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Old.
I will never forget day one of the introduction of the Free University of Amsterdam, bachelor’s degree Communication and Information Sciences. It was the first day of my life that I, twenty-four years of age, felt rather old. While I was shuffling into the seminar benches with my cane in my trembling wrinkled hand, I was amazed looking at the highschool girls around me. As soon as I had gently placed my dentals on the table in front of me, I started watching them buzz around me, busily internally discussing whether this bag made them look a bit older, and whether or not this MTV agenda was as cool as that sort of popular dude had said on the television. These girls of course attracted the attention of the awkwardly sweating boys. ‘Sigh, such youngsters’ were the thoughts shooting through the head of this tough veteran. Until I started realizing that they were kind of looking back at me too, and their eyes had a different, yet very clear message: What’s happenin’ grampa?
The rest of the day I tried to focus on the information, which was hard enough, considering I just spent more than two years shutting up and looking pretty. I was trying to not to get distracted by the grown man sitting next to me, who was born in 1990, and the fact that I had more hair on my ass than he had on his chin. Yes little Timmy, it has been a while since I left highschool. No, sorry Timmy I forgot my pencilsharpener. Yes, I like your bag too.
Later in the afternoon I was tired but proud and satisfied. I might have missed my nap, but I had a lot more information. I decided to pee before returning to the train (on my age your bladder just isn’t what it used to be), although I had no idea where the toilet might be in this vertical learning factory. Without thinking too much I followed a guy in front of me who seemed to know where to go. For the second time this day I was receiving the same looks: what the hell is he doing here? While I was trying to figure out where the urinals were, I realized the little situation I was in. The guy looked back at me with a disturbed look, and the guy turned out to be a slightly masculine girl with very short hair.
I made my way out while mumbling an apology, and I decided to hold my pee till I was safe at home again.
| Print article | This entry was posted by Marius on 29/09/2007 at 07:30, and is filed under Standaard. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed. |
about 2 years ago
Its like sitting by the feet of a grandpa listening to his stories. Tell this tale in 50 years again my friend! haha
about 2 years ago
If I would be your teacher I would say – well written son
And – when you’re feeling old, how about me…?
about 2 years ago
HIHIHIH HIHIHIHIH IHHIHIHIHIHIH

AHAHAHH AHAHHA AHAHAH more hair on your but than he has on his chin…!!!! ahah ahahhahahahhah ahahah ah
I LOVE YOU MY BABY!!!
about 2 years ago
Dude,
try getting thirty…. ore worse thirty one…
about 2 years ago
Fantastisch stukkie ouwe!!:) Volgende week een biertje doen?
about 2 years ago
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xe-4e0cE7q0&mode=related&search=
about 2 years ago
BAIE BAIE goed jy skryf so boeiend ! `n ware storie verteller wens ek kon my woorde ook so neerskryf!!!
Baie groete dar!