I haven't written here in a while for good reason. At first, it was mainly because people were having positive experiences in college and I was looking for some of my own to add to happy lala rainbowland here until julie inspired me. Yea, fuck this, it's crappy blow me land and if i wait until i enjoy life for what it is, then chances are you'll never see a word from me on this blog.
I practice hardcore lonerism every day of the week besides Wednesdays when I'm blessed with the presence of the great Markelov himself, and Fridays when I don't have school. Being alone isn't something that's terrifying or new to me, and I actually do prefer it over the effort of being social with morons I'd rather not associate with. It's not that I have a hard time making friends, it's just that I choose not to. I'm in community college. Chances are that after this semester, I'll never see you again, so if you can't benefit me in anyway, then I see no point in the effort. The people I do talk to in class are nothing more than friendly acquaintances bonded together through circumstance. Nothing bonds people together more than confusion. Or hatred towards the same person. Like perhaps the teacher.
My only complaint of being solo during my journey through school is the hassle of fending off losers with one hand and carrying my books with the other. Unfortunately, I am what you call a loser magnet. Much to my chagrin, I am not capable of attracting anyone other than that of the short and scrawny nonenglish speakers of Asian origin. The rare few that don't fall under that category happen to be either girls or creepy white boys with personality disorders.
On with my rant with the rather distasteful and disappointing selection of boys at my school. City is overloaded with fobs. It's like I'm in China all over again, minus the good food, cheap goods, and occasionally attractive boy not wearing those ridiculously thick plastic-framed glasses that mislead people to believe that there is something worth looking at beneath them. Perhaps I'm being harsh but I'm in one of those darkly humorous negative moods that make my writing all the more entertaining. Avert your eyes if you find me offending. I'm going to generalize here and focus on the Asian population of my school. The average height of a boy is either 1+ inches shorter than me, or at most 1 inch taller. I am 5'3. That cancels out every candidate at my school for a future boyfriend because I like my heels and refuse to dominate in height rather than the relationship in itself, though I have a sneaking suspicion that I'd wear the pants in any relationship I may have with an Asian boy. If there is a God, he'll send me a freakishly tall Chinese boy from Europe having a mental capacity larger than his dick and capable of using his brain for purposes other than playing video games. Or at least a really hot Asian lesbian that looks like a girl attracted to me that will make life interesting and hopefully save me from the boys that think they have a chance.
Here's a story.
I have geology class in the basement of the science building on Wednesdays from 6:30pm-9:30pm. It's a class I would truly enjoy if it weren't for one little thing.
One day after class, as I was walking the hall of the dim desolate basement wondering if my dad had come yet, I heard the sudden echo of footsteps behind me. I figured, that perhaps we just happen to be going the same way, after all, there aren't many exits to choose from down there. Unable to to determine the proximity of the distance between me and the unknown figure, I decided that regardless of circumstances, I would hurry because I am a mildly paranoid person with good reason. A couple weeks ago, a failed attempt of rape happened at night on campus, and I wasn't taking chances. I quickened my pace, and to my horror, the person behind started running. After ME. Sadly, in my moment of possible danger, my thought process was a bit screwy. I visually contemplated what I had with me to protect myself with, and the best instrument of pain I could come up with was my geology book-- which was a soft cover book worth a hundred dollars in value. What if I damaged it in the process? There's no way I can sell it back to the bookstore in that kind of condition. Worse. What if I lost it? I GET TESTED EVERY WEEK I CAN'T AFFORD TO LOSE IT!! It'd take at least two weeks for another one to arrive if I bought it online. I just couldn't make that kind of a sacrifice. I figured if he was bigger than me, with a substantial element of surprise, I would be able to take him. So I stopped and turned around to face the stalker. And it was the little fob boy that sat at the opposite end of the lab table from me in class. He stopped, breathless from his chase, and smiled at me. I looked at him wearily and did the only thing I could do. I said hello.
CC: hello.
creepy stalker boy: hi!
