Friday, February 18, 2011

A = Vagina

I spend a large portion of my time by myself. Not scarily large; I'm not the dandruff chick from The Breakfast Club. While I'm not a complete hermit, I do find that I need to have a few hours by myself most days to be content. I've more or less always been this way, so I don't question it very often.




However, I, like many others, sometimes doubt the most fundamental aspects of my personality. Is it good to like being alone? Should I make more of an effort with my classmates? Am I self-contained, or just eternally bitter and pissed off? The last time I had these thoughts was May, 2010.

 I was standing outside an exam hall, waiting for my 19th Century American Literature exam to begin. Absently flicking through some notes on Herman Melville. I look up. I sigh. I see a group of my classmates, standing around socialising and generally being jovial like it's nobody's business. I fold my notes and decide that its time I break out of  my own bookish shell and start a conversation with the people I'd spent the previous two years actively avoiding. I am brave! I am charismatic! 

I stop and overhear the conversation that is already taking place. One guy, who is clearly the leader of the conversation, delivers the single douchiest sound bite since the creation of language. Funnily enough, it was about the creation of language.

"...and so, the Romans believed that the letter "A", was to be the first letter. The life-giver, the originator of the language. That's why it's so clearly shaped like a vagina."




I waited for his friends to say something, anything that would even vaguely address how that makes sense. Everyone nodded and continued talking about the alphabet, like it was a legitimate conversation. 

I decided, quite wisely, that there was no need to engage with my classmates today. I backed away from the group of English students, and never approached them again. 

Thankfully, the exam went slightly better then my failed social interaction. I got a Vagina in it and everything.



1 comment:

  1. I'll comment when I stop laughing at the douchebag in your story.
    God above, it's always English students.... I was lucky with my classmates. Mostly did Shakespearean stuff and got to avoid the painful, smug shite seemingly the hallmark of the rest of that department...

    I'm starting to love reading this.

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