In an all-new level of awkwardness, I find myself unhappily positioned in the middle of a political forum on campus.  My usual “study” area in the Kennedy International studies building has become overrun by eager political science students who are listening to a Brown Professor give a lecture on the Cuban Missile Crisis in one of the conference rooms here.  The over flow is ridiculous- there are about 150 students packed into this small lounge area.  They are sitting on the floor, pressed in together like sardines in a can.  And here I am in the middle of them all, trying to be as discreet as possible as I try to watch my tv shows.  That’s how embedded I am into super senioritis culture I am- some guy, who is probably world renowned and highly important, as his turn-out suggests, is presenting what could be critical scholarship, and I am merely annoyed that some hippy is getting scarily close to actually sitting on my feet.

UPDATE: the room has not taken on a most unpleasant musty smell- a combination of breath, student budget perfume,  and damp tennis shoes.

Here’s what I have against your typical “student” who is sadly affected by this era’s insistence on returning to the 90s style grunge (as dictated by the terms of being an effective hipster).  Hand-me0downs have become ever popular, meaning that the entire fall collection from your closest Good Will or Salvation Army are staring me in the face right now.  I get the need to wear an oversized woolen sweater to “fit in,” but surely we could come to this conclusion by just buying your own sweater rather than donning somebody’s great uncle’s moth infested vintage?

UPDATE: the speaker is apparently the son of the Russian prime minister or something like that.  I can only hope they meant former prime minister because this dude is OLD.

I have given up on my attempts to watch my show.  Because of my central position amidst a sea of hipsters, I feel like their combined power to judge me might actually cause physical harm.  Instead I am resolved to count the number of knock off Ray ban style dark rimmed glasses and tortoise shell rimmed glasses that are dotted around the room.  There’s about thirty.

UPDATE: in an interesting twist, the guy next to me is sporting argyle socks.  Maybe there’s hope for our future political leaders after all.  He’s even wearing corduroy trousers.

Right about now I am sorely regretting not bailing on my cushy spot.  As wonderful as it is to enjoy a soft seat that’s located close to a power outlet, the smell is not worth it.  It’s beginning to get humid; it’s so muggy in here.

UPDATE: number of ex’s / guys I’ve gone on dates with in the room is now up to 4.  Rather than question my sluttiness, I’m more concerned with the idea that statistically that could mean I date too many of the same guy.

This speaker is really kind of interesting.  I’m not completely listening because, as is usually the case with our campus, some passionately stubborn mother is insisting that her whining kid is not distracting to the rest of us.  However, from what I can gather, he’s looking at the effects of the crisis from unexpected international standpoints.  I like that.  I am a big advocate for examining all aspects of an argument- and the most effective standpoints can often come from unexpected sources.  Especially when they have enough leverage to be somewhat objective.

UPDATE: old speaker paused for a second and for a second I witnessed a united breath of caution as we all contemplated the possibility that speaker could drop dead at any second.

Anyway.  Despite the smell and the obvious encroachment on my personal space (I’m looking at you, whose butt is edging dangerously close to my suede kitten heels), the one thing I am grateful for right now is the sound of Brown professor’s beautiful accent.  It pleases me immensely to hear European tones of any kind- I miss my continent so.

One comment

  1. It’s about time smoonee wrote about this.

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