CC: yes?
creepy stalker boy: Are you Chinese?
ok. what. the. fuck. are you serious? I didn't know any better and answered his question. Yes. Then he proceeded to ask me if I spoke Chinese. Which of course I answered yes because I'm proud to be bilingual. And then. He asked me if I spoke Cantonese. You should have seen his eyes light up when I made the mistake of answering honestly. I mistook that gleam of excitement for hope that I would help him clarify the things we went over in class today. I was wrong. He wanted nothing from me regarding classwork. Ended up he wanted to know me.
You do not chase a girl after class at night in a basement to get to know her. Did I mention he giggled from nervousness? If you have the balls to chase a girl down for her name and ethnicity, you hold your act and don't giggle like a little girl.
The following week, he migrated from his end of the table to mine, grinned at me and parked his tiny ass next to my seat. It became apparent that he wanted to initiate a friendship first and then progress to a relationship. I did what I could do to avoid talking to him, literally fleeing out the back door when class ended. Deciding this couldn't continue, I started putting my personal belongings on the chair next to me, spreading my papers around me like a defensive barrier and adopting a busy and indifferent attitude, discouraging him from talking to me. When I tired of my routine, I would relocate to another table, certain he didn't have the galls to follow.
My therapist reprimands me and says that my misfortunes are self inflicted-- that I initiate connection when I smile and be nice to the socially awkward indie boys that don't have friends of the opposite sex. He says there is a reason why they don't have girlfriends. He laughs at the boldness and brash stupidity they display in presence. He claims that the only way I'll be happy is if I find myself a normal white man. He also thinks I should drink and party and try new things, like pot. My therapist's name is Aleks by the way. He's not a professional. As you can see.
My only option left is to deny my Chinese heritage and my ability to speak another language as long as I attend this school .
So how do I try to avoid these happenings when I don't have Aleks to keep them at bay? I go to the library and hide behind the cubicles lined up in the 'quiet zone.' Unfortunately, the ghettoist kids camp out right next to the library in packs, terrorizing the nerdy children [such as myself] who seek refuge in the sanctuary. You know that saying, 'it's always darkest before dawn?' Well, it's being taken literally. I have to walk past swarms of black kids before I can get to my final destination.
Ironically enough, though my school has a mostly Asian population, there are virtually none in most of my classes. For the first time, I am a minority. The little Chinese girl amongst the white people. I've been told stories about people being surrounded by dumbasses in college. I happen to be surrounded by extremely talkative intellectuals, eager to show the class what potential they have by using big words and answering questions with oral essays of their steadfast opinions. Answers can draw out from five minutes to fifteen, depending on the girl speaking.
Conciseness is underrated.
Although the change of speech is somewhat refreshing, by that I mean the generous use of expansive vocabulary contributed from each participating individual, the content of which is spewed out [not unlike sewage from a backed up drain] is rather mundane and unbearably liberal in a bad way, especially when coming from the mouths of the narrow minded radical feminists that tend to populate my classes. Sitting in the back, I struggle to maintain a mild composure and keep my comments to myself for my personal safety and comfort, sitting on my hands to keep from raising in participation. Occasionally my eyebrow will raise in disagreement or disgust but it goes unnoticed as I look away when this happens. I have a reoccurring fantasy that one day during class, I will finally snap and say something completely controversial with a well supported argument, which will cause my fellow peers to scream with rage and do a variation of Rumpelstiltskin's act that will lead to their demise. For those who don't know the story of Rumpelstiltskin, he stamped his foot so hard on the earth that it opened a crevice and swallowed him up.
Classes and work take up my life. With impending deadlines and what little time I have left when I come home from after school, I do what any other person under my circumstances would do.
I turn on my laptop and do things unrelated to schoolwork.
Peace.
p.s.
Dear Julie.
Your posts always opt for an interesting read. I love your biting humor and blunt forwardness. I can only hope to achieve your talent of writing. Through the recordings of our miserable lives posted on this blog, have you realized we can both be extremely entertaining?
