Vitamin C (tierfal) wrote,
Vitamin C

Why I Don't Want to Go Back to School

An elaborate and slightly brainless treatise by the one and only Tierfal.

There are a variety of reasons.  I will attempt to list them until the rest of my neurons frazzle at the ends, give off sparks, and light the rest of me on fire.  Which will likely be soon, so I'll try to type fast.

1. There is nowhere to hide.
Dorm living isn't too glitzy anywhere, but in my dorm, there really just isn't anywhere to go.  We have no lounge.  We have a co-ed bathroom with, what, four stalls and three working showers -- one of which is a handicap one with nothing but a curtain, which I eschew like the plague.  And we have... rooms.  Which we share with people.  If I was in a triple, I would have hung myself with my laptop cord, but as it is, I only have one person around which to negotiate to snatch moments of Alone Time.  This person happens to have only slightly more of a social life than I do, meaning that she is in our room sinful amounts of the time (instead of all the time like yours truly), and this makes life difficult.  It was hard enough last semester, when she was taking a billion classes, some of which might have had labs, and had eight AM ones every day except Friday, which meant that I didn't go completely insane every morning, only on Fridays.  My mornings dictate the rest of my day, and I have become far too accustomed to having them to myself, on my terms.  But back at school, there is nowhere to hide.  Nowhere.  To.  Hide.

2. I hate men.
Merely a whimsical song from "Kiss Me, Kate," you presume?  WRONG, my friend.  Very wrong.  Though, to be slightly more general and slightly more accurate, I hate pretty much everybody.  I am using "hate" liberally, becuse it has more of an impact than "mildly dislike and/or feel slightly uncomfortable around," but the point still pretty much stands.  There are a grand total of, I think, six people with whom I have exchanged names and regularly exchange greetings, which is, ah, about an eighth of the residents of the floor, probably.  And with some of those people, it's right back to the high school "Do I know you well enough to say 'hi', or would that just be awkward?  Am I cool enough to be someone you'll reply to, or will I look like even more of a loser for getting snubbed?  And what the hell is wrong with your hair, while I'm at the rhetorical question bit?"  In summary, I hate men and women both.  Everybody.  No exceptions.

3. Except That One Guy.
Despite the fact that it's useless, I won't name him, but I have no idea where I stand with him.  If anywhere.  Because I don't know how to flirt and have absolutely no experience with... anything.  Ever.  Just nothing.  Never even slow-danced.  Not even in middle school, when everyone's hormones were like loaded pistols pointing in random directions.  I was like Neo in The Matrix without even moving, and they all went around me, whooshing in my ears, except for the one that lodged itself in my brain and then proceeded to become a monumental pain in the ass, but I won't even go there.  We're okay now, that sharpshooter (or not) and I.  I think.  At least I get him more than I get That One Guy.  I've got all the symptoms, but I can't tell if it's reciprocal, and every time I turn around, he's either got a girlfriend, or one of my friends is mentioning off-handedly, having no possible concept of the should-be-awkward conversations TOG and I have in our co-ed bathroom, something stupid or strange that TOG has done.  TOG is an SOB.  Well, no, he's not, and that's part of the problem.  Stupid TOG.  Anyone remember pogs?  They were the shit, no kidding.

4. Homework is the Devil, only more concentrated.
I really, really, really, really hate homework.  As I was facepalming about an essay I was about to have to write last semester, my brilliant (valedictorian at her school, even!) roommate said, "Well, you're an English major, so you like writing essays, right?"  So I facepalmed a bit more heartily.  Because that is absolutely absurd.  Just because I'm an English major doesn't mean I'm not human.  In addition, last semester sucked, and this semester is going to blow, and I am going to die.  I will be buried in reading books, most of which I haven't yet bought, the purchasing of which will empty my wallet of everything, including flecks of dust and various ID cards.  They are that forceful.  And that numerous.  And I will have to read them.  All of them.  All of the money-stealing, fat-full-of-pages, asshole books I will have to buy.  And I hate them already.  And then there will be midterms, and papers, and finals, thousands of them.  Millions of them.  I will drown in words, and it will be very ironic, because they are my favorite things in the world.  Or they are when I get to dictate them, rather than when I have to rub my eyes through lectures full of them and memorize scads and scads of them for tests.

5. My house is better.
Not only can I, you know, retreat to a real bathroom, sit around on a couch, and indulge other unlikely luxuries like putting things in the refrigerator, I like my family a hell of a lot better than I like the other people in my dorm.

6. It's all just overrated.
I daresay this one speaks for itself.

So I have tonight, what of it there is left, tomorrow, which I will spend packing, and possibly part of Monday morning, depending on when we leave.

God damn it.

And Satan damn it, too, for good measure and equitability.

Now I will watch the Simpsons with my sister and be less emo by a considerable margin.

Uh, haven't edited this.  If it is incoherent and stupid, well... No, I'm always like that; no reason to blame it on editing or a lack thereof.
Tags: angst, rant
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