Marcie (m)
Everyday in my Prose class we break up into groups of three or four, numbering off individually, and go over discussion questions from the previous night's reading. Procedure. Routine. That's what they call it. Today, I'm sitting in a number 2 position. I say "two" as the process passes me by. I'm proud to be a 2. I love being a 2. When you're a 1, everybody's aiming for you. When you're a 2, no one's paying attention. Bring on being a 2, I say. I'm curious to find out who will share the joy of being a 2 with me, so I look at the process as it finishes up. The next 2 is this guy named Jeff, but for our purposes we'll call him the CowardlyCoward. What a coward! The next 2 after him is the professor, a very intelligent and thorough person, but not one to be afraid of. She is open to honest responses, even if that response is "I haven't quite gotten that far in the text, yet" ***1***. When we all break up into groups, I walk towards my fellow 2 - the CowardlyCoward - and ask him if this is where we should sit. He says, "I'm not a 2." What? I saw his lips move and pronounce the word "two" only fifteen seconds prior. "But I saw you ... you're a 2," I mumble, desperately hoping that I'm not seeing things. "No," he says, a look of panic and indignation in his eyes. Fucker. He's scared of being in the group with the professor. The CowardlyCoward is a fucking pansy. "You're a 2." I know it. "You said 'two' just a second ago." He keeps to his original story. After the groups are settled, myself, another 2, and the professor look around the room and notice that there are three groups of four, one group of three (us), and one group of five. What a fucking weakass. The CowardlyCoward made things unsymetrical to say the least. Bastard.
Abruptly switching subjects ->
How many of you out there in the CyberVerse read message boards? I think that they are a necessary part of this indie/punk/whatever-rockworld that we all share because they do occasionally pass along valuable info about and from bands that we wouldn't otherwise hear until it was too late, but I can't believe how much I hate them. Weak minded little fuckers posting anything and everything on those damn boards, not caring who or what they hurt. I refuse to go to the Polyvinyl board ... its just a bunch of people bitching about Illinois and Midwest bands and how they've either (a) sold out (b) just plain suck ***2*** or (c) just general shittalking about people that they don't know/have never met/etc. Who are these fucking people? Why are they all so angry at these bands that are making decent music? These are questions that have plagued me ever since I got into this rock world, and I still haven't quite figured them out.
***1*** Which could mean any number of things from "I stopped just before that part" or "I haven't even fucking touched this book". She just doesn't care. Bullshit, and you're on her good side.
***2*** as someone said about StraightLeggedKick on said board last year.
Everyday in my Prose class we break up into groups of three or four, numbering off individually, and go over discussion questions from the previous night's reading. Procedure. Routine. That's what they call it. Today, I'm sitting in a number 2 position. I say "two" as the process passes me by. I'm proud to be a 2. I love being a 2. When you're a 1, everybody's aiming for you. When you're a 2, no one's paying attention. Bring on being a 2, I say. I'm curious to find out who will share the joy of being a 2 with me, so I look at the process as it finishes up. The next 2 is this guy named Jeff, but for our purposes we'll call him the CowardlyCoward. What a coward! The next 2 after him is the professor, a very intelligent and thorough person, but not one to be afraid of. She is open to honest responses, even if that response is "I haven't quite gotten that far in the text, yet" ***1***. When we all break up into groups, I walk towards my fellow 2 - the CowardlyCoward - and ask him if this is where we should sit. He says, "I'm not a 2." What? I saw his lips move and pronounce the word "two" only fifteen seconds prior. "But I saw you ... you're a 2," I mumble, desperately hoping that I'm not seeing things. "No," he says, a look of panic and indignation in his eyes. Fucker. He's scared of being in the group with the professor. The CowardlyCoward is a fucking pansy. "You're a 2." I know it. "You said 'two' just a second ago." He keeps to his original story. After the groups are settled, myself, another 2, and the professor look around the room and notice that there are three groups of four, one group of three (us), and one group of five. What a fucking weakass. The CowardlyCoward made things unsymetrical to say the least. Bastard.
Abruptly switching subjects ->
How many of you out there in the CyberVerse read message boards? I think that they are a necessary part of this indie/punk/whatever-rockworld that we all share because they do occasionally pass along valuable info about and from bands that we wouldn't otherwise hear until it was too late, but I can't believe how much I hate them. Weak minded little fuckers posting anything and everything on those damn boards, not caring who or what they hurt. I refuse to go to the Polyvinyl board ... its just a bunch of people bitching about Illinois and Midwest bands and how they've either (a) sold out (b) just plain suck ***2*** or (c) just general shittalking about people that they don't know/have never met/etc. Who are these fucking people? Why are they all so angry at these bands that are making decent music? These are questions that have plagued me ever since I got into this rock world, and I still haven't quite figured them out.
***1*** Which could mean any number of things from "I stopped just before that part" or "I haven't even fucking touched this book". She just doesn't care. Bullshit, and you're on her good side.
***2*** as someone said about StraightLeggedKick on said board last year.
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