I could have started writing earlier today, I was home for almost an hour before my six o’clock movie class. (Though, that might have been pre-writing though.) A movie I’ve heard about tons of times, now I’ve seen, “Casablanca”.

Set in a German war, Rick runs a bar. Also, Rick helps people from time to time as part of an Underground Railroad of sorts to get people out of the country (un-occupied France, with a heavy Third Reich presence already.) Minus color and foul language, it could have been any war drama on TV today. Very slow in the beginning as it introduced an array of characters, speeding up every so slightly as the story line developed. Predictable in the end as the good guy triumphed, yet with a small twist as he antagonist let him get away with murder and befriended him again.

Another movie that as I had not watched it yet and neither can I say was on my list at all, so I’m rather certain that without this class I would not have watched it. Was it worth it? Ehh.. 1/15th of 4 college credits, a free refill on my popcorn bucket (given free at the first class,) and an opportunity to learn another classmates name, I think. “Cera”, with a C. I certainly remember the C and her smile, yet overly focused on that, she may have said “C E N A” as likely as “C E R A”, or even “H E L L O” and I may not have had more reaction than the same grin as I took the opportunity to see her smile. I sit four or five rows behind her and usually only notice her bright blonde/white hair outside of her movie commentary (tonight, comments on “Malalignment”?)

Backwards could work. I was home for an hour, maybe a bit more. Wasn’t time enough to do much, although I did think about beginning to write this post, yet that sounded too much like “pre-writing” to me, so I skipped that. Instead, just a bit of TV time instead. Well, and time to smoke a gram of the cbd pot and even a few tokes of the good stuff right before I left. Next Monday, I’ll need a better plan for something quick I can make. The lunch held on better than I thought, yet dinner, instead of just a bucket of popcorn, would have been a good use of time.

English 132 was going to be easy and it still will be, yet today I made it a little bit harder. Drawing a blank for any mundane topic question to choose for the beginning of a “pre-writing” packet, I choose to ask: does the application of “pre-writing packets” improve writing rather than giving the option of allowing full papers to be turned in instead. I’m glad that I have a good rapport with this teacher so far (especially, as I’m accepting his movie advice and guidance pretty open-mindedly,) and we’ve already chatted a bit about the volume of writing that I like to do. He was quick to perceive my joke about the forced-writing of a pre-writing packet, though when another classmate made an argument for the assignment, saying it would help write paper, his silent eyes spoke volumes from behind their head as they spoke.

I tried to better state that I was well practiced in written which earned the persons quick response that perhaps the time to write an outline first couldn’t hurt. I couldn’t help but to smile. This is the second or third… ‘sparring’ type comment, on top generally positive comments from them and the class, this one has take two opportunity to critique me sharply, or better said, only poked at the opportunities. I think that means that they listens well enough to the things I say (even in this context, that I was saying to someone else,) to follow along until one of my sentences begins to stray in order to point it out. If I was to say ‘sparring’ though, I could also say sassy.

The teacher could have played off my comment for what it was, mostly a joke. Yet, perhaps showing the teacher he is, he replied after his initial commentary “No, no, I think you might have something there…” and went on to describe a skeleton of a pretty good paper- What is the best way to learn and teach about writing? What methods have been tried? Have people studied this? By his third or fourth question, realizing that I was listening to an English teacher teach about English, I figured that this wasn’t the first time he read off this list of questions on this topic and I had a strong feeling that he has researched and likely written on this topic himself. I think the real issue about writing about writing will be only writing two thousand words while writing about writing.

I’m going to feel bad when I ask him his name next time I see him. We had started a pretty good discussion in the last ten minutes of class then picked it up again in the hall as we walked out. Going the same way, we kept talking all the way to the parking lot and paused for a minute. Good conversation I told him, but I’ve gotta go get my vape and I motioned the way to my car- I’ll walk with you he said as we continued the discussion from Government class (for reference, he is a 17 black man,) pertaining to equality in our country. In class, the teacher likes to use the last ten minutes of class to ‘drum up’ interesting conversation, ‘from the class.. from anything..’, and today it landed with several comments about justice. My new still nameless friend had made a rather impassioned argument stated his points against “they”. I raised my hand next to contribute a reply and after several other comments I was able to turn to him and offer a reply of my comments and thoughts of the nameless “they”, which began our conversation right as the “bell rung”.

Class had gotten out on time to the minute, 2:17. Having started at 1:00, and that it’s only a once per week class, I can’t hardly complain the as the teacher takes every minute she can. In most classes, the seating arrangements had not changed at all, or at least not enough for me to notice. This was only our second class in fourteen days, perhaps that’s enough time that the previous pattern didn’t hold as well- or perhaps its that I noticed the two or three that did move because one had previous sat next to me?

He and two others had apparently bonded at some point and the three arrived together and took seats in the far front corner of the room. Displacing several students there, they filled in other seats in the class. Again, most students were on their phones being quieter than I can every remember any classes being twenty years ago. I sat, on my phone, as I surveyed the room. Displaced, was a student two of my other classes as well (Humanities and Psychology, though the second was pointed out to me later,) they had a seat in the lecture hall on the opposite corner of the room (front-right vs my rear-left,) as similarly as previously had in this class, now from a selection, they chose as empty table behind me.

