Fucking CAESAR.
Couldn’t just one more spot be there?
Double click, page refresh, narrow search — useless.
My shopping cart is all blue squares, I really don’t need this.
Delving through descriptions, swimming in CTECS, I’d finally found the one
At this point I barely mind that required reading books add up to 21.
Class that would permit me to have prized Fridays free.
Just one class this quarter that will let me keep my sanity.
I’d tear through readings, take notes till digits throbbed,
If I could just get the class, all problems would be solved.
Attend discussion section, shake the professor’s hand…
I’d snag a spot in front, a seat near where the professor stands.
But my fate seems tangled in the choice of her
Now I’m bathed in the pale blue light of my computer
That over-ambitious class-trolling girl,
Begging her whose time comes before mine to let this dream unfurl.
Mouse hand poised, trembling, on the golden button “enroll”
All I can do is wait, holding my breath, bracing to read that my class is full.
Maybe I’ll cut her Ethernet cord.
I’d be willing to battle, with a metaphorical sword
Will I sink to new lows or woefully select “waiting list”?
The yellow triangle holds a bittersweet offering, not as enjoyable with clinched fists.
Perhaps some sly intellectual persuasion is in order,
It could come down to a duel of Shakespearean proportions or a debate of political borders.
The professor knows me better; it’s not really much of a choice —
If I could only jump through the screen rather than spite this disembodied voice.
Though knowing the minx she’d slip between his sheets and well…
She’ll just end up stealing test answers, she should be confined in her cell.
Too bad Caesar’s no longer a lusty, toga-shrouded man,
But I guess academic integrity isn’t obvious with her mere class plan.
Maybe the roofies from that frat party will make her register a bit too late!
Surely she’d register late if she was found out and became a fugitive of the state.
But it’s of no use, pre-requites apply, and “whoring” just won’t qualify.
Geez! The injustice of today if the class were to become hers rather than mine.
Why am I so bitter? Without this 200-level I’ll survive,
But on second thought, I guess if I don’t get it, it won’t be the end of my life.
Simply struggling with mountains of soul-crushing course packet reading.
I should leave this class to her, the workload in the description seems rather misleading.
I’d have that seemingly elusive concept of “free time,”
After all this trepidation it’s probably just a sign
I would find that mere naps don’t nearly compensate for true sleep,
I have heard that the professor sets impossible deadlines to meet
Stop forgetting what it’s like to actually sit down to eat…
I bet she’s second guessing, too nervous to take a seat.
Alas! I’m not a quitter. And I’ve learned to live without such pleasantries.
It could be much easier to give up and start to believe these reveries.
One minute till registration, nibbling my nails, tensely tugging strands of hair,
Just a few more minutes and I’ll finally be there, the coveted class in my snare.
My bug-eyed stare scanning gray columns of the shopping cart — but where?
The beautiful green circle is still glowing there.
There! I’m checking that box; if my laptop fails me now I swear I’ll —
My hand poised on the track pad — if my computer crashes now I’ll–
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If I could only jump through the screen rather than spite this disembodied voice.
First lines written by Rachel Hoffman. Indented lines written by Lindsey Kratochwill.