School has been very…hands-on so far. On my second day, we dissected locusts in bio lab. I don’t know if you’ve seen a locust lately but these aren’t small insects. They are giant, swarming grasshoppers, each individual maybe the length of my longest finger. Everyone else in lab acted like this was totally normal – second day of classes, dissection of disgusting insects, no big d. The girl sitting next to me, Alex, was one of those goody-goody freshman types, all wide-eyed and eager to learn. She kept asking questions that were irrelevant to the lab just to prove how very interested and bright she was. Nevertheless, I would have been completely fucked (excuse my French for just this moment) if she weren’t sitting next to me because I was neither in possession of a dissection kit, nor did I have any idea what was going on. She shared her tools and her appreciation for wolf skeletons and the ooey gooey innards of her locust with me. Thank you, Alex.
After pinning the little suckers down, we were supposed to slice off the top of their exoskeletons and peel them back to examine their digestive systems. Then, we submerged the carcasses in water and watched as their bright yellow, sticky gametes and other tissues floated around, along with the heads and tails and other parts we had already chopped off. We poked around a little, made some measurements, then discarded what had become our very own locust soup in the giant sinks in the back of the room. Why am I taking bio again??
On Wednesday, I maneuvered my way into the fifteen-student beginner’s ceramics class. The teacher is a ruddy-faced Australian with a serious cigarette addiction and mumbling problem. He’s great. He showed us a quick slideshow and demonstration then set us free to create magic on the pottery wheels. I tossed my chunk of clay from palm to palm, working the molecules back into their plastic state and anticipating getting messy making masterpieces on the wheel. I was more or less successful, producing three bowl-ish pots with only minor imperfections. I walked home in the dark drizzle, with achy palms and a contented grin.
Last night, Richard, one of my Tulane friends, cooked a delicious meal for a 7-person dinner party at my place. Lamb, mashed potatoes, pasta, a melty, soupy chocolate “mousse”, and 4 hours later, we set off to a bar in Newtown for karaoke. I sang Wannabe by the Spice Girls with some American girls who solicited me to join them at the bar. Preya and I sang Ego by Beyonce. But mostly we just listened to all the other people, – some good, some bad – as they enjoyed their moment in the spotlight.
There was this guy who was giving me shit (excuse my French one last time) the entire night. I had to pass him to get to and from our table in the corner and he was just being drunk and obnoxious and wouldn’t leave me alone. I threatened him, “I’m going to pour this on you if you don’t leave me alone,” motioning to my cup of water. Alas, he proceeded to piss me off, and I proceeded to accidentally spill an entire glass of water all over him. Oops. After that, the situation necessitated the assistance of my now-good friend, the karaoke DJ, to tell the guy to back off so I could get in and out of my table without the risk of being doused in beer.
His friends apologized for his douchebagery behavior on our way out and I apologized for splashing them in the process of showing him he messed with the wrong girl. All was well in the end.
Today is Friday and I don’t have class at all and that is pretty sick.