(This is a repost from my first blog, written in 2004. I’ve come down with yet another stomach bug and am composing in my head a post about Adult Diapers. Be pleased I’ve spared you.)
As I do every day that I ride Metra to school, today I walked past the music building on my way to my 9 a.m. class. And as I do every morning, I shake my fist at the careless music majors who pepper the lawn, smoking joints and unfiltered Camel after unfiltered Camel while enjoying such activities as football, Frisbee and what can only be basket weaving.
It kills me.
It really kills me that these people, who look much, much more interesting than the cretins in my classes get to ‘œrelax’ and ‘œhang out’ and generally ‘œenjoy life;’ fundamental things that we Nursing majors cannot remember ever doing.
I’m hoping sometime in the next year before I actually graduate (yes me, a college grad, who’d have though it possible?) that I might spend even *part* of an afternoon on campus enjoying myself. I carried with me the same lofty goal last year and alas, it was not close to being met. I think at most I may have *smiled* once, most likely when I saw the campus security guard jump out of a bush in front of the music building.
He was looking, no doubt for some fun-seeking music majors’ ‘œmarijuana cigarette’ and he had this look on his face like he thought that he might have found a clue to an urgent crime in the underbrush.
Damn all of them and their fun times and great memories (or lack of memories) of college. Forever stuck in my mind are the rectal suppositories and enemas, and of 6 hour classes and of feeling like a square peg trying to fit in a round hole. No co-ed frat parties or keggers for me, no I instead get pig and cell parties.
All of this from someone who has taken 6 years to get a BS degree.
I really need to cut down my caffeine intake on Thursdays.
Since I’ve gotten through a lot of NaBloWhatever, I’m going to keep going, despite my childish desire to screw it all. So, any burning blog post-y questions for me?