i went to go fill out the withdrawal the thursday after my last entry. i sent emails of my intent to my professors, my classmates, and one to my bitch ass professor telling her what i think of her. i'll post all those emails at the end of this entry for posterity and whoever else is interested.
so. that's it. im a college drop out. im so kanye right now.
later in the evening of that same day, i sat in love park for awhile awaiting company to head to the concert with. as i sat, i turned over the day's events in my mind and got real excited about it. so i called a bunch of people and told them. one of my friends laughed hysterically for 20 minutes, then told me what a brave thing ive done.
im either brave or completely out of my gourd.
i now have to write a letter to the dean of the college (have i mentioned this here before? ive typed this stuff so many times, its all running together) and i have to stop by the bursar's office to see about getting some of this semester's tuition back (which i dont think i will) and give my punkass professor her books back, and that's that. i am washed clean of temple u.
i did go to that art show at my teacher's house, though. what a drag. she's got a G O R G E O U S house, oh man--like, everything is wood. beautiful beautiful cherry and mahogany and whatever else. she lives in the fairmount area and on the outside the place doesn't look big at all but man, it was like 4 stories high inside. i felt like i was inside better homes & gardens magazine.
i was the only student there and therefore the youngest. other than me, the youngest person there was 35. i wasn't in a mingling mood, so i didn't do much; i mostly sat on the couch and ate up all the crackers. she kept introducing me as her student and kept telling me that i need to meet this person and this person and that person because they're either in temple's grad program or are not long out of it.
..why do i need to meet them now that im not in it anymore?
when people would ask me if i was a student and what program im in and blah blah blah, i didnt feel like going through the whole withdrawal story, so i just went with it. one lady sitting beside me, whom i had never ever laid eyes on and vice versa, said to me,
'are u a student?'
yes, i said, my name's tracy.
'are u having trouble?'
.... wtf? what is my teacherlady (not the teacherbitch, but the one who invited me to the art show; that's how i'll distinguish between them--teacherlady and teacherbitch) telling these ppl? how the fk did she know?
so i asked her, how did u know?
she said she just had a feeling.
bullshit, teacherlady's runnin her mouth abt stuff. whatever, im done. iont care.
but really, what puzzles me is why she's acting like i havent withdrawn from the program. she introduced me as her student, told people to contact me about being a grad student, and before i left, she asked when id next be on campus.
um.... never? i withdrew, remember?
largely, the reason i went was because she said there were people i needed to meet, namely a guy named quincy. i figured it would be this guy because she had us buy a book of his to study later on in class, and because she always talks about how she knows him personally. but it wasnt. it was quincy jones. not the cool quincy jones. her son, quincy, whose last name happens to be jones.
i noticed a tall, very thin, very yellow young man with hair struggling to remined locked come in about 30 minutes before i decided to get up and go. he wasn't an attractive guy. he was very long and gaunt, not cuteskinny but sicklyskinny with frail violinist hands. he saw me when he came in; he was looming near, reading a book, or at least pretending to, by the time i stood to leave. i got my jacket from the closet (broke out the member's only for the first time this season--its gettin cold out, man) and walked back into the room where i was sitting to tell teacherlady i was leaving.
before i left she introduced me to some other people--her husband, the artist; some white guy who just finished his ph.d work, and the tall sickly looking yellow boy with the loosey goosey dreadlocks. that was quincy, her son. teacherlady is a dark woman, so his pops MUST be white, which is interesting to note, considering that teacherlady is the most Mama Africa assed woman i think ive ever met. she had just introduced me to the white guy. 'she's new,' she said. i stuck out my hand to the white guy and to my left i hear a couple of footsteps and an echoing voice asking, 'she's new?' that was quincy, swooping in. as the white guy was giving me his contact information, i turned and was introduced to tallsicklyyellowboy. i stuck out my hand and he held it during the entire time it took his mother to say 'yes, she's one of my students, in my poetry class; quincy's my son. he did his work at temple in the english program and blah blah blah quincy did you something something? oh no, it was blah blah, yeah, that's right.. you need to talk to quincy. you need to talk to him. she needs to talk to you.'
so i break out of the handshake and make niceties for a minute or two. he actually seems like an intereting person; really pleasant personality. he gave me his phone number and email address, at his mother's urging. i doubt that i'll be contacting.
long story short, it was wack. i was glad to get home.
ive suddenly grown tired of typing here. im gonna get up and order pizza and straighten up this trough i call an apartment.
