Half of what I say is meaningless

the scene is thus: german discussion, 9:30 AM, york hall. teacher is describing the beat movement in 1960s germany. Is currently discussing music.

"...such as the Beatles. Is anyone a Beatles fan?"

I weigh my options. I could go non-conformist and not raise my hand. I could justify it to myself-- overrated, haven't listened to them for months, have a newfound approval for the current music scene, see no need to harp on the past. I decide against it. It would be unforgivably elitist not to raise my hand. I raise it.

Half a second later I realize that nobody in my line of vision has raised their hand with me. I look right, I look left, I look right again, twisting my head around for good measure. Nobody in the entire room has raised their hand besides me!

At first I was just mildly embarassed. The class went on and I didn't think about it too much. But now, sitting here considering it, I am completely dumbfounded. Who ARE these people?!!! EVERYONE likes the Beatles. They are VERY FEW people out there who do not like the Beatles! What the odds of 30 non-beatles-liking young college students ending up in the same classroom all at once? It's not that I care about their music taste, though I think it goes without saying that these kids are the rankest of philistines. I am more just baffled by the probability of such a phenomenon having occured. nobody? NOBODY?! So much for not looking like an elitist, eh? my goodness.

See them fashion a cap from a page of Camus

I was just reading a list of "5 Great Ways to Increase Hope" in, supposedly, The World's Best Bathroom Book (I can, however, vouch for the fact that it is not). Way #3 made me LOL a little bit:

"Drink hot cocoa or eat a banana. Chocolate cures most problems, and it's been said that bananas cure existential dread."

WHAT?! Who says that? I don't know, but I'm sure glad they did.

Josh, I hope you're listening.

Wow, that just happened.

So today in german we were talking about communication and she asked if any of us keeps a blog, so I said that yes, I do. And apparently I am the only one in the class who does, which was odd, but whatever. So there's this kid in the the corner and he's your typical socially-awkward-doesn't-speak-often-but-when-he-does-it's-always-something-weird types. And he's shaking his head in agony over there like he's really trying to hold back from saying something, and obviously he wants the teacher to call on him. So she humors him, and after a few seconds of acting like he doesn't want to say it, he's like "ok, I'm just gonna have to say this in english: I think all people who keep blogs are pretentious." A direct attack! I was floored, not by the fact that he thought it, because well, I mean I guess it's true, but more by the fact that he had the nerve to say it right in front of me. You can imagine the discomfort that took place during the next minute or so as he explained that all bloggers "think they know everything" and "whine about everything." It was mostly nervous laughter all around, while the teacher tried her best to smooth over the situation. After class I went up and asked her how to say "awkward" in german. It seems that i will be needing that word a lot next quarter.

back to school to prove to my father I'm not a fool

santee: how was the drive?

me: good. whitfield recited poetry, we played monopoly, and had a couple martinis. oh, and carne asada fries.

santee: ...on the drive?

me: yeah

santee: tight. which poems did he read?







douche.




in other news:
I'm worried
I'm always in love

True story. Minus the innevitable grammatical errors, of course.

German Professor: (hands back essay) Amanda ist perfekt!

me: uhhh danke?

her: Wie lange haben sie Deutsch studiert?

me: nur ein Jahre...

her: (actually seems suprised) Wirklich? Kennen Sie eine andere Sprache?

me: nein, nur Englisch.

her: ah, sie sind ein sprachegenius!

me: hehehhh... danke....(awkwarrrrrrd)


Also, die Moral der Geschichte ist:
ICH LIEBE MEINE DEUTSCHE KLASSE SEHHHHHHR VIEL.

So after the movie tonight I said something Josh didn't like and so he pulled the classic "Ok fine you can walk home then!" thing. So I imediately veered off in the direction of my home (a good five miles away, at least) as opposed to that of his car. I walked all the way across to the far corner of the parking lot without once looking back, and even made it to the intersection and pushed the crosswalk button. At this point I figured it would be safe to hazard a glance and looked behind me to find that the only people nearby were two shady characters parked in their car and observing me curiously. I had no other choice at this point than to cross the street. So I did, figuring that by the time I reached the other side, they would be waiting there for me or at least on their way. I cross. I wait. Nobody. I am on a street corner next to a freeway in Ontario. I am next to a gas station full of young men playing loud music. It is foggy, it is cold. Nobody is coming for me. So, I decide to walk back a ways and see what my caring friends are up to. I get close enough to spot them. They are standing casually next to the cars, seeming to be carrying on a perfectly normal conversation. I check my phone, and see that I have a missed call and a voicemail from Josh. Oh good, they must be worried about me. I listen to the voicemail. It says something to the effect of, "we are going to denny's meet us there in 15 minutes." Oh, very funny Josh. Very very funny. I am now determined to wait it out. I sneak along a little further and then turn another corner and sit on a low wall, watching, waiting for any sign of concern or worry. None whatsoever. I sit like this for a good five minutes, contantly looking over my shoulder for purse theifs and/or rapists and/or murderers. I take out my keys and hold them in my right hand just in case. I almost wish something horrible would happen to me, just to teach these bastards a lesson. After an eternity I see Santee's car pull away and drive off in the direction that I had first walked. Finally, I thought, they will begin to panic as soon as they realize I am nowhere to be found. Sure enough, a minute later my phone rings. it's Josh. he asks me what I'm doing. I answer, "Oh not much, just waiting to see how long my friends will let me wander in the cold dark night before they begin to worry about me." He laughs. He refuses to feel any remorse whatsoever. He asks me wher I am. I am tired of this, so I tell him. They drive back. I hide behind a tree for a second and that ends up being pretty fun, but basically I just give in and got in the car. Like I said, no remorse. No concern for my wellbeing whatsoever.

The moral of the story is that my friends don't care about me, and that makes me sad.

good times.