I hate Fridays. Fridays are where all the unlikeable qualities of the common man come out of their system and people who are still sane are left to fend for themselves and endure the effects. A lot of people may be thanking God, or goodness, depending on your version, that it is Friday every time that specific day of the week arrives, but personally, I hate it.
To cite some examples:
Last night, it was a bit late when I came back from my office. It was around 8:30 in the evening. So the buses were infrequent by then. I was sitting in the chair directly behind the driver, so I see all the faces of the people coming in. Then one guy comes in, and rudely says to the driver, "Six Flags, right?" (which pertained to the name of a nearby amusement park). I wonder how old these students are. I wonder if they forgot to bring their manners into their dormrooms and instead left them at home.
I went to the supermarket to pick up a bottle of milk and a cereal box. Outside the supermarket, in the parking lots, I see all these jocks hauling their weekly supply of beer into their cars, cartons of them. Wow. No wonder everyone is just zoned out during the weekend.
I feel that some of the people around here are hedonistic and Epicurean, and that the main orbit of their life is the pursuit of pleasure, pursuing it as if tomorrow they will die.
Anyway, enough of that depressing talk.
Two weeks have passed since I started teaching my students. I already gave them their first assignment, and last Friday I gave them their first quiz. It looked like they had a hard time for the quiz. Some students seem to have thought that because my class is the one with the lowest numerical code, and because it is a freshman class, then it would be easy. No, ladies and gentlemen, numerical codes for class is not directly proportional to the easiness or hardness of a class. So I hope that after I turn their quizzes back, then they will realize that.
Ah, I love the pressure that comes with being a graduate student. I have deadlines to meet, and I have projects to write. I just finished recording the first batch of data gathering that I needed to do for my Phonetics class. So I went to the soundproof Phonetics Lab with my Kuwaiti Arabic informant, and we recorded some speech samples.
Early this morning, I went to the dry cleaners to pick up my suits. It happens that the man managing the place is a foreigner. I had the guts to ask where he was from, and he replied that he was Lebanese. I told him that I come from the Philippines, and speak four languages. One thing led to another, and we had a fine chat.
Sometimes, the visitors are friendlier than the residents here, that I should say.