(This post offers a more detailed account of my granola-throwing escapade, dating back to about a month ago. It uses that particular anecdote as a main point that supports my argument- don’t get attention by being stupid)
Okay, so, guys. I’m the kind of person that really doesn’t need attention. You know why? Because whenever I get it, it means I’m making a fool of myself. I’ve learned to shut the hell up.
Today in Chemistry class, I fell asleep after finishing my worksheet. My teacher’s okay with sleepy kids on Fridays. But some other kid had to wake me up when we started doing note-taking, and my (female) teacher asked if I was with the rest of them.
“Yessir. MA’AM. GOD.”
The class was quiet for a split-second, and then they burst out laughing and I hid my face in my arms. I didn’t talk for the remaining half hour.
Some people need attention, and that’s okay too. Some people need to be looked at and positively idolized by other people, glorified, admired- and that’s not okay, because really that’s just creepy.
I notice a lot of (I’m sorry, yes) freshman delinquents try getting attention in the most obnoxious and socially wrong ways. I make friends with the more socially acceptable freshman.
NOT THOSE WHO TEND TO THROW FOOD.
At lunch, directly behind us sits a table chock full of freshmen. For the most part (a select few are quite alright) they’re crazy, rambunctious, and infinitely distasteful. They’re incredibly juvenile, and the guys will do anything to get a girl’s attention. As if their peach fuzz wasn’t enough.
So they throw food, when the administrators aren’t looking. They literally just lob it all over the effing place. A lot of it hits our table.
On one particular day, a tater tot landed on our table. Someone said “Oh, that’s nice, you’re just, just gonna douche us over like that, yeah?” to no one in particular. I turned around to see if I could see the person who threw it, but another person sitting near me told everyone the guy who’d done it was acting all incognito.
Well, a table past us threw something at them, and everyone over there thought it was me, right? They were like “I saw you turn around, idiot! I saw you throw it, you’re so bad at hiding it!”
It wasn’t me. But I was pissed, and this goofy-looking, curly- and mud-coloured-haired kid was testing the waters. So when a whole bunch of other kids started throwing things back at them, I pelted the curly-haired kid in the back with a granola bar.
Literally, people around me died laughing. The freshmen were devastated, and they started yelling obscenities at anyone and everyone- I really didn’t care, at least I’d done something. The administrators really don’t even care about thrown food, so I wasn’t worried, and there was no punishment for it. But I’d really popped that kid’s trunk, really sanded his two-by-four.
At the end of lunch, when everything had calmed down, he approached me and held out my granola bar. “I think you dropped this,” he said, a bit angrily. I took it back and tore it open, and bit a chunk off right there. I hit him on the shoulder playfully and said “Thanks, man.”
And I haven’t had problems since, somehow.
Don’t throw food if you need attention. Play a saxophone, ride a unicycle, hell, strip down to your shorts for all I care- just don’t throw food at me.
aestheism, not atheism.