First day: last semester of university. 2010.
Professor of “film as literature” class:
“I have met basically all of the working directors in Europe. Oh, and in America.”
“I am visiting from Paris, did y’all know that? Yes, I have lived in Paris, France for 16 years.”
To the young man sitting next to me in the required “World Cultures” class on Latin America:
It’s not funny to draw a cactus wearing a sombrero saying “aNEEmull” instead of “animal,” like our professor did. It’s not funny to keep touching my leg and talking about how lame it is to take notes in required classes. It’s not funny that you’re “studying for your LSATs” instead of listening, or whatever.
To the young lady sitting two seats away from me in the required “World Cultures” class on Latin America:
You are too good for your boyfriend, who was sitting next to me. You forced laughter at his “jokes” a number of times: once when he was talking about my note-taking (four lines over an hour and a half, by the way) and once when he grabbed your hand and put it on his crotch and chortled and once when he loudly made fun of the way our (Venezuelan) professor said “economy”. You seemed like you weren’t happy about it. You definitely don’t love him. Also, he kept touching my leg and giggling, sort of. Homo alert? Try harder.
To the girl who I overheard saying just: “literally, no honestly, like, literally…” before fading away, fuck you.
Three more months in university; god rest my soul.
