It doesn't help that I started off with Anthropolgy class. Anthropology - the study of people across the world, doesn't it sound magical? That's what I thought last year when I was signing up for classes for this past winter and naive with excitment forged my way to my first Anthropology class. It was slightly ridiculous how excited I was, but it was for General Ed. credit and a 100 level class (the rest of my classes were 300 or above that semester; talk about a workload). It was going to be fun and easy and magical (I know I used that descriptor already, but that's how it was.) The syllabus...(duh, duh, duuuhhhhhhh)...was more intense then my 300 level English class that is advised to be taken by Juniors and Seniors! That very day, I left, like a kid who just found out Santa was not real and it was their parents who were hiding Guess Who? in their closet. Crushed and then excited to drop something that I could take another time and get a different teacher.
This would have been fine and good, but then the next semester to come up was this one, fall, the last semester before I graduate (December, YAY!). Here I am, with the same teacher, the same ridiculous syllabus (maybe I'm just stupid, but I thought your last semester was supposed to be fun (magical even, anyone?) Here I am taking a stupid 100 level class with stupid hecka long essays that could be identified as mini-thesis' for those who desire to go into Anthropology for life (don't do it, it's not as magical as course descriptors make it out to be). I've come to terms with this class, I'm doing it, I'm leaving in less than 3 months, life is good. I've now discovered what I hate more than the class, I hate the people in the class! These people are imbeciles! Sometimes I wonder how anyone this inane could have gotten into BYU in the first place (Yeah, I said it). There are the goody-two-shoes that are found in any class and are annoying, but you get used to it. What I really hate are the people who, like me, don't want to be there. The difference between me and them, I silently take it while I look online and check otherstuff in class. These people scoff and scorn and mock the teacher and make me want to stand up and slap them in the face, kick them in the teeth, ultimate punch them into the next life. 90% of the people in the class don't want to be there, we don't need to hear your lame comments, snorts or anything else that comes from you that in no way resembles silence. (I'm done.)
Okay, so there I was kindly switching my ipod (Jean-Bob; he is teeny-weeny) to a new song. I contiplated having him on shuffle, but I wanted to create my own music destiny as I walked from lame Anthropology (the people more than the class) to tiresome work. It was turning into a lovely afternoon, despite the weather becoming frigid causing me to wear two jackets. One of my favorite things in the entire world is to listen to my ipod and then imagine that I am currently experiencing one of those awesome movie moments where there is a sort of music video going on while the heroine is off to conquer the world, get the guy, or escape a fool and purge their own path. You can bet if you see me walking with those ear buds in I'm thinking about camera angles, lighting, how many outfits I'm going to be wearing, what my ultimate goal is and where I am. My moods change with the song, confidence or wariness overcomes and I have a wonderful time.
I was just switching my song to 4ever by The Veronicas and they start getting me pumped pulling me to a distant land when the atrosity happens. The chill in the air creeps into the bones and you realize not fall, but winter is upon us. Sure the leaves are changing, but it rains during fall not leaves ice on the windshields in the morning and burns your hands with cold while the sun pretends he's out and ready to do something. There are fake puddles all around campus. I call them mother fakers because if you see a centimeter deep of liquid you feel that you and your shoes can triumph that puddle and you forge through it. These "puddles" pretend to be fluid and waterlike; then in the split second before you put your foot on them they freeze forming booby traps that only Mr. Snow Miser could have the gall to put there and laugh as the unsuspecting victim takes the slip.
4ever, playing sweetly in my ear, ruined! There I was in front of the library and she slips, falls and undoubtedly is embarrased. Lucky for her I was the one who was closest to her to be the one to offer my sympathy and ask if she was okay. She said something that barely made it to my ears (earbuds, not a mumbler), "Yes, thanks." There I was gallently taking her arm and supporting her into the upright position using my hurt wrist. It may be hurting a little more, but I know it was for a good cause. Not to make a big deal about things, as soon as she was upright I walk away without a second glance, nursing my wrist.
I shall never see that poor victim again, but this goes out to her and to all of those others that have ever fallen due to Mr. Icicle or will ever be the unsuspecting recipient of his next prank. Mr. Ten Below, where ever you are, whatever you do, I will take you down (at least think about it because come on, I'm not living in Utah forever) OR I'll try to be there to help up those that fall to your power. Jerk!
