Here are random comments I wrote while sitting in class this last week:

Monday:

I couldn’t find a parking spot, so I wound up fifteen minutes late, and I walk into this and they’re deep in an intellectual discussion on–Mick Jagger.  I suspect this has something to do with philsoophy of art, but I’m not sure.  And if I think too much about philosophy of art, I will be taken back to sophomore year at CCC–Vince Lisella, Dave Higgins and John Marmysz teaching triple, talking about velvet Elvis and Dave Higgins’ college roommate, who wore foil on his head to block out alien radio transmissions and was later diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic.  And Pink Fingernail Lady, who wore bright pink fingernails and turned every class discussion into a listing of her personal emotional troubles.  Ben, who amassed 171 credits(only 120 needed for a bachelor’s) before he dropped out to become a ski instructor, hated her until he saw one of her glass creations, and then insisted she was that pinnacle of creation, a True Artist.  And Suzette, who’s husband died in Afghanistan, and Jason, who I still see occasionally.

It was only six years ago, but it feels like a lifetime.

I had not really intended to be here.  I truly thought I would have fallen in love and married by now, or at least fallen in love, and it never occurred to me that I would be incapable of having a relationship that lasted longer than three weeks.  Or that no one would ever really be interested in me.  I still find this amazing.  I’m smart, educated, have a good job, and am not entirely unattractive, and yet no one looks twice.  And my younger sister can actually meet someone and fall in love and get married.

Did I tell you we’re studying “The Taming Of The Shrew”?  I rather like Kate.  I think I shall be a shrew.

 

Tuesday:

Sitting in class, pretending to pay attention wile the professor blathers on about independent variables in psychology.  I am beginning to think the class is going to get an experiment in the psychology of suicide pretty soon if this rapidly doesn’t become more interesting.

I forgot one of my quizzes that was due today.  I know exactly where it is–in my car–which is sitting in my driveway because the brakes are bad.  I’m driving my father’s garguantan Chevy Silverado, which is a mammoth truck, and it has everything from XM radio to it’s own phone number.  There is no actual phone in it; the voice comes through the radio speakers and somehow is received through something in the winshiled.  Why someone thought this was I good idea, I don’t know.

Further, I can’t imagine why I am missing Tuesday’s “American Idol” so I can attend this class.  The prof keeps saying “phenomenon” and all I can think of is that horrid diet cherry vanilla whatever soda it was commercial.  Nasty, nasty stuff.

What is the point of neckties? Who first said, “Oh, I think I’ll take brightly colored strips of cloth and tie it around my throat,” and why did he think that?

I found out I’ve only “conditionally” been accepted into EC, because my transcripts from Davidson haven’t shown up yet, and those theater classes are counting towards my certification.  Sigh…no matter how far away I get, it’s always those damn theater classes at Davidson holding me back.

I knew I should have gone to Wake Forest.