It is definitely a Monday. I forgot about Mondays in Cambodia. Mondays don’t have the same disruptive power in Asia that they do in the States, I’m convinced. Especially after today.
I started getting a cold on Thursday night when I got home. I wasn’t feeling well, had a little cough and a headache. But what else would you expect? I had two Thursdays last week- that’s bound to make you sick somehow. Over the weekend, what was once a fledgling sinus headache matured into a full-grown immortal mucus monster that made its way to my nose (and very often out my nose), down my throat and has now taken up residence in my lungs, making me cough the loud, phlegmy kind of cough that flays your throat until it is raw.
After saying good morning to my new internal resident and somehow peeling my exhausted body from my warm cozy bed, I began to make my way to my first classes at MSSU since being home. On the way, I noticed a Duquesne (yes, that is actually a word, a street and town name to be exact) cop hanging out at the one and only roundabout in Joplin (well, I guess its technically in Duquesne, hence the Duquesne cop). These cops are notoriously brutal, and since I wasn’t feeling well and it was a Monday, all I could think about was NOT getting pulled over. No really, that’s all I could think about and ended up curbing the median in the roundabout and getting pulled over by the cop just as MSSU was in my sights. Apparently I also need a front license plate, my back left taillight is out, and my proof of insurance is from 2009. Somehow, I got off with a warning.
Next, I trekked 87 miles from the far parking lot to my classes in Webster Hall. Today I had the always riveting Gender Roles class. As fate would have it, my professor forgot her lecture notes and decided to wing it freestyle (Freestyling, free…freestylin. Thank you Flight of the Conchords. That’s kind of what she sounded like, though.) What topic did she choose to inspire us with today? Prostitution. Really??? I think I’d rather get the ticket from the cop in Duquesne. The class discussion involved one man talking about how he and his football buddies visited a brothel in Austria and could pick whatever girl they wanted (but he was married, so he didn’t participate, and then absolved himself of all guilt), a girl talking about how prostitution should be legalized as a protective measure for women, and the professor waxing eloquent about how morality is relative and we shouldn’t judge others decisions. I didn’t know whether to cry or vomit or walk out or to tear them all apart with my bare hands (or my vicious rhetoric.) I am a little embarrassed to say that I was so paralyzed with rage and sadness and disgust that I sat and did nothing until she let the class leave.
Welcome Home and Happy Monday.