The Frat Boy Inside


There I sat, in my fourth straight hour of lectures, in the same small, stuffy classroom, the same old carpet supporting my same old quickly spreading ass.   The first three hours were mind blowing, but now I was in my second class… and it was just blowing.  We were talking about suicide.  Well, let me clarify: the teacher was talking about suicide.  And, as you might guess, it was DEPRESSING (as suicide tends to be).  So, I did what I do when I need to check out.  Well, no, I didn’t crack open a beer or start playing on Facebook.  I doodled.  This is something people did in school before laptops and iPhones existed.  We used this stuff called paper and these other weird contraptions called pens and we doodled!  Crazy-old-fashioned, I know.  I doodled with my orange pen, creating a Seuss-ish flower and the word’s “Happy Place.” (see my previous blog post)  I was making my orange sanctuary, a place to protect me from the rather insensitive lecture taking place around me.  Finally, just when I thought I was going to use up all the ink in my pen (or start eating it because I was getting really hungry) we had a brief break.  Did I tell you I’d been sitting on the floor this entire time?  I have a six hour day of class in which we sit on the floor THE WHOLE TIME!  (This ensures we are hippie-esque and Buddhist-ish) I thought this would be heaven for a person who had been standing at work for 15 years, but surprisingly my ever-widening buttocks do not appreciate floors.  Go figure.  As I was trying to engage my atrophying quads in order to stand upright, I noticed another student had been doodling.  She had made some beautiful, non-suicidal hot air balloons.  I brilliantly thought I should comment on our similar dissociation styles.

“Hey look!  Your hot air balloons can fly over my happy place!”

Yes.  I always speak before I think.  Gotta work on that.  My theory is that my shadow side had been engaged from sitting through such a dark lecture.  I was tired.  I couldn’t keep my shadow in check, like I usually do.  Typically my shadow comes out when I sleep, and then I can tuck it neatly away in my underwear drawer when I wake up in the morning.

But not this day.

This day, my shadow came out to play.

And apparently my shadow is a horny frat boy.

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