Mike is the Rulest

Other than coming face to face with a possible future version of myself as a teacher, my first class back at college was pretty uneventful.

Except for the speaking thing. The thought of speaking up in class made me clench up like I was passing kidney stones. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that, in January 2006, talking in class WAS a lot like passing kidney stones. Horrifyingly painful and with a trail of blood behind it.

The next semester was better. I had a full course load and a summer off behind me.

That, and it was the semester I met Mike.

I think I borrowed a Scan-Tron sheet from her and copied her notes. She missed Halloween, obviously not taking her educational obligations seriously. I probably let her copy mine from that night.

Since anthropology, we’ve endured never ending fiction classes, lesbianism and Frankenstein, the Bear and his fear of the N word and our endless giggling, and the writing center.

She’s endured my really bad jokes.

I’ve endured her busting out in song in the middle of semi-serious conversations.

But until today I never really realized how much Mike rocks. I mean, I knew she rocked. I just didn’t realize the depth to which she rocked.

I’ve been having a moment. Many moments. Caught between back-to-back Bear finals and three other papers, I haven’t had a chance to start on my postmodern one. Other than the week’s worth of research and the rough draft, that is.

For the past few days, I’ve been looking for my book, The Dodecahedron. I couldn’t find it anywhere. I called bookstores to see if it was in stock; I was going to replace it. I’ve tried getting in touch with classmates who aren’t doing theirs on this book.

No go.

The paper’s due at 2 pm on Monday. I work this weekend. To say that I’m a little bit veklempt is an understatement.

Mike, I might mention, actually doesn’t live here. She lives about 2 hours away. I actually caught up with her this evening after an all-too short nap after work.

She offered to meet me halfway to bring the book.

I won’t say that I broke down in tears. I won’t say that I was so grateful that I couldn’t even bear to accept her offer.

I will say I said “Give me 30 minutes, and I’ll call you.”

I will say I found said book, after four plus days of looking, within 15 minutes of setting a deadline.

And I will say I learned just how much she rocks: Either she’s very kind, or magic.

I’m thinking a bit of both.


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