That Sound Your Stomach Just Made? Yeah.. I heard it.

If you have ever experienced exam week, you will know it is the moment where your world becomes focused; where your entire body reverts back to ancient survival methods and all your brain is trained to do is get you out alive. 

If you are like me, your brain has no such function, and you lumber around in a fog of denial and confusion. Moving farther and farther away from the river of enlightenment and drowning in the sea of procrastination. Having just gotten through the worst week of my life, I have acquired a few pearls of wisdom.

One thing you must know, is you are WRONG about your exam date unless you have had three people including your prof email/text you the information. It is always a good idea to set an alarm on your phone, leave posted notes everywhere and have one of your classmates text you the night before. (trust me that last one is essential)

On the day of my last exam, I woke up late. And I don’t mean the usual “Oh shoot, guess I’m going out without mascara” kind of late, I mean the screaming “HOLY MOTHER! I AM LAAATEE! I DON’T EVEN HAVE TIME TO PUT ON PANTS!” while running high speed down the stairs, kind of late. But of course, when you live in ‘The Peg’ and the normal temperatures are -40 and the streets look like this:

                       It is necessary to take a moment and clothe your bottom in pants.

Now, normally my brisk walk to the bus stop takes me about 8 minutes, give or take a few to account for lost footing and face plants. That day I had to make it in 5. I have never been athletically inclined. Ever. I have a hard enough time walking without tripping over my own feet let alone adding ice into the equation.

Which makes the first minor miracle of that morning that I only bailed once head-on into the snow without breaking any important body parts. And the second, that I was able to scream loud enough and run fast enough to get the bus drivers attention before he left without me.

Once my (fully clothed) bottom was safely seated in the front of the bus* I was able to try and re-teach my lungs how to breathe, while trying to defrost my nostrils from sticking together. 

*See Tips and Tricks to Transit Safety 

Now, not having even been able to properly clothe myself, it is obvious I had no time to eat breakfast either. Missing breakfast, along with the added bonus of waking up at the ungodly hour of 7:00 am makes my stomach hate me, and turns it into the raging fiery acid pits of hell. Leaving me sitting uncomfortably trying to focus on one spot on the wall so I will not be sick and get thrown off the bus and miss my exam. 

It is then, at the very next stop a lady gets on with a stroller. And (being in prime seating) sits next to me. Normally, babies are happy to go about their daily business. Eat, Burp, Sleep, Poop. Repeat. With not much thought in their minds besides: “Why is that person making weird faces at me? I would like that to stop.” and: “Look a bug, can I eat it?”, But no. The Galileo of babies had to sit next to me. 

This baby had an impenetrable gaze. No matter how long I looked away, or looked right at it, it just stared at me. Not blinking. It’s like it was seeing into my soul and judging me harshly. It was like it KNEW I was completely unprepared for my exam, and that instead of finishing my study notes I coped out and watched Inception. Not only was the unwavering glare of the small disdainful child uncomfortable, but it was doing nothing for my bus sickness. 

There is no eloquent way to say “Excuse me miss? But if you can’t get it to stop staring at me, I may vomit on your child. So sorry.” Trust me I tried to find one, nothing came to me. So I kept my mouth shut and stared back. You have never felt worse then when a  baby looks at you and seems to say, “Yes, even I am better then you, Mother pass me that bottle!” 

I was a minute away from losing the battle of don’t barf on the baby, when my stop arrived. 

Now it seemed a clear shot from there, just walk into the school, up two flights of escalators, and then write the exam! Until I got to my classroom and remembered that I was in a different room during the exam. Which lead to panic. This school is big. And my ability to get lost in more familiar areas has astounded many. Including myself. In a small moment of sheer luck, I spotted a familiar face. 

Brain:

That girl?

She.. SHE IS IN YOUR CLASS!

FOLLOW HER!

FEET! QUICKLY NOW! 

Stalking: 

to proceed in a steady, deliberate, or sinister manner 

“Famine stalked through the nation.”

I like a villain with a bad moustache, stalked my classmate all the way to the room on the fourth floor. She looked back with insecurity quite a few times, it almost made me think I DID have a bad mustache, so to make her feel comfortable I hid behind a locker once.

I did indeed stalk her like famine through a nation. I am not ashamed.

When finally seated -near the front as to ignore the glare from the stalked- I thought I would be able to silently await my peril in peace. Not so. 

The longest, loudest, angriest sound came from my stomach. Creating a giant disturbance and causing all 18 sets of eyes (including those of the prof) to be focused on me. To the rest of the world it was: BLURRRRPSAISOISBUBBLESNAP, But being well versed in the language of my stomach, I recognized it as FEED ME. 

Slouching in my chair to avoid the ‘what the HECK is trying to eat its way out of your stomach?’ looks, I tried to laugh it off.

Me:“Oops, missed breakfast this morning, good thing the exam hasn't started yet! Ha-ha.” 

Silence

(Sharp intake of breath in the room)

My professor stood up in complete shock and disgust.

Prof: You missed breakfast?

Me: I was running late.

Prof: Breakfast, is the most important meal of the day! You cannot take an exam on an empty stomach! How is your brain to be fueled?! You better hope this doesn’t affect your mark!

Me: No. I am not going to fail my exam because I didn’t have time to choke down a bowl of cheerios this morning. (I’m pretty sure. I hope.)

