No, I have not suddenly skipped multiple grades and gotten myself accepted to a college. But one of the French words for middle school is collège, so you see, I am in college if you interpret it that way.
I've heard several mentions of college recently. The first one was in debate club, which I went to as usual on Wednesday. It's kind of a regular activity of mine now. I still don't really say anything, but I listen to other people's opinions. This week it didn't go that well. People didn't seem particularly interested in any topic, so the topic kept changing. At first it as whether health care should be free for everyone, and then folks starting talking about alcohol and how it's more socially acceptable than smoking even though alcohol is still bad for your health. Someone brought up the point that smoking affects the people around you, but if you're drunk it's not going to damage someone else's liver (at least, I hope not). I think it's because people think alcohol is good for your health, at least, people say red wine has benefits. But I still don't approve of wine. When I ask my dad what it's like, he says it's like grape juice except with alcohol, but then, couldn't you just drink grape juice? (And I hear that liquor has a bitter taste. I don't understand why you would want it.)
Then my old teacher, whose classroom the debate club is held in, noticed a girl. She is a regular to the debate club, and that day, she happened to be wearing a college sweatshirt. (I believe it was a UC Berkeley shirt, but I can't be sure) The teacher asked her, "What are you doing wearing a Berkeley sweatshirt? Look at her, the girl who has been saying she's going to go to Harvard." Apparently it was a sibling's sweatshirt. "So you're supporting a sibling? Clearly an inferior sibling..." (Berkeley isn't a bad college, but I suppose Harvard is still considered harder to get into) "I've gotta get a picture of this." The teacher whipped out his cell phone and was trying to take a picture of the girl wearing a Berkeley sweatshirt, but she kept hiding it. My teacher called for back-up, which happened to be one of my friends. She ran over and kind of half-tackled the girl, and the teacher managed to snap a picture. "Not very good, but I think you can tell it was her," he remarked.
Later that week, my history teacher (let's refer to him as JB, it's tiresome having to say "my teacher" every time) told us about his college times. He said that there were three floors on his dorm building. The first floor was filled with guys and the second and third floor were filled with girls (which was pretty nice for a freshman, so he said). JB says that when you go to college, you fill out a form with who you want to be with as a roommate. Either you can name a specific name (if you have someone in mind already) or you can describe what kind of person you're looking for or what kind of person you DON'T want. JB was pretty much fine with anything but he did say he wanted a non-smoker. But most of the people in his dorm building are smokers, so he ended up with a guy called Doros from the island of Cyprus who is 24 years old because he had to serve in the Greek military.
There are a variety of people in JB's dorm, but he says they all kind of got along, despite their differences. He had a friend by the name Sid (or is it Syd? I have no idea, but I'm guessing). One day Sid asked him for a favor. He wouldn't tell JB what it was, but he told JB to take a nap, and then be awake at a certain time. So JB did as he was told and took a nap. Then Sid barged in and said, "Are you ready? ...Could you put on some nice clothes, like slacks and dress shoes?" JB replied, "No, I don't have anything like that." Sid sighed. "Fine, that'll do." Sid had gathered a total of 12 people for this favor. Sid knew someone who was a valet, and his friend had called him, saying that they needed 12 more valets for a party at the W hotel in Los Angeles because some valets had just canceled. So the college students went to Los Angeles to be valets for the night.
Out of a total of 40 or so valets, only 6 of them, including JB, knew how to drive stick shift. JB had been arguing with the others earlier over whether the tips should be split evenly or if everyone should keep their own tips. Now JB's decision to keep his own tips was coming in handy. He had more opportunities to make money since 34 people could drive with automatic only. The first car that came up was taken by him. It was a Jaguar (I forget what kind exactly), which had been JB's dream car. He said that he didn't have pictures of girls in his room - he had pictures of cars like that Jaguar. The old gentleman who owned the car said to JB, "If you crash this car, I'll kill you." JB responded, "Oh, don't worry, if I crash this car, I'll kill myself." Unfortunately, the story ended there because the bell rang.