Come on, three more steps. One…two…ugh, almost tripped there. And three. Why are those steps so hard to climb anyways? Bulletin board full of useless “join us and become the ultimate stereotypical college student with perfect teeth and tons of friends” club flyers. Tried that once. Never again. My stomach still hasn’t quite recovered. Turn left. There it is. Class. Waltz in as though you didn’t trip over thin air about three point seven seconds ago. Claim your spot. Why is it that always happens? Everyone knows who sits where. Like that kid with the boating shoes, he sits in front of me. The guy with the unique snapback collection sits behind me. Do I know their names?
Do they know mine?
But one does not destroy the rhythm of “The Spot” concept. At least not without serious repercussions and evil glares. You pick your spot on the first day, and you warm it with your cramped restless body. Nothing more, nothing less. Well, unless you count actually passing the class.
The girl sitting next to me begins to stare as I dribble blogging thoughts into my cheap composition book. I think she’s judging me. And quite frankly, I don’t care.
I am blogger, watch me scribble.
Writers block is a real thing, you know. I could suffer from it at any time if I do not quickly write down good thoughts as they flow. It’s a lot like a menacing head cold. You can feel it in the air. It begins to penetrate your frontal lobe with a soft thud which metamorphasizes into a pounding slam through your whole cranium.
So go ahead. Stare. I am saving myself from insanity later. While you are at your apartment obsessing over your well manicured nails and social status, I shall be writing alone in my room…in front of my laptop…with a glass of tea…maybe water. Who needs friends, am I right?
*Holds up hand for virtual high five. Realizes the foolishness of the statement. Slowly lowers hand.*
What can I say, I am quite the rebel.
Besides, we all have our hobbies. Mine just so happens to involve writing without a grading incentive and spending time with my thoughts and trying to make them flow on paper/blog whatchamacallit.
The professor just asked a question. And of course, he looks at me. He knows I turn beet red when I have to speak in class. Quick, explain how mortgages affect the economy.
Whew. Good thing I actually paid attention to that segment in the video. Home free, baby.
More scribbling. Yes, this is good.
Wait. No. I just wrote down what the professor said. Rising interest rates and inflation aren’t exactly eye catching topics.
Forget it. I lost my train of thought. You win this time, economics.
What time does this class end, anyways?
Loads of Love,