All is right in the world when you wake up at 6:30 a.m., sit through a committee meeting until 9, and then trudge straight back to bed for two hours. And later, your writing class spends a half hour discussing how stories should be submitted; electronically or physically. One girl couldn’t handle the stress and walked out.
Truth: In all my years of schooling, I’ve only been in two classes that had walkouts: Creative writing in high school, and now advanced fiction writing. Writers are touchy people.
Things continue to be wonderful when the awesome German teacher wins Jeopardy, and when you and your trivia-obsessed buddies decided to forgo leftovers in favor of a better dinner in the Student Center. Then, at your work safety training meeting, you laugh until you’re wheezing on the floor after the trainer says the following: “Too many people try to sneak free pump coffee refills. Next time I see this happening, I’m going to be all: ‘I will cut you!'”
Volleyball doesn’t go so well. One of your teammates is struck down by a charley horse, which you know hurts like the dickens because it happens to you decently often. Your team loses to a team that you probably could have beaten, but you don’t feel too horrible because afterall 5-1 isn’t a bad record. And because you knew the moment you were all lined up on the court that you were probably going to lose because your team just wasn’t playing like they usually do.
After the game, silently ashamed of being a living breathing cliché, you say you don’t care about the loss, but you regardless spend fifteen minutes in the snow talking about what exactly went wrong. And then you skip off to the Convenience Store, where friends are buying ice cream and you’re just looking for an excuse to avoid reading your book of nature-heavy poetry.
And then you come home and read it anyway.