me!" "A" took it as a sign that Ms. W was deeply in love with him. Of course Ms. W had noticed his clumsy gawkings and gave him a wide berth when she could - it was most likely an accident. But there was no convincing "A". He set about writing a flowery love note in his broken English. It was a train wreck waiting to happen.
The next day I ran to computer class, not knowing what to expect. Would "A" be sitting outside, a sobbing wreck? Maybe he would be getting chewed out by Ms. W, the principal, and his parents.
"A" was waiting outside for us. "She has a fiancee," he explained.
"That sucks," I said. "Oh well, that's that then."
It was then that "A" said something that I will never forget.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "It mean NOTHING."
"What," I said, incredulous. "But she's engaged...that's like being married, almost."
"Where I come from," he said, "women have many boyfriend. Even engaged."
This simple determined statement blew my mind. The concept of marriage was so sacred, so concrete to me. To become engaged to someone was, to me at the time, the ultimate pinnacle of achievement. It was something you worked your whole life for - you found the perfect person, flawless in every way, and then it was happily ever after in your perfect home with your perfect family. The idea that an engagement was breakable was unthinkable.
But he had thought it, and he was determined to make it happen.
Suddenly it dawned on me. He was right. Well, perhaps what he wanted to do was _wrong_, but ultimately he was right. A person who has the faith, the drive in themselves to do the unthinkable can do it, and can MAKE it right. While breaking up an engagement is a horrible thing to do, if you can live with yourself for doing it, _fuck_ the other person. You're happy, they'll get over it.
But if she was willing to break up her engagement for you, maybe she's willing to break up your future engagement to run off with someone else. You know what? IT MEAN NOTHING. If you've got the drive, you _can_ be better than the other suitor. You can beat people off her for your whole life with an oar if you really want her and if you have the drive to keep it up. Maybe one person can be worth all that shit, all the stress and the fighting and the constant competition.
Maybe the best partners in the world are like that. Constantly being fought over by the best. It's like some crazy ultimate fighting tournament, and the prize is THEM. They're pretty, smart, funny, and give great head. Constantly in a state of flux, they hop around from champion to champion. The losers settle down with their silver medals...almost as good, but they can relax, nobody's going to steal them from them.
And would I ever consider doing the same? Honestly? I don't know. I don't know very many people worth keeping an eye on all the time for, worth stressing over when I'm not around. But man, if I met someone I wanted as badly as "A" wanted Ms. W, it just might be worth it.
I'll never know if you got your computer teacher, but I salute you, "A" for what you taught me about life, you crazy Iranian guy.
TUPAC LIVES!
While we were polar opposites, an odd bond formed between me and one of them, who I'll call "A". It was the sort of bond that formed between prisoners, or people stranded together on a desert island. I taught him how to turn on his computer, and what a cursor was, and showed him how to get to his favorite Tupac sites (He's alive, man! He faked his death!). In return, I was entertained by him and his friends all year long.
We'd all be sitting there, typing away on our computers, learning our typing and our HTML, when you'd suddenly hear him do a countdown. 3...2...1... And then, at the top of their lungs, the Iranian guys would start to sing. "CALL THE COPS, WHEN YOU SEE TUPAC" This happened almost every week, and was funny every single time. Not to the Iranians, though. They sang this line as if it were their national anthem. They would always look puzzled when everyone else was laughing. Our teacher, Ms. W, would always smile and shush them.
"A" would always quiet down quickly for Ms. W, because Ms. W was a young, hot computer teacher, fresh out of college, and because "A" had a major crush on her. Whenever she was on the other side of the room he'd sneak peeks at her ass, or whisper about her. "Ms. W is so hot," he'd groan, clutching his keyboard. "I LOVE her."
I always chuckled to myself. It was a stupid thing to do, lust after a teacher. Teachers, no matter how hot they were, weren't people. They were in the realm of adulthood, in an untouchable position of authority. The very idea was impossible. It was like a mouse falling in love with an elephant. Cute, but nobody takes it seriously. But to "A" it was all real - Ms. W was his first love, even if she didn't know it yet.
One day he leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Did you see that?" he whispered, breathlessly. "When she lean over to help me...her breast - it touch me!" "A" took it as a sign that Ms. W was deeply in love with him. Of course Ms. W had noticed his clumsy gawkings and gave him a wide berth when she could - it was most likely an accident. But there was no convincing "A". He set about writing a flowery love note in his broken English. It was a train wreck waiting to happen.
The next day I ran to computer class, not knowing what to expect. Would "A" be sitting outside, a sobbing wreck? Maybe he would be getting chewed out by Ms. W, the principal, and his parents.
"A" was waiting outside for us. "She has a fiancee," he explained.
"That sucks," I said. "Oh well, that's that then."
It was then that "A" said something that I will never forget.
"It doesn't matter," he said. "It mean NOTHING."
"What," I said, incredulous. "But she's engaged...that's like being married, almost."
"Where I come from," he said, "women have many boyfriend. Even engaged."
This simple determined statement blew my mind. The concept of marriage was so sacred, so concrete to me. To become engaged to someone was, to me at the time, the ultimate pinnacle of achievement. It was something you worked your whole life for - you found the perfect person, flawless in every way, and then it was happily ever after in your perfect home with your perfect family. The idea that an engagement was breakable was unthinkable.
But he had thought it, and he was determined to make it happen.
Suddenly it dawned on me. He was right. Well, perhaps what he wanted to do was _wrong_, but ultimately he was right. A person who has the faith, the drive in themselves to do the unthinkable can do it, and can MAKE it right. While breaking up an engagement is a horrible thing to do, if you can live with yourself for doing it, _fuck_ the other person. You're happy, they'll get over it.
But if she was willing to break up her engagement for you, maybe she's willing to break up your future engagement to run off with someone else. You know what? IT MEAN NOTHING. If you've got the drive, you _can_ be better than the other suitor. You can beat people off her for your whole life with an oar if you really want her and if you have the drive to keep it up. Maybe one person can be worth all that shit, all the stress and the fighting and the constant competition.
Maybe the best partners in the world are like that. Constantly being fought over by the best. It's like some crazy ultimate fighting tournament, and the prize is THEM. They're pretty, smart, funny, and give great head. Constantly in a state of flux, they hop around from champion to champion. The losers settle down with their silver medals...almost as good, but they can relax, nobody's going to steal them from them.
And would I ever consider doing the same? Honestly? I don't know. I don't know very many people worth keeping an eye on all the time for, worth stressing over when I'm not around. But man, if I met someone I wanted as badly as "A" wanted Ms. W, it just might be worth it.
I'll never know if you got your computer teacher, but I salute you, "A" for what you taught me about life, you crazy Iranian guy.
TUPAC LIVES!