Trying to pay attention in a class with 1500 other students,
And all I see is a sea of Apple logos and consumerism and U of T hoodies,
The occasional obnoxious boy with feet perched on the seat ahead of him,
A screen with a powerpoint slide that is the size of a house,
Constant gossip and people trying to squeeze through ten minutes late and a girl checking her neopets account a
And all I see is a sea of Apple logos and consumerism and U of T hoodies,
The occasional obnoxious boy with feet perched on the seat ahead of him,
A screen with a powerpoint slide that is the size of a house,
Constant gossip and people trying to squeeze through ten minutes late and a girl checking her neopets account a
nd a boy sleeping right under the professor’s nose, while I’m there writing feverishly, drifting off occasionally and fantasizing about Paninis and coffee served on a plateau of sugar.
Walking, walking, constantly from one class to the next, no one seems to be rushing, moving like a slow artery, that of a wrinkled man on his deathbed, blood barely reaching his heart.
But I’m always in a rush, because I want to save time in order to do more useless things like sit on a bench beside the food truck that was last inspected in 2005, its windows shabby and its menu much too large to fit the ingredients in that sketchy, metal truck. So I sit there and eat a sandwich or shawarma and I drink some apple juisce that I packed from home, much like I did when in fourth grade. I look at the pigeons and they look at me and we share a bond. Then I realize that I’ve been staring at pigeons for much too long and I should probably open a book or something to avoid social ridicule.
But the readings are lullabies that bring me straight to sleep, and sleeping on a bench is less acceptable than sitting on one.
Going home there’s the subway and finding a spot to sit in and the feeling of overwhelming guilt every time I see a frail lady stand beside me but I pretend not to see her cause I’m a Torontonian now.
Life is so much more difficult now, no more walking down the street to get to class, no more “being surrounded by friends” (what are friends? Do they grow on trees?), the teachers don’t know my name and to them I am a measly 1st year student, one blurry face amongst hundreds.
This is university, my friends. I’ve worked hard to get here my entire public school life, and I’m rewarded with the feeling of animosity and pessimism in finding a job. On an unrelated note, university’s great!
Walking, walking, constantly from one class to the next, no one seems to be rushing, moving like a slow artery, that of a wrinkled man on his deathbed, blood barely reaching his heart.
But I’m always in a rush, because I want to save time in order to do more useless things like sit on a bench beside the food truck that was last inspected in 2005, its windows shabby and its menu much too large to fit the ingredients in that sketchy, metal truck. So I sit there and eat a sandwich or shawarma and I drink some apple juisce that I packed from home, much like I did when in fourth grade. I look at the pigeons and they look at me and we share a bond. Then I realize that I’ve been staring at pigeons for much too long and I should probably open a book or something to avoid social ridicule.
But the readings are lullabies that bring me straight to sleep, and sleeping on a bench is less acceptable than sitting on one.
Going home there’s the subway and finding a spot to sit in and the feeling of overwhelming guilt every time I see a frail lady stand beside me but I pretend not to see her cause I’m a Torontonian now.
Life is so much more difficult now, no more walking down the street to get to class, no more “being surrounded by friends” (what are friends? Do they grow on trees?), the teachers don’t know my name and to them I am a measly 1st year student, one blurry face amongst hundreds.
This is university, my friends. I’ve worked hard to get here my entire public school life, and I’m rewarded with the feeling of animosity and pessimism in finding a job. On an unrelated note, university’s great!
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