After roughly five years I have made the trek back to the world of academia to finally finish my undergraduate degree. Despite being told my entire life that it is never too late to complete one's degree, I feel more sheepish than triumphant in my return. Currently I'm only taking two classes. I'm 28, just two years short of 30, colloquially referred to as the "your shit should be together by now" age. 30 is more than halfway to 50, which is only 15 years away from the retirement age of 65, which is only 13 years away from the average age of death in the US. Basically I'm almost dead and still don't have my diploma.
First day of Motor Development we are told to introduce ourselves to our neighbors. A cheery eyed young woman sits to my left and introduces herself. Because I am bad with names, faces, and feet, her name escapes me. "I'm Dominic," I say, "just trying to finish my degree after a long layoff."
"Oh really? What made you decide to come back?" The Germans use the word sehnsucht to describe a sense of intense longing, a simple word for the complex emotion of yearning for a life, an idea, that has escaped me thus far. Her demeanor implies a hopefulness, an optimism that I wish not to tarnish with my truth. I stare deep into her eyes.
"To serve as a cautionary tale, my dear." She absorbs the gravity of my words - intent and sincerity - and is visibly uncomfortable. "Also," I roll up my pants to better show off my footwear, "to bring back Heelys." I pull off some hella sick ass tricks with my Heelys, much to the delight of my peers and professor.
"Damn bro, save some pussy for the rest of us," says my professor as I Heely out of class eight minutes after it started.
I've found that media depictions of the modern day college student have been vastly blown out of proportion. Sure, we are required to spit on a picture of Milo Yiannopolous before entering any academic building. Sure, my statistics class spent the first two weeks going over appropriate pronouns (one lecture devoted entirely to the Elven) before getting down to brass tacks. Sure, both of my professors insist on passing around complimentary e-cigarettes along with scantrons. Sure, one registered Republican is burnt at the stake each month to appease Mount Sanders, lest it erupt and engulf us in socialist flame and ash. Ignoring all that I've mostly found my peers to be an affable bunch that hardly represent the SJW stereotype perpetuated by the media. Except for this one dude in my Stats lab.
He's an older gentleman - mid 40s - rocking the shit out of the try-hard glasses/fuckboy haircut combo. His gaze for our 21 year old instructor walks the precarious line between awkwardly seductive and dude-chill-the-fuck-out-she's-a-person-not-a-prime-Brazilian-steak. Aside from his date rapey stares, what annoys me the most about him is he feels the need to fucking interject at every momentary respite in the lecture. Jokes no one needs, insights no one finds profound, sentences devoid of substance. He's what happens when the word pretentious goes super Saiyan.
As far as actual course work is concerned, my return has been like riding a bike. By "a bike" I mean "a unicycle on fire" and "riding" I mean "being bludgeoned to death with." This is a good sign, as my previous attempt at being a college student consisted of no cycling in any form. I have refined a schedule of class, workout, study, cry on a park bench while eating lasagna, work, more study, cry until physically incapable of producing anymore tears, and sleep. Repeat until the end of the semester. With only five weeks left to go, I think I can manage.
As far as actual course work is concerned, my return has been like riding a bike. By "a bike" I mean "a unicycle on fire" and "riding" I mean "being bludgeoned to death with." This is a good sign, as my previous attempt at being a college student consisted of no cycling in any form. I have refined a schedule of class, workout, study, cry on a park bench while eating lasagna, work, more study, cry until physically incapable of producing anymore tears, and sleep. Repeat until the end of the semester. With only five weeks left to go, I think I can manage.