Setting down my phone this seemed like a great time to state to obvious: don’t you have another class with me? I’m Jeromy. That seemed to work pretty well. I had remembered her from Humanities (though, everyone else seems to call it cultural connections,) she mentioned she was also in my Psychology class – all three of her in person classes. The conversation was friendly and moved quick from one topic to another among the three classes. Only a few minutes to chat, then we later teamed up for the first group assignment. For a short class, the teacher keeps it moving and it goes quick. Today, I did notice the teacher putting out her own political opinion – yet to be fair, the classroom discussion had not brought it up and she presented it fairly, in a very, paraphrased “some other people think….” adding no particular weight onto it as her opinion (and I suppose it is only inference that I make a highly educated academia women’s likely political views are,) rather just made just the point had entered the discussion.

Trying to squeeze one more thing into this day, I tried to make a call into MI-DHHS. After Humanities I walked back out to my car to sit, vape, and make the call. After waiting 15 minutes a person answer and said that she would make a note that I had called and to have a nice day. Catching her from her hurry, I explained I was calling back to speak with a person, that’s why I’d waited on hold. Oh, she said. This line just takes messages. Oh, I said and thank her. Well, I still had time for lunch.

Would my day been better without a twenty minute waste of time? I think not. On my walk across the parking lot, then down and around the WA building, I caught the eye of a co-ed coming my way- as with many of my classmates, young and attractive- and I prepared to smile in passing. I was caught off-guard and made an odd expression I guess when she had said “Hello Jeromy.” My open smile likely contorting to questioning forehead wrinkles as I was drawing no associations for how this co-ed knew (or would care,) about my name.

From Cultural Connections, I’m Alivia with an A, she said – delighted, I responded: I’m Jeromy with an O, and spelt my name. To which she replied with the requisite “Ohh…” to which I of course grin. (Oh, these same conversations we’ve had a thousand times..) I’m glad I got to meet her (and hence, I’m glad I wasted twenty minutes in my car on the phone,) as from the back of the lecture hall I had not seen her face (I didn’t say that,) and I hadn’t the chance to ask where in “Olivia” a person might put an A to differentiate from “Olivi” without an A. Brief bonding over name uniqueness. A thirty second conversation. A smile lasting all the way into the dinning hall.

To the table first this time, I set down my messenger bag and cane and prepared to go stand in line, without my aid, yet with two hands free to carry my food. Perhaps the timing (which was perfect,) the line for the kitchen window was long (and now I knew would be followed by another long wait once the order was taken.) I backed out of the line and surveyed my options. To the left, a secondary setup today configures at a baked potato bar. The toppings chosen placed into saute pan, ham, bacon, tomatoes, broccoli, cheese and peppers for me heated up and dumped on top of a buttery baked potato. I’d already judged the potato to be on the smaller side, yet the toppings doubled its mass. Even with the soda, I’m not sure if I got $8.13 out of it… yet, I suppose I could pack a lunch every Monday. Or just stop complaining, that was a good baked potato.

Gladly, with an hour and a half between the first two classes, I have plenty of time to eat (and make phone calls,) and still make it back to my car to vape to swap books if I needed to. I had a few extra minutes after lunch so I did walk back to my car, yet by time I got there, I only had a few minutes before I need to walk to my next class, Government and I wanted to be a few minutes early for any possible discussions with my classmates (glad I was.)

I went to sleep right on time last night (up a bit late now, it’s 12:32, yet no classes tomorrow,) and pretty much got right up when the alarm went off. It was a painful morning, yet I forced myself into the shower and into my clothes. It slowed me down more than I thought and it was 9:10 by time I made it downstairs, poured cereal the same time I started the kettle and almost finished before it came to a boil. Had time to steep and drink my cup of tea. Held off until the last moment, I took a few tokes of a cbd bowl.

Standing to leave at 9:30 yet driving out at 9:35 tells me were the first five minutes of my margin go. On the road and now familiar with what I feel is the most efficient path in the morning (a different route taken home,) I arrived on campus and parked in a spot ten minutes to ten. I do need to get a handicapped parking pass again- there is a row of mostly unused spots in the front row. Walking into the James McDivitt building, I am now familiar with the small back hallway that leads directly to the closest parking lot, and also of the small elevator precisely at that location as well. Very convenient, even if it is a rather slow elevator. Only two stories each, most buildings have a vaulted first floor making a one story staircase feel like two or three. I took the steps most often the first week, yet with time I’ve learned the elevators positions.

Off the elevator this morning, I turned to see if the teacher would be on time for class today. Turning the corner, I saw my classmates huddled around, standing, sitting on the floor. The same three chairs now with a single different student. I asked if I could sit and she obliged (again moving from the center to a far end, and placing her backpack on the ground.) While taking off my messenger bag and setting it down to turn and sit myself, I mentioned that our teacher had been late last week as well. I said this quickly, so she would hopefully not return to her phone. Tilting it back down she responded with a “yeah..” as I finished sitting and introduced myself.

Last week I told her, I took the opportunity to introduce myself to a random classmate with the few minutes we had in the hallway. “You did?” she said, I smiled, nodded and said “Yes, what is your name?” and that is how I met Mackenzie this morning (unless there are A’s or O’s in there I don’t know about…) and experienced a completely new story and perspective to start my day. Though, after thinking about it all day, it’s not my story to share, so I won’t. Odd though- past the mundane that is the farthest thing back today that happened. Yet here I am, thinking about it last.

Time to rest.

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