Blast Off

I’m surrounded by a blur of color, as students push by hurriedly on their way to somewhere, and probably late. Flyers for socialist discussion groups and sorority fundraisers are pushed into my hands by earnest students, and promotional flyers for chain restaurants are shoved in my face by disgruntled workers as I try to make my way to class, passing the acapella choir and the evangelical guy with guitar and trying to keep my head down.

After a long year of being a crusty wild-hearted vagabond traveling at my own speed all over the country and setting my own agenda each day, waking up at 7a.m. to rush up the hill to a class about how smart old white dudes are feels a little bit like accidentally adding sea salt to my morning tea.

The three days before class began I prepared myself by going to protest after protest, locking down the federal building, camping out in the BART station, marching through East Oakland, and essentially not sleeping. My life already feels so over the top, the idea of adding in a full-time class schedule is kinda unbelievable. I’m already on the second week of trying and failing to schedule a date with my new crush (because, really, meetings don’t get to count as dates :/) and can sense this is only going to get harder.

But, stay tuned for updates about my new tumblr account “Horrible Conversations I Overheard At Cal Today”. That’s only sorta a joke. Today someone sitting next to me casually mentioned that her boyfriend had angrily threatened to kill someone she had danced with over the weekend. She thought it was sweet. I am very confused.

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