Thoughts from my boots.

One thing that I have enjoyed most throughly about college is all the alone-but-not-alone times. I am free to mosey about campus and the surrounding area as I wish, all by myself, but still be close to dozens of people, making me feel less alone. But I am mentally alone. I am free to make mental commentaries on the things I see, and formulate these blog posts in my head as I go about my day. The number of blog posts I think up and the number I actually post are severely different. I wish I was as devoted to posting as I have been in the past, but something in me has been lazy. Me sorry. 


But, as an homage to glorious blogging days, I am here in my favorite coffee shop, procrastinating, listening to my ultimate coffee shop song, drinking some Songbird Oolong tea, and soaking up the general atmosphere. I think if I were to choose one specific alone-time thing I cherish the most in college, it would definitely be the times I spent in coffee shops, bogged down by studies, but still feeling purposeful. There's nothing like the presence of hot drinks, other studying people, the smell of freshly ground coffee beans, or the general cozy atmosphere of table clusters in a low-lit area to warm the soul and intellect. 

And there's something delightful about spending time in an area where most of the population is within a few years of your own age. I can't think of another time in life where this sort of population density will be so profound. The college camaraderie is only available for a short period of time in everyone's life, and I am glad for all those who can experience it, for at least a little while. You don't feel alone in your
academic suffering, because when you glance around you, there's another guy with the same burden of finals resting his shoulders. It is somehow comforting to be in the same boat as basically everyone around you. It's a sophisticated form of survival mode.


Anyways: thoughts from my boots.


I have been tromping through the snow/slush/gross for the past couple of weeks, thinking many things, and I thought I would share some observations from my campus travels/classroom experiences that may distract you for a while as you do your own study-like-a-maniac thing.


Here are three silly things that happened as of late:






I. How to Insult an Inanimate Object:

I rode the 50 bus tonight across the Washington Ave. Bridge to get over to the coffee shop tonight. And in doing so, I noticed an obnoxious thing.


There was a girl sitting across from me with a Best Buy bag, and a giant cardboard box. And, according to the labels all over the box, it contained the Rock Master Peavey Acoustic Guitar Kit.


Now, I don't know about you, but I think it is most insulting for any instrument to be put in a cardboard box with tacky graphics which try and convince you that this will make you a rockstar. It just makes me sick. I always gag a little when I see instruments being sold in electronics stores. Sure, they're electric items usually, but it's like an insult to the instruments and music. 


Am I crazy to think that? Does this make any logical sense?


I just feel like enough things are marketed like that, and it just cheapens the whole deal. Sure, I understand the concept of a cheap, beginner guitar. But please...don't chuck it in a cardboard box and declare it the cure-all for your rockstar-less lifestyle. Let's be realistic here.




II. Crying over Pooh.

I was sitting in my all-to-exciting film lecture hall, waiting for class to begin the other day, and overheard one of the silliest little conversations. The two guys who sit behind me are generally slightly annoying in their film nerdyness, and have a tendency to talk a lil' too loud for my liking most days. But they seem like decent fellows.


Anyways, so I'm sitting there any enjoying my orange juice, and minding my own business, when I hear the exceptionally chatty one recount his encounter with Winnie the Pooh in a recent quiz. He was supposed to read a little passage able how Christopher Robin and Pooh are up on a ridge and talking about how they will be best friends forever, or something. And he admitted that after he read this passage, which he was supposed to analyze in some way for this quiz, he had to just stop and try to keep from tearing up over it. "It was like I went into a fog, and I was completely useless after reading that."


Softy.




III. The near-end of French: Going out with a...bang.

I am one exam away from being done with learning French FOREVER. And don't get me wrong, it's fun knowing another language. The classes just suck.


Anyways, so I had my last chapter final yesterday evening. It was difficult, per usual, but I think I pulled a pretty good grade out of it. We were all situated in our rolling plastic desk-chairs, scribbling away in the dead silence of the classroom. As usual, I was one of the first people to finish my exam. But I hate being the first person at actually give it to the teacher and leave. And so I sat there, check and re-checking my work, waiting for someone else to stand up. 


And as I wait, a thing happened.


Someone farted on the other side of the room. A perfect whoosh of a fart, which was, of course, amplified by the unforgiving plastic chair in the dead, dead silence. 


And, ohhhh, it was all I could do to hold in my laughter. I remember thinking that, what if it had been me who farted? I'd feel awfully embarrassed if people began to laugh. And so I thought of as many morbid things as I possibly could to distract my mind from the terrible silliness that could ensue.


And I was doing pretty good, until I foolishly glanced over at my friend Jacque.


Who was glancing at me.


And that was not a good thing.


Both of us audibly began to stifle giggles, and it was all I could  do to completely keep myself from losing it. I thought of some of the most morbid things I possibly could, stood up, quickly shoved my things into my backpack, and strutted up to the front of the classroom to hand my test in. It didn't matter if I was first. I had chosen the lesser of two evils.


The professor looked at me, asked if I was for sure confident with my answers, and I hastily told her I'd checked it about four times, which was true. I exhaled a quick and sincere 'Merci,' and fled the room. 


Out in the hall, I walked a ways away from the classroom door, plunked myself down on the floor next to a Minnesota Daily, grabbed it, and quickly shoved my head into the Overhead at the U of M section, and let loose a string of giggles. As I sat there, another girl came out of the classroom.She had been sitting in the general region of the fart, and was one of the two people I suspected of emitting it.


We made brief eye contact, exchanged an awkward chuckle, and she quickly left, slightly red in the face.


Jacque eventually came out, and completely lost it. We stumbled to the bathroom, nearly falling over with laughter, and both admitted that this was the best possible way to end two stupid years of French classes.


And if for some reason this is pathetically immature to you, think for a second. Think of the irony of this situation. Put yourself in our shoes.


It would be funny.


Believe me.








Well, I have used up nearly an hour on this blog post/dinging around doing other things/just plain not studying.


So I should probably go do that.


Audios.




Songs for Coffee Shops:


Cosmic Love (Short Club Remix) by Florence + The Machine


Futile Devices by Sufjan Stevens


Prayer by Rufus Cappadocia


Half Asleep by School of Seven Bells 




and, for the really sappy folks out there, since this song seems to sneak into the speaker systems of many places I have studied:


Falling in Love in a Coffee Shop  by Landon Pigg