To Flirt With Discipline

One | Falling

I had always considered myself to have more discipline than most.

But as I sit here in this lecture, I find that I may have been wrong.

My eyelids are heavy, and I find myself fighting a losing battle against the urge to sleep rather than paying attention to the monotonous voice of the professor that also looked like he was fighting a losing battle, but against death instead of sleep.

I always tried to not remember the fact that I was paying thousands of dollars to attend Southern Chicago University only to have to sit through lectures about subjects that I couldn't give less shits about. I thought I had completed my tenure of learning useless information after graduating high school, but turns out I truly won't escape it until the next two years pass.

"That's all for today guys. I'll see you all next week, hopefully well-rested." The professor states sarcastically.

I jet up from my seat quickly, slinging my backpack and winter coat over my shoulder as I rush out of my final class of the week.

The Chicago winds hit me the second I leave the general studies building and begin my walk home. We are lucky to have a couple months before snow turns the walk turns into a trudge. September is always cold in this state, but I've had almost my entire life to get accustomed to it. I watch as freshman shiver as they make their rounds, hands shoved deep into the crevices of their pockets, heads hanging low as they speed walk to each of their respectable classes. I scoff, a puff of air leaving my mouth at the action, remembering when I had first experienced my first snowfall on campus, knowing they don't stand a chance when November comes along.

I pull out my keys once I make it to the off-campus apartment building that I live at with my three roommates. Third-years don't tend to live on campus, at least not if they want any semblance of a social life.

I push open the stubborn door, instantly greeted by the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air and the sounds of Taylor Swift's Enchanted playing in the kitchen, the result of the cinnamon buns resting on the marble counter made by Calliope, one of my roommates.

Calliope always made some sort of dessert on Friday evenings. Majority of her classes were in the studio art building, which was the closest campus building to our apartment, and since she was a morning person, she was usually done with classes by around 1-2pm. So she'd always come back and bake something for us.

We usually all went out on Fridays, a college staple, and she was convinced that by making some sugary dessert, it would prepare our stomachs, and livers, for the night ahead of us. I never argued with her philosophy. After all, who could say no to weekly cinnamon buns or sugar cookies or Funfetti cupcakes?

"Please help yourself Josie! We will begin getting ready in about an hour an, and everyone needs to be full before we begin getting plastered off our asses at the pregame, which will begin in about two hours! I already made Blancs eat and Serena said she was gonna grab food on the way back from class and just meet us at the function!" Calliope yelled, despite her being a solid ten feet away from me.