I’m going to be brutally honest. The students in my school’s visual arts department are flippin’ WEIRD.
Either that, or I was just particularly irritable today.
I was already peeved when I walked into class. Partially because when I was getting stuff from my locker, I overheard a girl a few lockers away telling her friend how amazing a particular animation professor is. I resisted the urge to interject, “Yeah well, [insert name of professor here] is a dumb b****.” Bitter much? MENSTRUAL much? But I wanted to punch that girl in the face for being in love with and dressing just like the professor in question. She’s like Dumb Animation Professor in training.
So when I opened the door to my classroom, I noticed there was a very weird girl directly behind me. Directly. All up in my grill. She then proceeded to tailgate me across the empty classroom and sit down next to me. She could have picked any easel in the entire room, but she wanted the one right next to mine.
Not a minute later, as I’m sitting there in a huff, starting to send Ben a very angsty text message, a voice behind me goes, “ummmm….”
Standing there awkwardly is a very special lad, kind of a big guy, hardcore glasses, greasy-looking shirt, and the beginnings of a moustache he must not know how to shave. Actually, he reminds me of Milton from “Officespace”. He’s breathing heavily, saying, “Ummm, that’s sort of my usual spot. You’re in my spot.”
“You want me to move?” I said indignantly. “Is it really that important?”
“Yessssss….”
“Fine.”
If I weren’t just a really peevish softy, I would have told him to f*** off, since that easel didn’t have his name on it.
But I figured I’d rather move and be pissed than send the guy into a panic attack, so I picked up my stuff and moved to the other side of the class.
At that point, several more people had come in, and yet another special girl plopped down her bags next to me. “Where’s the cool easel?” She said, looking around. “It has all this writing on it. I want that one.” Meanwhile, other people were shuffling easels and chairs and fighting over spots. One guy loudly proclaimed, “well, it’s the midterm, so you might as well get the best spot you can.”
Whatever, guys. I was just glad we could do our midterm drawing and then leave, instead of staying for the entire six-hour class.
When the professor started class, someone asked him if we would be able to leave after we finished our drawings. He looked surprised. “No, we have class! We’ll be here until 9:30.”
My cramps suddenly worsened. I took out my pencils and bristol paper, wanting to cry for some reason. Why didn’t I switch to Bio LAST semester?
Then the weird girl next to me, the one with the special easel with writing on it, stopped scribbling badly with her excessively squeaky charcoal stick and looked at me.
“What’s that big mark on your head? Are you okay?”*
What a magical day it’s been.
*See previous post
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