The waiting game (step by step)

In less than forty minutes I'll take the first test of the semester. It's pretty early. I don't think I've ever had an exam this early before.

The truth is I haven't studied. Yesterday I told someone I had a bad case of senioritis: it's called "super-senioritis." Try to be motivated after five years of college, especially when graduation is in sight. It's right there on the calendar: May 2006. My English degree will come in the mail in June. Just think: I've spent about $15,000 and five years of my life to get a piece of paper that comes through the mail. On a certain level that doesn't seem right, but it's the way it is. Right now I'm finishing the wild ride, and when it ends I'll move on. In the meantime I'm not taking things too seriously, or doing much to stress myself. I have lots of time and I use it well. But mostly I want to use it for myself -- laying around, writing, reading, journaling, hanging out with friends -- than waste it on school work. The hard part of college is over. Now it's just a waiting game.

A lot of the people on Facebook are freshmen and sophomores. Their graduation dates are 2008 and 2009. Damn. It makes me feel kind of old. But it makes me happy in a way. Those people have so long to wait, so much to do, before they're where I am. It doesn't seem like it's been that long, but I've waited a long time. It doesn't seem like I've done that much, but I've done a lot. It seems like I'm looking at college like it's been nothing.

It's about five or six hours later now and I've taken my test. It was okay. There was stuff I didn't know, but I'm not afraid to guess. I like breezing through tests, not giving a shit if I get an answer right or wrong, then getting up before everyone else and turning it in. It makes me feel good. I know right away whether or not I know an answer. If I do, I answer it correctly; if I don't, I guess. One thing I never had to do a lot of was study. I'd see people bent over giant text books, highlighting every sentence, or reading and rereading their class notes. If I take notes in class I read them before a test, but that's it. I've never highlighted or made flashcards, or had others quiz me. I'm a sponge I guess. In class I sit, listening, and let my mind soak up all the knowledge coming at me. The English stuff is easy to remember. It's probably because I'm always like, "Holy shit! That's fucking amazing!" Books are awesome pieces of art. Sometimes I wonder if I'll be up to the challenge to write one. Everything means something. I love that. I love it when everything means something. I love meaning.

Speaking of art, an interesting performance piece was happening by the art building and on the IMU bridge before and after my test. When I left work I saw a guy laying squares of carpet samples on the sidewalk between the art buildings. There's always something interesting happening by the art building, so I didn't think anything of it. But when I walked back to work he was on the bridge, laying the carpet samples along the span. He was taking a walk, but he could only step on the squares of carpet. He had to walk the length of the carpet to the last square, pick it up, walk back, and lay it in front. To get anywhere he had to keep doing that. At the end of the bridge two people were taking pictures and filming him. I wanted to talk to him, see what he was up to, but he was talking to someone else as I walked past. Maybe I'll see him on my way home, laying his squares of carpet on the Pentacrest.

My big endeavor right now is deciding whether or not to beome a vegetarian. For years I toyed with the idea but never made it into reality. My friend Erin advised me, before I even start, to know exactly why I'm becoming a vegetarian. I didn't think I needed a reason; I just thought I could do it and not think anything of it. The truth is I feel guilty for eating animals killed by electrocution or being hit in the head with an iron mallet. I remember watching the news one night, seeing a story about a man caught on undercover surveillance cameras killing chickens by bashing them against the wall and jumping on them. It made me sick. I hate violence and cruelty, whether it's toward humans or animals. A lot of people think it's funny, and I don't know why. I guess that's why I want to quit eating meat: I don't want to support cruelty and violence by proxy. As long as I can eat bread, I'm cool with it (I think I can eat bread; I'll have to make sure, though). My survival is tied to bread, toasted or otherwise.

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