The (Half) Life and Death of a Freshman

Part I: <Groooaaann>

"I'm sorry."

I learned to use those words a lot last night. They are delivered best when one is slightly (or completely) embarassed by one's performance in a particular activity. The particular activity, in my case, was swing dancing.

Yesterday was the first day of classes at UF, and the honors organization here at UF sends out a list of things to do around campus on a daily basis. The list reported yesterday of many things, but the one that caught my eye was one that I should have completely ignored the moment I laid eyes on it. Of course, me being the fool that I am, I decided that it would be an extremely fun activity.

"Just think," I thought, "of how uber-cool and rad it would be if you could swing dance. The girls would just throw themselves on you, as if propelled by a circus cannon. All the guys would be like, 'Whoa, dude. Now there's a frood that really knows where his towel is.' And everyone else would be like, 'We're not girls or guys...what should we do?'"

This line of thought propogated itself within me all the way to dinner. Heh. Now, that's a story in itself. I decided that it would be neat to take a different route, hoping that it would somehow be shorter than the one I normally took. So I went down Museum road, turned left somewhere or another hoping to get to Broward. I have figured since then that I was probably about 500 yards away from Broward Dining, but I was too stupid to find it. So I went all the way back around campus and decided to go across the Reitz Lawn. Smart of me. So I go across the Reitz Lawn. I am very upset at this point, because I had promised to meet my friend soon, and I was gonna be late. So I'm about 2/3rds of the way across Reitz Lawn when I stop to make sure I have my Gator 1 card.

"It would really suck," I thought, "to have come all this way only to have to go back when I get to Broward Dining just because I forgot my Gator 1."

So I check my pockets. Thoroughly. Very thoroughly. For like 3 minutes thoroughly. Quite, quite, undeniably thoroughly. So thoroughly that...I didn't find it. Using my favorite chain of psuedo-curses I turned myself around and went back to Hume, quite upset. I run upstairs, grab my Gator 1 card, and return to Broward Dining. All in all, my trip to Broward (on bike, I might add) took about 30 minutes.

At any rate, I eventually did arrive there, with my friends for the most part finished with dinner. Oh well. I eventually got past my anger and rage, only to get angry and ragish (is that a word?) again at a kid in line who asked for a plate of pasta without the sauce. The cook had to make a whole entire pot just for him, slowing down the line for the rest of us by 5 minutes. Slightly irritated...ok...not so slightly irritated, I resigned myself to the horrible fact that the rest of my life would be unbearable and suck miserably with no hope for the future. With this frame of mind, I decided that swing dancing would be the perfect thing to...uhm...tick me off more. So, while at dinner, I proposed that myself and my friends go to the Reitz Union to learn to Swing dance. All praised Mark for his spectacular idea.

And, on that note, we left from din din to go find out exactly where it was at the Reitz Union on my friend's computer. Upon arriving at my friend's dorm in Broward, my friend decided that 10 minutes before we were supposed to be there would be a good time to lose his keys. We searched the dorm religiously (Me: "Is there even a remote chance that you put them in the fridge?" Him: "Uhm...very, very remote" Me: <searches> "Nope, not in the fridge. How about in the toilet? You went to the bathroom..."). In the end, we found them, but not before the clock had inched its way toward 8:00. With one minute left before start time, we rushed out of Broward hoping we could find our way to wherever the "Colonade" at Reitz was.

We rushed and rushed and rushed, and did arrive, but not before missing just a little bit. "Oh well," we figured. "Not too bad." And, for once, it wasn't.

We did a little thing where we were supposed to learn to keep our arms rigid, and then broke up into two groups: guys and girls. Now, I know, we're all supposed to be equal and all, but for purposes of swing dancing, guys and girls still have not acheived equality. Alas, such is the sad state of affairs.

