Went to my first class of the year and I won't lie; It was jazz dance.
C'mon now, everyone needs a creative expressions class and who says I can't try and dance my way there? Plus, on a seventeen credit course load I am allowed one fun class.
(So true story...What I really wanted to take was pottery but I didn't have the schedule nor the money to make that work, so I rolled with the punches and took dance. I should have just coughed up the two hundred for the pottery.)
After finding the dance studio, which proved to be impressivly complicated, I sat on the floor and scoped everyone out. Should have stuck with the pottery class. I walked in with my "Save the Ta-tas!" Breast cancer awareness shirt and a pair of jogging shorts. Must have missed the memo about bringing your own leotard and leggings.
Primed and bred for dancing, those girls. Judging me up and down. Up and down.
And our first assignment was to create a piece of art that represented you as a person. I was scrambling. Honestly, can't we just bust out the jazz hands and top hats?
I think I'd be much more comfortable if everyone was wearing a top hat even in a judgmental dance class in one of the snootiest universities in Michigan. The dreaded day in my first German university class was better than that, at least there I couldn't completely understand their disdain for me. (And I got ice cream after.)
Major catastrophies, however, were adverted that morning, and pumped by how great I did NOT breaking any major bones I declared my second major in the afternoon. I am now a German/Program in the Environment major. Even got a sticker. It's official.
And walking out of the environmental offices I felt like all the Leotard-Strutting Girls and Bill Gate Jrs could keep judging. Because I have found a bit of my place now, as an elite major of PitE and I'm starting to feel like I belong here.
As I was showing it off, I was elated.( "Invasive species got nothing on me!") until a friend of mine looked at it and chuckled. "Huh, PitE. You're a 'pity' major. Way to go."
...Crap.
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