Funding Freakoids, suicide pens, Persian-ness, and Note passing.

Day 8

So, before I started passing notes with my neighbor and making silly gestures (more on that later) I listened to a man speak about funding for college. A man who spoke in a voice that he described as, "bedtime lullaby." Students grilled him for 50 minutes on all sorts of personal monetary issues that could have been resolved with an email.

During this lecture I learned two things:

1.) If you are not in a "research"based program you get no funding. (i.e. the Arts, i.e. me)

and,

2.) What type of person does it take to work in the financial aid offices of Universities? These people have no self-respect. I'd sooner follow around carriage horses and pick up their shit during mile-long slow-moving parades in 100 degree weather than answer to whiny students who know nothing, speak in funny accents, and do not listen. Perhaps, this is a new kind of mental illness, these are the truly deranged people. Universities are the new asylums.

In other news the only good things about orientation were the food (strange veggie burgers and fancy lettuce), a co-conspirator (again, we'll get to that later) and the swag. I am not above becoming a marketing mule...if I get a free highlighter out of it. (note: I have never used highlighters, but have a wide variety in both shape and color. But, today I got the best piece of swag in my collection thus far, this is right up their with silly promo condoms; I got a suicide pen. A pen that actually has a number (1-800-SUICIDE) to call if you are feeling suicidal; perhaps, when you are writing the note...
HAHAHA. (What do you expect? I'm the girl who goes to art museums to take pictures of all the private parts of the pieces...ha! pieces)

I seem to have fallen in with the Persian male crowd for two reasons:

1.) I know a couple curse words in Persian.

and,

2.) I can mimic a male Persian speaking English. Apparently, they find this hilarious. Who can deny love to a group that enjoys when you make fun of them? What good natured folk. The only problem is, is that one of them has gorgeous eyelashes that I covet. But, they love me so much I got to touch them...the eyelashes, that is. ; )

In one of the workshops (translation: long talks about obvious things) I started writing notes to the guy next to me. Mostly of my usual nasty variety, things like:

"Look, she's actually taking notes on what the speaker is saying! Apparently, only Americans are asshole know-it-alls."

and,

"I feel like I'm at a bad comic-con panel."

and,

"I don't think I will ever get over hearing Indian accents without thinking of "The Simpsons" no matter how hard I try."

and,

"I feel like a hobbit."

and,

"Maybe I should call the hotline on this pen."

And, he wrote back. And, he was almost as nasty as I am. Then, we skipped out of the workshop and bullshitted and then I let the stranger into my room and then we went to get beer and poke fun of the people at the bar. All in all, it was a wonderful day.

Nice people must live boring lives.

-Canadian Castaway