Free-write: 45 South

Date: 3/31/2017

Location: 45 South

 

Right now I am in downtown Norcross at a coffee shop attempting to do homework. My homework generally goes, (1) pick a class, (2) Read what I am supposed to do that week in class, (3) see how long I can focus on that topic without switching assignments. Usually I can stay concentrated on a reading for about twenty minutes before my mind becomes preoccupied with something else, which leads me to writing this. I was reading something for my composition class, but I got bored of the reading and decided to do something else. This semester just keeps dragging on with boring readings and I always have trouble comprehending the reading. It’s amazing, sometimes I can sit down and read a whole book and when I’m done I couldn’t tell you one thing about that. I think it normally has to do with the topics that the professors choose. I’m not sure if the professors are trying to torture me with these readings, but if they are, they are excelling with it.

I always picture a giant pep-rally with all the professors prior to the semester. The dean of the school walks out to fireworks and all the professors sitting in the stands. The deans says to the teachers, “What are we going to do this semester?” Then the professors yell, “Make ‘em cry!!!” Another good metaphor of where I am right now is in the movie “Life of Pi” when he is on the boat and a giant storm comes and Pi yells, “I surrender!” to the sky. I’m at the point of my college life when I want to just stop and take a break for a while.

Anyways, like I said I am at a coffee shop I downtown Norcross. There are a variety of types of people here. I have the teenagers next to me talking about school and there life. I’ll be honest, I am listening to their conversation as I am typing this because of how funny and simple the things they are saying. Since I changed school a few times in high school, I never got those high school years so it all seems very foreign to me. What’s interesting about high school is that as you get older, it seems to stay the same. It was funny a second ago the owner of the coffee shop was preparing for the night setup and he starting putting candles on the tables and when he came to the teenagers table he said, “I’m not sure if this applies, but here you go,” acting as if they were on a date.

The band is also setting up right now to begin their performance. It seems like every coffee shop band is the same: a couple in very hipster clothes, the guy plays guitar and does the backup singing and the girl does the main singing in a very monotone, calm voice. Maybe the same place that makes the Starbucks customers also makes the coffee shop bands. They are always pretty uniform.

From what else I can see, there are a few older people around just sitting and talking. Something that comes to mind when I think about older people is when I was in one of my classes the other day. We were talking about not using sexist words when writing and the student said that we need to find alternatives when using words like “senior citizen.” I really don’t understand this. How is that word offensive? I really don’t understand this PC culture because language is not always supposed to be taken so literally and seriously. When I was in South America over the summer they gave each other nick names through adjectives, such as, “the fat one,” “the young one,” “the black one.” They just never got offended and they were always joking around. In the US, ESPECIALLY in the school environment we have to be very conscious with not offending anyone. Sometimes I just chose not to talk in my classes because I just don’t want to deal with people taking what I say too literally.

Well, the band started to play and I conform that they do in fact sound like the generic coffee shop band; however, the girl is actually playing guitar and singing. I guess I shouldn’t have stereotyped and figured that the girl couldn’t play guitar. Jesus, I need to be a bit more culturally sensitive!!! I guess I will finish writing now and focus on something else.

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