Quickly the room settled into the silence of exam tension after that. While most people tried to quickly grind that last tiny little bit of information into their brain, I began to fantasize about bowls of cheerios and their many flavors. Starvation was stalking me, just as I had stalked my classmate. It was getting to the point where I worried I might begin to nibble on the exam booklet when it was finally handed out. And then, I remembered. In my jacket, which had been laid for safe keeping on the desk ahead of me, in the pocket was a granola bar. I had been to nauseous to eat on the bus, but it was still in my pocket!

It is of course after resolving the goal of consuming said granola bar that a huge stack of paper THUDs onto my desk. 

Prof: Exam starts now. You have three hours to finish. No talking, texting, food or drinks.

Some days, life just seems out to get you. 

It took me a good twelve minutes to pull my tunnel vision from the pocket of my coat, and finally onto my exam where it belonged. And then another five to realize I could actually start. 

Three hours can pass in the blink of an eye when writing an exam. When it was all finally over, without ending in tears or an embolism, I did what any self respecting woman would do, ordered a plate of fries the size of my head.

One thing I learnt from this whole experience? 

Fries can fix anything.

Oh yes, and set your alarm.

The Trials of Being Broke, and Busted Zippers

(I realize that this could seem very offensive and racist but I promise you I am neither of those things and this is the retelling of an actual event)

Today, my fathers zipper broke on his hunting jacket. Being the amazingly caring and thoughtful daughter I am, I said I would take it to the “Stitch It” in the mall where I work.

Picture this: A professionally dressed girl with a chagrined face, walking to the seamstress, carrying a dirty camouflaged jacket. That literally has twigs sticking out of it. (I could not make this up)

I have about T-minus two minutes to make it to work on the other side of the mall and I have to stand in a line. The type of line that looks like its starting to move... but oh, wait, its not.

Checking my phone I realize in dismay that I am already late for work, and that I went on a spending spree the day before, that left my bank account at the nice round number of: One dollar and Fifty Seven cents. 

When it is finally my turn, I get up to the till and there is this small asian woman at the till. Her head barely clears the register. Her accent so heavy that I have to think really hard, and do a lot of guessing to decode the english from her accent.

Me: The zipper is broken, can you please replace it?

Stitch it Employee: It broken? I fix it no time.

Me: Great! Thank you so much! I’m actually late for wor....

Before I can even finish the end of my sentence she has scurried away from the till to her fixing table. She begins hacking away at pieces of the zipper, while my lateness for work builds up quickly.

Me: (Yelling over zipper hacking and grumbling people behind me in the growing line) Could I just leave it here and pick it up later?! I’m late for work!

Stitch it Employee: I finish now! You see zipper good as new! 

Me: It would really be better if I could pick it up later! I don’t have any money! Could you just replace the whole zipper and that way I can pick it up when it’s done?

To me, this seemed a logical enough idea. This was a win-win solution I had come up with. I would get to go to work-mind you very late, and then I would have the money transferred into my account. And she would get paid. I was quite proud of my problem solving skills. The Stitch it Employee, however, did not agree.

Stitch it Employee: Nonononononono! It more expensive that way! See? I fix it already and it cheaper! You pay now, take jacket now!

(In hindsight I can’t really blame her for not wanting to keep the jacket, it smelt funny and it had twigs all over it.)

The level of agitation coming from the line behind me was becoming unnecessary. They were not late for a still relatively new job! They were not being forced into paying for something with money they did not possess! I tried to reason with the Stitch It employee truly I did. Either she did not understand, or she enjoyed watching me suffer. And Oh, how she made me suffer.

Stitch it Employee: You pay now. See? I fix jacket and without new zipper! It works now, you pay me.

Me: (With growing frustration) I realize you fixed it already. That’s great. Thank you. But I’m already very late for work, can I please pick it up later?

Stitch it Employee: You here now! Pay now!

At that point she had already rung everything up, and had her hand out waiting for my card. The people behind me were becoming louder and unreasonable (this was not my fault) and I was becoming desperate to avoid humiliation. I begrudgingly handed over my shamefully empty card.

I punched in the required information with nervous fingers, and took a deep breath as the information took what seemed years to “Process...”. Then with the most shrill shrieking sound I have ever heard, the machine repeatedly beeped at me and flashed the word DECLINED.

Stitch it Employee: (Practically shouting) You declined. 

(Uncomfortable shuffling sounds in the line behind me.) 

Me: I know. I told you I don’t have any money.

Stitch it Employee: It only 11.18! You no have 11.18?? I save you money and you can no pay for 11.18?

(Let me just say that at this point she was annunciating well and projecting her voice, so that the people in the very back of the line could hear what was going on)

Now, I was going into meltdown mode. I was beginning to picture the Stitch it Employee as an angry monkey in a blue vest hopping up and down screeching. And myself as the person who was regretfully without a banana. My brain was not functioning properly it was only focusing on three things.

My Brain: late late late, embarrassment and shame, late late late

Finally I focused enough to thrust the twiggy ridden jacket into the Stitch it Monkey’s arms and say clearly:

I HAVE NO BANANAS! 

Which of course, was a mistake. And I didn’t mean it. Although it did make everyone stop talking so I had a chance to say this:

I mean... I have no money. Keep this here, and I will be back for it before you close to pick it up, at which time I will have the monkey. MONEY!

Then with what very little dignity I had left, I wrote down my name and cell number and slid it over the counter. I gathered myself and turned, onto the confused and evil glares from the line-waiters.

And speed walked the heck outta there.

I was twenty minutes late for work. At the very least my managers have a sense of humor.

Later...

Stitch it Employee: (with a raised eyebrow) Oh, You back...

Lesson: Always have money or bananas on hand when in Stitch It. Those Employees will fuck with your pride.