Great, just what I wanted for Christmas... my own private jock to torture me 24/7... and to think that I was actually looking forward to being here. It's been a week since I moved into the dorm and things are so not getting better. The fact is that I'm stuck here and I'm finding that I really don't like it.
Whether I like it or not I'll be a resident of sunny --NOT!-- Cascade for the foreseeable future, jock roommate included in the price of admission, no refunds, no returns. There will be no more traveling, no more meeting different kinds of people for me... well there may be a few foreign students. Don't get me wrong, there's a lot that can be said for studying but I was going over some of my anthro books and half the time the authors don't seem to have a clue. It's like they've forgotten that the people they are supposed to be studying are... well... people. They drone on and on about the dangers of going native like it is some sort of crime. What's with that crap? I mean, check your humanity at the door? I signed up for anthro, not the fucking military! What I've learned about people I've learned from living with them, not by watching them from an ivory tower with a pair of binoculars and a judgmental attitude.
And that was just the anthro books, the ones dealing with a subject I actually give a damn about. I also have a ton of requirements in other disciplines. I signed up for anthropology, why on Earth do I have a math requirement? I know most of those credits will probably end up having to do with statistics anyway --things like how to translate people into numbers in ten easy steps, which is something every good little anthropologist is supposed to know-- but still, it sucks.
I guess the fact is that college is not what I was expecting. I kind of thought that I would fit in here, that jocks and bullies would have had a sudden revelation and actually grown up, that teachers would be wise and give a damn. What I've found is that jocks and bullies no longer have to worry about what their parents or teachers may say. I've also learned that most professors still don't care about anything but their paychecks... not to mention the pleasant fact that regardless of whether it's here or there I'm still fucking different. I'm still too young, too short, a bastard... no matter where I go I still don't belong. In a way it's worse than it was in high school. At least in high school I had finally gotten to the point where there were younger kids on the premises, if not in my class, now I'm back to finding myself on the wrong end of the pecking order. Once again I find myself trying to get by and prove to my teachers that I actually deserve to be here... the good news is that that is not exactly a new experience and I know I can handle it.
I admit that there were quite a few things I was looking forward to and --as stupid as it may seem-- one of them was the possibility of sleeping on the same bed for a while. For most of my life I've always needed a few moments to try and figure out in which continent I am when I first wake up in the morning, but I didn't realize how much freedom I'd have to give up for that bed. I have a schedule and a bunch of rules I'm expected to follow... and, as if that weren't enough, then there's the nuclear disaster area --also known as the cafeteria, a c-word that's unfortunately far too long to be officially listed as a four letter word-- and the toxic waste they try to pass for food. For an idea of just how bad it is imagine something that can get a sixteen year old boy --that would be me-- who has eaten snakes, bugs and almost any animal part imaginable --up to and including brains and testicles-- to complain about it.
I think Naomi would freak if she were to see most of that crap... now I'm expected to live off it for years. I mean, I wasn't expecting organically grown food or anything like that but the way things are I usually can't even tell if whatever is in front of me used to be a vegetable or an animal in its previous incarnation. They've even managed to turn the salad bar into a wasteland and I'm still trying to figure out how they did that... of course, their habit of adding ketchup to just about anything may be a clue. Luckily I don't give a damn about kosher 'cause I don't know how an orthodox Jew or a Muslim would survive here, after all it's not like we get a list of ingredients with our meals.
I guess I'll have to do what I do best: adapt. I don't know why I thought things could turn out to be different here. Over the years I've learned how to fit in in the oddest places but somehow this is going to be different... harder. The funny thing is that those were foreign places, this is where I'm supposed to belong.