Yesterday Kobi became a UQ science student. Masterpiece photoshop by Kobi.
Yesterday I became a UQ science student. For the best part of one hour I attempted to actively engage in a Chemistry lecture. Now to give this a little context; my science resume is not very extensive. In fact, from grade 10 onward I cut science from my life like it was a violent ex-boyfriend who needed a restraining order. However, the year we had together, we were good. I’m not meaning to brag; but I did get an A+ in year 10 Chemistry. With this kind of track record, I was fairly certain I was going to know whaddup in this lecture.
As someone who has only ever attended Journalism and Communication lectures; It felt pretty hot to be rollin’ with the cool chem kids. I actually physically felt I gained at least 27 IQ points as I entered the building which reeked so sweetly of deceased trees. Sorry to not be up wif da UQ building lingo (as a result I am just going to describe this building as “the one that looks as though it committed genocide to the globe’s pine trees.” or TOTLATICGTTGPT from here on out).
Not only did I feel atomically hawt to drawp just waltzing into the main lecture theare of TOTLATICGTTGPT, but I thought why stop here? Why not cruise up and bask in the shadows of the intellectuals who reside at the back of the lecture theater? At this point you are probably thinking; hold up Kobi sitting in the back of a lecture theater is not a feat in which you need to publicly announce in order to get some kind of praise/fresh snaps or a silver key to the city. But, fellow Rad Men; for me it felt like a mega achievement the kind of achievement that deserves monetary glory or perhaps even a bit of a knighting from Qween Liz herself. As an ex- journalism/communications student I was conditioned to believe that if you perched your rear in the back of a lecture it meant that it was time for the lecturer to get interactive with you. He was about to intellectually funk with you in front of a room of predominant strangers. You may as well have stood in the nude and held a sign that read pick me to answer your questions because I am an un-read mother-fucker. Having had this belief conditioned into me since March 2012, by the time I had overcome my debilitating fear of the back row I actually felt as though I had sprinted the Kokoda track carrying a semi overweight middle aged man; it was physically draining to say the least.
I would love to comment on the content of the lecture but TBH I don’t have much to compare it to. If the Professor could hear me he would have been overwhelming impressed with my knowledge of boiling point and my appreciation for the way he announced the word rigorous.
My notes from this lecture say it all; mmmmhm this Prof. has a sweet voice, he vaguely sounds David Attenborough, boiling point, HIS VOICE IS BEING WASTED HERE, I wish he could have read my childhood booktapes, did he just say DYKE POLE?, coffee is a vital part of everyone’s diet. Now plz, actual students who are actually enrolled in this specific subject don’t steal my notes. It isn’t fair on anyone is it?