So I was in my Writing class this afternoon. . .

I really hate these activities. You know the type. Stupid "Lets get to know each other" activities. The first game we play, is moving the desks to the outside, and sitting in a what I call, therapy circle, and start by the teacher (not professor or Doctor) saying his name, then the next person saying the name of everyone in the circle before saying their own name. Of course, I am sitting towards the opposite side of the circle from where they start. So I have to remember and relay about twelve other people's name, the majority of whom, I will never see after this class, let alone care what their name is an hour after class. The very last person in line is this guy who is about 35. He has a nickname. He missed every single name in the room but about 3. His excuse as he laughed like the idiot that he was, was that he smoked a lot of pot in high school. His nickname, which I can only assume is self-given, is Loop. Good Lord I think to myself. It is going to be a long term.The next group activity (minus the "hi my name is" tags) is to stand up say our name and where we were born, then tell a story rich with images, about an event in our past. Then a story about something that happened today. You can imagine how well this was going to go. So everyone takes their turn, and it is pretty excrutiating. The nursing students are telling stories about a person close who died, and supporting each other. The only two stories of notable mention were actually pretty funny, not the stories themselves, but the circumstances in which they were relayed. A kid about 18 stands up and describes a trip on shrooms that he has recently taken, as if we are supposed to be fascinated by this idiots experimentation with hallucinogens. He sits back down with a semi-tough look on his face as the elderly gentleman wearing a Rent-A-Center racing hat heads for the front of the room. His story is that of being a narcotics detective in Chicago. Numnut shroom muncher next to me is hanging his head now, his tough guy facade all blown to hell, now he just looks like another doper idiot. People who glamorize drug use push me right to the edge.The very last person to go was a shy, somewhat attractive girl, who was trying real hard not to have to endure this torture by going last. Her story was one of her stuffed raccoon getting thrown into the Grand Canyon by her brother as a kid. The very first thing I thought of was Jerky. But this is a story for later. I hate Community College.