To my great displeasure i awoke this morning, a tad late..approximately 8.27-ish. i mustered out of bed for my ever impending favorite 9am class...the infamous Gender in America...people seriously probably think its the only class i take..because it seems like its the one im ALWAYS going to that anything remotely exciting about my life happens haha mlia. So yea, i woke up, unwillingly, and selected my ensemble of the day..(my favorite urban outfitter jeans, black lycra top, my microscopic size two ugg(ie)s, and my smashing new black and white tweed vintage-inspired swing coat). i looked good. After a weekend full of over-indulgence at the mall, i felt the need to actually try...little did i know that all of my mindless effort was...well ... pathetically insignificant.
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After primping for the all the faceless peers that i share the one stimulating hour of GIA with[¹], i jet out of The Cave[²] around, say, 8.50-ish. Bad decision on my part. For any normally proportioned student, the ten-minute-to-get-to-class gray period would be more than enough time to arrive to class on time with maybe even an ounce of leeway to enjoy the walk...but no. Between the fact that i live on the polar opposite side of campus from every single one of my classes, to the plain and simple fact that i'm 4'10"; walking to class isn't just a leisurely stroll, it's a job. So there i am, briskly walking (if you could even call it that....more like speed walking like the cheesy moms in 80s swishy pants and fanny packs do...workin their arms and swinging their hips as if it was going out of style) to class, jetting out of the Cave [see ²] way past my standard departure time. On any typical day that i have a 9am, i usually leave the nest 20 minutes before class...yea i know. damned be the God that gave me 3 foot stumps for legs.
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So i'm going at pace of just about sprinting, my swing coat flapping in my wake, hair blowing, arms pumping, boots scuffing against the brick walk way, making me almost trip...yet again. It's 9am on the dot when i walk into Anderson. I curse at myself for leaving so late. One thing that you should know, i absolutely HATE being late for important things, if it's a party, social gathering...a salon [³] if you will, then thats a completely different story...but class i consider important.
It's 9am, i'm pissed. I hate that feeling of failure as you stroll into class after it's already started and the entire room stares at you as if your some stigma to the entire institution of higher education. fml. Problem is, it's now 9.02 and i'm still on the ground floor. My class is room 306 ... aka i have to sprint up 3 flights of stairs, but only after having to dig out my I.d. to verify my enrollment to the school of course...can't have no psychopath 19 year old posing as a student with alternative plans to shoot up the building...just sayin.
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I sprint up the stairs, at this point i broke a sweat 10 minutes prior. i but through the 3rd level stairwell door and race to my class, making sure to slow my pace and walk in as if its nbd. Yea i know, so classy haha. i reach my classroom only to find it DESERTED. im puzzled. i even enter the room thinking that maybe by crossing the threshold Kendal R, my masters degree in training Professor, aka doesn't know what the hell she's doing, would magically appear. didn't work. i go in examine the 40 or so chairs with a bad taste in my mouth. how dare they. on the board in chicken scratch is my death sentence..which on any given day would make me rejoice. "Class canceled, she emailed. All Gender Soc. classes" You've GOT to be shitting me. I stare in disbelief at the simple message. Reality sets in. I'm actually quite pleased. But then slowly, as i walk out of Anderson 5 minutes later, i begin to resent my mental complex of even trying to look good for a majority of people i dont even know. All because i bought new clothes. God hates me. All in all it wasnt the fact that class was canceled, that was stupendous. it was the simple fact that after getting all cute and racing to class panic-stricken for being tardy, it was all for nothing. a big fat goose egg. kill me.
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Its now 9.07 and i'm walking, my back towards Anderson. I'm moving at the pace of Gary from Spongebob [⁴]...love that show. As i reach the crosswalk, my day takes a turn for the better, as i strut my cute outfit across the street, i end up running into my new adorable friend J. he approvingly smiles and gives me the once over. my pathetic failure to check my email was totally worth it. So from now on i've vowed to take in the consideration of the words from an almighty classic ... Coco Chanel, the bitch really knew her shit haha:
“I don’t understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little - if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that’s the day she has a date with destiny."
Amen to that sister friend, Amen.
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[¹] - a mental complex i've formulated over the years. its perverse and incomprehensible i know.
[²] - The Cave: also known as room 422b is D and I's current home away from home, ive mentioned it before, but for those who don't know, in the words of my suite-mate M's boyfriend... if the cave were to fight your room, it'd beat, rape, and impregnate your room, and then refuse to pay child support. yea..took it to THAT level of BA.
[³] - a Salon : A periodic gathering of people of social or intellectual distinction.
[⁴] - insert "Meow" here.
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