Having been broken into groups, the guys learned the steps of the Lindy Hop. It's confusing...to me at least. I'm not the brightest of fellows, especially in areas involving or requiring even the slightest bit of common sense. But I got it down to some extent. Only in time to be paired with girls. If you're like me, you just flinched at seeing the word, "girls." They are indeed a scary bunch. I don't know how they can live with themselves, really. I'd be scared out of my mind all day of myself. Somehow they manage, though, and there were quite a few of them at the swing dance. So we did a little thing where we danced with one girl for a minute or two before swapping off to the next one and learning a new technique. It was quite hard, and I did indeed utter the words, "I'm sorry," a little more than I probably should have. But I was sorry, in all respects. After about an hour, the instruction ended, and there was an open dance for everybody. My friends left, and I was left to myself. It was pretty bad. I had fun, met a few people, but definitely didn't dance well.

I salute and commend anyone who can dance well. But I am white to the core. I cannot. It is a physical impossiblity. So, to say the least, I left the dance a bit embarrassed and still being about as bad as I was when I came. I just...sorta knew the steps to a dance.

I came home. I crashed.

--

Part Two: The Awakening

I awakened. It was a new day.

It was in fact today. The day that my entire life had led up to. It was going to be a pretty good day. I had only one class to attend. A 12:50 Newspaper for Non-Majors class. I decided that I should go see if I could find my books. I waited in line for a decade at the campus bookstop to get a refund for a Calculus book I had not yet received but had paid $170.00 for. After much waiting, I did indeed receive my refund. I then proceeded to bike to a store off campus that had much better prices than what I had originally paid. I found a Calculus book for about $100.00 and asked them to hold it for me because I needed to get my debit card. I went to class. It was pretty good. I enjoyed it. But I have an assignment I have to do. Why must teachers give assignments? I really don't see the point. Is there a point to doing work in college? I see none. If you know of one, please enlighten me.

So yeah...class was over. Goody. Now I can go frolic and dance in the field like little Marks were meant to! Erm...pretend I didn't say that. Please. I went up to my room. Waited a while before deciding that I should go to lunch. I went to lunch. It was great because a bus took me there. It was only a short distance walking, but I had great timing for the bus...and it was awesomely awesome. I ate. They had ribs, which was cool. The food has been good and all, but I never would have thought they would give ribs to students. Pretty nifty if you ask me. Lunch finished, I went outside to see if I could catch a bus to the Hub.

That was stupid. It was only a ten minute walk, but I decided that I should wait for the bus instead. I waited...ran across the street when I saw another bus (I was sick of busses going by me and stopping while I was at the wrong place), but I was too late. Then I almost missed the bus I had been waiting for all this time. Fortunately, the driver let me on and I was on my way. To hell. My luck dictated that the bus had to go everywhere but where I needed to go. About 45 minutes later I arrived at the hub, quite winded and tired. I had to stand for most of the way until a bunch of people got off and I was able to find a seat. Fair enough, I suppose. But then there was the fact that there were so many college students on the bus. I HATE college kids. I mean, all they do all day is go to class and study and laugh and...uhm...do pretty much everything I do. But yeah. I'm at the hub.

I go to Criser Hall to ask a quick question about financial aid. I'm directed across the hall. The person across the hall informs me that they closed at 3:30. Shucks. I go downstairs. They are open until 4:30. Hooray. I ask my question and am on my way to pick up my books. I go to target copy and buy the notes for my Calculus class, then head over to the Florida Bookstore to buy my Calculus book. $100.00. Oh well...Better than the $170.00 I had paid earlier for a book I didn't even yet have. I walk to the UF bookstore (I haven't had a bike all this time), buy my final book for $120.00. Ugh. Done. I'm really tired. I walk home.

All said and done, I paid $430.00 for books. Bright futures pays $300.00. That's $130.00 for crappy books I really don't want. :(

C'est la vie.

And then I come home and blog for an hour a bunch of stuff that no one will really care to read. Even better. Why am I so silly?

So yeah. There's the Mark report. This should last you till next year. It's enough content to fill a couple of the textbooks I just bought. Sorry it wasn't funny. More like a rant, but oh well. I need material to be funny. I'm too tired to be funny. Where have all the funnies gone?

<goes to check word count for this post> 1,836. Four pages in word. Ouch.

K thx, bye.