Well that was just uncharacteristically wise and serious for one of my titles, wasn't it? Well if it helps, I'm thinking about it in terms of watching out for drunk drivers, mad men, and the British.
Once again I am faced with the problem of too little furniture. I have a large empty space in my apartment. On a scale of one to that old man on Family Guy, how creepy would it be if I had a lifesize model of the Chick-fil-a cow in my living room.
Also, I am very convinced that my apartment has a constant electrical current running throughout it. If I even wear shoes I will get shocked. And not that little "Oh-how-surprising-that-kind-of-tickled" Shock. I'm talking the debilitating kind of shock that takes you to the ground cursing Benjamin Franklin for being the asshole that discovered electricity. God forbid I EVER wear socks. It's getting ridiculous.
For one of my classes I have to start another blog. SO many ideas were rushing through my head when I heard this. Then he said he was giving us topics. 98% of my ideas crashed and burned. However, I have decided that I am going with the split personality plan. Hence, I will avidly pitch one side of beliefs in my blog, then, at class, I will adamantly oppose the position that I blogged for. My goal is to convince my professor he's insane by spring break. That'll teach him to censor me. I'll keep you updated.
Oh yeah, forgot to tell you that there was a shooting a couple blocks from my apartment the other night. That's pretty cool. I can't even tell you how this makes me feel, seeing as the only thing I've shot in the last year is whiskey, and I have the self defense qualities of an extremely neurotic mouse. In unrelated news, I now have a stock pile of enough mace to take down North Korea. Also, did you know that the cheapest Kevlar bulletproof vest is $190? Ridiculous.
Side Note: Three spice packets in one serving of Ramen noodles is far FAR to much. Just because you have extras doesn't mean you have to use them. Please excuse me, I have to go vomit.
One thing I've noticed in the past few days is the relation to a raised hand and a dying flower. Stick with me here. We've all been there. Scenario: The teacher asks a general question and a student (usually on the side or in the back) knows the answer so they raise their hand. The teacher pauses, waiting for someone to answer, but doesn't see the raised hand. The student keeps their hand up hoping the teacher will turn around again and see them. The teacher then usually asks "No one?" and pauses again, yet still doesn't see the raised hand. It is at this point that the student starts getting skittish, and their arm begins to wilt like a dying flower. As more time passes, usually only a couple more seconds, the hand lowers awkwardly, and while it was once rigid and sure, it is now lowered all the way in awkwardness, unsureness, and shame. Hey, you gave it your best shot. Next time try a flare.
You want to know how to get a straight white male to shut up and try to be invisible? Put him in a class that is 50% female, 60% black, and has a very opinionated gay guy in it, then start talking about equality. It legitimately felt like every person in that class was looking directly at me.
Last Tuesday was my first day of classes, and I came upon the usual problems of the first day. The first one being my choice of seats. Now you really have 2 options here: Get there early and sit in your choice seat and let other students fall where they may, or get there at the normal time and deal with the array of conflicts awaiting you. You can't sit in the front because they will either think you're a suck up or that you're smart and will know all the answers when asked. You can't sit in the back cause then you're a slacker and teachers will ask you questions to make sure you're listening or to make a point. There's usually a couple cute members of the opposite sex in the class, but it's the first day and you can't sit right next because that's creepy. You also want to avoid the really weird looking people, too (you know, bright green hair, forehead piercing, stuffed squirrel on their desk, etc). God forbid you sit in the back corner, then you're one of those weirdos. Make sure you avoid the inevitable set of friends too. They will never shut up, and unless you're dying to hear about who's a bitch, who won the fight, or where to get cheap new nail clippers for an hour and a half, avoid them like the plague. In most of those situations, you, the silent one, will get blamed for talking just as much as the actual culprits.
One of my teachers declared yesterday that he has set a personal goal for the class time this semester. What is it? To not stand up for the entire five months during our class time. This should be interesting, as we are already scheming against him to ruin it.
You know what also sucks? It is impossible to make friends in lecture classes. The farthest extent of friendship is the semi-awkward "Hey man, how's it going?" "Good, you?" "How was your weekend?" "Uneventful, yours?" "Mine was...." [Interrupted by lecture starting. An hour and a half goes by.] "Alright man, later." "Later."
My Physics class started Tuesday with 59 people. Today there were 31. We only went over the syllabus on the first day, and 28 people dropped. We were told there was a 30% drop/fail rate for this class, and my chances of being in that percentage just doubled. Awesome.
Life Before Google:
Person 1: "I just thought of something I would like to know more about."
Person 2: "That is a damn shame."
Shout out to Virginia Hirschey.
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