Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
- Learning how many group projects there will be in the semester, and if that number is greater than one, dropping the class.
- Learning how many hotties are in the class.
- Learning if one is expected to compete with trendy girls and dress really cute every time...or if one could get away with wearing hoodies undetected.
- Learning if the professor is funny or not.
- Learning where to sit so as to avoid any stinky classmates.
In short, the first day of class is for learning--not for socializing. The FDT, however, feels the opposite way and is completely insufferable. He talks to his classmates, especially if they are strangers. Introductions are key for the FDT: he will introduce himself to every person sitting in his vicinity. Picture, if you will, the Brady Bunch grid. The FDT is Alice, sitting in the center, and he will not rest until he knows the names of everyone in the surrounding desks (Marcia clockwise through Jan).
Try as he might, the FDT's doom is inevitable--his fame only lasts for that first day of class. Try as he might, the FDT just doesn't have the endurance to keep the coveted position of class clown. It's like he's trying to run a marathon with a sprinter's pace: you just can't start out with all your best material. The FDT uses it all up on the first day, only to get completely worn out by Day 3, which is when the Human Footnote will creep up from behind after pacing herself efficiently and claim the title of Loudest Classmate for her own.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
With this euphoria of new beginnings you enthusiastically greet someone you once knew marginally, but now know only through the info that shows up in facebook's newsfeed. After the questions that are supposed to sum up the years since you've seen each other, you casually resume your textbook hunt. But then, not one more book down your list, who should round the aisle but this relative stranger whom you so warmly greeted not one minute before. You both feign surprise at seeing each other again, as if everyone shops for their books like this guy does. Then you both ask one or two more obligatory questions with furrowed brows to make it seem like you've been burning to know the answer, but really you're just filling the dead air. Then, politely, you make sure to turn the opposite way you need to go just because it will mean you don't have to browse with an awkward silence breathing down your neck.
Going the opposite direction, you think you're safe from another increasingly bumbling conversation, but then your best friend you hardly know pops out behind the iClickers. You both insert some overdone jokes about Person A stalking Person B. Neither of you think they are funny. Both of you laugh. Then there's that awkward little pause where both of you are searching the peripheries for a polite escape:
"Ok, well I better look at staples now..."
"Yeah, staples are great..."
"See ya never--I mean later!"
Fed up with the pressure of trying to pull a friendship out of mid-air, you abandon the rest of your textbooks and just go to checkout. Within seconds you are enveloped in a maze of people snaking through the line, and who should you see? You guessed it. Now you've got to deal with a new conversation that has to be perfectly timed--too short and you'll have to just exhale loudly, too long and you'll have to shout about things you care nothing about while they snake in and out of view for the next half hour. Next year, you're buying on Amazon.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
BYU Hipsters? Yeah, they are all of this (except for that part where I talked about the cigarettes!) but worse: they want to seem like all they care about is Jack Kerouac and scarves and greasy bangs, but they've been on missions and go to church and take religion classes and are thus just pretending to not care about their lives and God and finding their eternal companions.
*Outside of The Bubble
**Anyone who looks/acts like this over the age of twenty-nine is pretty freaking sad. Anyone looking/acting like this under the age of twenty...well they still have the chance to grow out of it.
***Yes, sometimes certain girls are attracted to certain neck stubble.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Stop doodling and/or daydreaming. Listen. Do you hear that faint hissing that seems to be emitting pungent fumes of accuracy? Wait for the professor to ask another question. Now do you hear and feel that sweet correctness caressing the back of your neck? These full credit-deserving vibes of truth are coming from the Answer Whisper-er, who knows the right answer to every single question, even when the professor asks something weird and/or unclear and everyone is just sitting there in silence. However, the AW will never ever say this correct, potentially air-clearing and tension-relieving response any louder than a whisper--although he or she will occasionally raise his or her voice to the level of a mutter if someone is doing something loud, like coughing or digging loudly through a backpack or popping balloons.
While it may be flattering that he or she has chosen you to be the sole keeper of the secret of his or her brilliance, we are all experiencing real pain as we sit here, avoiding the stare of the professor who now knows that we didn't do the reading. We're college students; we feel enough sadness when we have to pay our utilities bills or when we see that the Skweez text is for Hot Dog King. Relieve us of this preventable misery and just say the answer, and please make sure to use your outside voice.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
And then the pretty, well-dressed b-word next to you curtly shakes her head "no" before passing the treat plate to you because she is a Party Pooper. Now what do you do? Taking the treat automatically contrasts you to her: on one hand, we have a girl who knows when to say when. A girl who possesses self-restraint. On the other, we have a girl with a weakness for Halloween cookies. A girl whose whole shopping list consists of those (delicious) circus animal cookies and Cheez-Its.
You sit there with the tray, frantically weighing the pros and cons, knowing that no one actually cares whether or not you take a cookie, but also knowing that this could be a turning point for you--the moment when you become a healthy person! One of those yoga-types, who never drinks soda and thinks dessert means granola...
But obviously you take a cookie; you really are hungry. But thanks to the Party Pooper, what was once a glimmering tender mercy now tastes an awful lot like shame.
Monday, September 20, 2010
However, Cecil occasionally likes to stick it to us and schedules upper-level classes in a totally random building. Finance majors get lost in the labyrinth of the JFSB, Physics majors walk all the way over to the Tanner, one time I had a lit class in the Talmage...it's all very uncomfortable.
One can always spot one of these Fish Out of Water because they will have constant looks of bewilderment and unbelonging. They will have grit-teeth-clenched-jaw, Inspector Gadget-when-he's-reading-a-telegram-eyes, and nervous-Andy-Samberg-eyebrows as thoughts like these race through their brains: "Maybe I should just drop this class and delay graduation a semester," "Where did all these members of the opposite sex come from?", and "Where are the %&*#ing bathrooms?" The FOW can also be identified if everyone he or she passes gives him or her the ole stink eye because they have all sniffed out the pariah whose brain is emitting fumes that reek of alternative education.