Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

A shiver goes down my spine when that one boy…the one with the hair in his eyes and a scruff of hair on his chin, walks into the lecture ten minutes after the professor has begun talking, and he stomps like the Green Giant to the front row and while moving to the middle of the aisle his backpack hits my face. No, I can’t stand students like that. Then there are those who treat the lecture hall as their personal restaurant. Once, this girl opened a full can of tuna and pasted it onto a piece of bread, downed it with Starbucks (worst curse upon this world) and proceeded to strawberry yoghurt and crackers and fries. Why? But these are mere observations of mine. Other students count sheep or just listen to the professor and they fall asleep, even if in the second row. There are those who type furiously, as if the course was a pathway to God. They record every detail being said, they probably write down who coughed in class and when and for what reason and questions on t...

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 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 tha...