Preface
Life is an interval of time. It begins with birth, and ends with death.
We, as humans, are only capable of altering the present and future within time we are alive. Few people leave lasting impressions upon the world. Jesus Christ, Beethoven, Debussy, Dostoevsky, Homer, Napoleon, and Hitler are a few names that come to mind when thinking of that category.
Hell, maybe throw J.K. Rowling in there, too. Maybe Harry Potter will still be around in 4000 A.D.
The point is: we only have one life. We get one chance to impact the world. When we die, it's game over. Our interval has expired, and the rest of life on earth continues without us.
Time doesn't stop. Or so I thought until I met Zyzychyn.
Chapter 1: Finals
Oh joy, it's finals week. The one week where not only do students sleep in, they have to study and take tests, too.
Finals in the past have been a breeze for me. Then again, every semester before this one, my first semester of my senior year, I've been enrolled in at least one class that started at 8am.
But when it's your senior year of college, and you don't want to have to wake your ass up at the break of dawn just to drag your ass to gain learning, you opt for the classes that start later in the morning. The latest I could manage this semester was 10am.
Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of this semester I have been silent in the course of American Literature. I hate speaking in the class because I hate every aspect of it. I hate the required readings, I hate the professor, and I loathe the other students in the class (especially the really tall guy that sits behind me with his knees constantly in the back of my chair).
However, if there is one thing I hate about some classes more than others, it's the syllabuses. Aspects of grading and attendance are a requirement of every syllabus, but the aspect I hate the most is the "class participation" part of grading.
Since when the fuck does another human being have the right to judge whether I participate in class or not? Just because I don't like to raise my hand and have heads turn at me and eyes glaring, staring into my skull, doesn't mean that I don't do the readings and doesn't mean that I don't have opinions.
Shit, I went on a tangent there, sorry. Back to finals.
I recently discovered the amazingness of downloading torrents to be able to gain new movies for which I normally would not even bother paying a dollar at a redbox. Most of the movies suck, but there are some good ones.
Last night I was faced with a dilemma. Either stay up until 1am watching a movie while half-studying, or go to bed early to be able to be nice and refreshed for my 8am final the next morning.
There are many words, both good and bad, that describe me well. The one that comes to mind when faced with this decision is: lazy.
I ended up watching "Hellboy," which wasn't all that good. But I wanted to download the second movie, so I naturally had to watch the first one.
With a few distractions from websites and my sister, I ended up finishing the movie at 1:20am.
All throughout the night I tossed and turned in my bed. For some reason, nothing was able to calm down the nerves of my American Lit final. I tried listening to calming music, but that didn't work. Eventually I just closed my eyes and thought of being surrounded by a bunch of naked men in leather. Just kidding.
Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot to mention that I'm gay. But we'll get to more of that later.
I finally dragged my ass out of bed at 7am, and did my morning shower routine.
I got dressed in comfy clothes so as not to be distracted during my test, went upstairs, made coffee, got a Poptart, and started studying again.
Finally, 7:45am was upon me, so I gathered my books, and headed to class at Jordan Hall.
As a Senior, I am afforded the opportunity to live off-campus. At most universities, students receive this privilege when they are sophomores or juniors. But at Butler University, they placed a new policy forcing even junior to have to live in their overpriced dorms, disguised by the university as the "Apartment Village."
My walk to class isn't far, hell, it's as far as it was living in my dorm/"apartment" last year.
I was nervous for the test, but luckily had Debussy streaming through my earbuds to help me stay relaxed. Upon the walk, I wished that teachers would allow students to listen to music during tests. It helps the brain to function, in my opinion.
When I was approaching the entrance-way to the classroom, it suddenly dawned upon me that I had no idea where the final was to be taken. In classes previous, we have had class in one room, and forced to take the final in a different room.
I stood in front of the door to my classroom, locked and full of darkness. I swore to myself as my mind flew circles around the rings of possibilities for which cause of action I should next pursue.
Finally, I decided to double-check what I wrote down on the study guide.
FUCK. The final was at 1pm, not 8am.
I laughed at myself for being such a tool, and walked back to my house, glad to be given more time to study or sleep.
