Print Edition: February 19, 2014
Sometimes you just need to skip
Five years at UFV with a degree under my belt and plenty of extra-curriculars dividing my time has taught me many things — among them, the art of “breaking routine.”
Thirteen weeks is not very long, but when most of my minutes are scheduled attending this meeting or that class, it’s only natural that sometimes I just want to hit the snooze button on the alarm, remain on my couch, or simply play hookie.
So why do I still get pangs of guilt when the 15-minute “it’s too late to walk in now” mark has passed on a class I should be in? Why do I still feel it necessary to apologize for missing class when it’s my grade and my money I’m giving up? And why is there still mandatory attendance in some classes?
I would like to think (and I desperately hope) we are all adult enough to manage ourselves and our time, and to make up for times we strategically slack off during the semester. So I’m sorry for missing class, but really it was for the benefit of my overstressed self.
Hate pop culture references? Too bad.
You know that annoying person who will make a reference to every fandom under the sun?
You probably know them as the one who randomly bursts into song at any opportunity, makes pop culture references and just grins until a person nearby catches it, and then takes pleasure in the groans and eye-rolling that follow. They’re the one you sometimes just want to smack.
But it takes effort — perhaps even a dash of creative genius — to come up with snappy references at the drop of a hat. The overuse of cliché can make you want to rip that person to shreds, but hey — the reference usage can add to the completion of a successful circle of life! Complete with singing giraffes and dancing monkeys.
You see, I am that person.
Not even a little bit sorry.
Take your freedom
I don’t want to learn to drive.
Maybe that’s surprising — driving has come to embody some grand ideas. Freedom, power, agility, competence, and the ability to get to work without much effort. Turn the key. Besides, it’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? It has become one of the first milestones on the road to adulthood. The license itself is your society membership card.
Some aspects of driving are appealing: the ability to just drive off and go camping, or head into Vancouver for the day. Or not needing to be so mindful of my travel plans. But when it comes to everyday life, I can’t justify squandering what little money I have on gas, insurance, maintenance, the actual testing process, and those little tree-shaped air fresheners to hang from the rear-view mirror.
I could say I’m trying to be environmentally sustainable, or rejecting the status quo. I could say people are right when they accuse me of being afraid to drive. The truth is, I just don’t care about it. I’m sorry it’s so difficult for some people to believe, but it doesn’t matter to me.
I don’t want to drive, and I’m not sorry about it.
I stole your pen
I’m not a kleptomaniac, and I don’t even have malicious intent.
I am an accidental pen thief.
Class is starting. I pull out my notebook, but wait — I have no pens. I’m frantically rooting through my bag when you, my nearly-anonymous seatmate, kindly tap my shoulder and hold out a writing utensil. Thank god for you, seatmate!
I have the best intentions of returning this pen at the end of the class, but I forget.
Oops.
Well, I’ll run into you by the end of the day right? Or maybe I’ll just catch you next class.
Or not.
The way I see it, borrowing your writing utensil is a way for me to step into your life for a moment — maybe even a couple of days.
I could walk for a mile in your shoes, but I’d much rather write for a mile with your pen. Knowing you prefer gel pens, or roller balls, or fountain tips, brings me that much closer to you.
But please know I’m not being malicious. I steal your pen with love. I’ll even give it back if you ask.
Maybe.
