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In the spring of 2004, my junior year at UT, I saw that the History of Russia Since 1917 fit in my schedule. Most of the students had taken the previous course, the History of Russia to 1917, the previous semester and as such all knew each other. I had been heavily involved in audio production classes the previous fall and therefore lacked my classmates' background and familiarity with each other. I didn't mind that except for the fact that I had no passing familiarity with the guy I sat next to all semester, College History Class Guy (CHCG). I noticed CHCG on the first day of the semester and kept right on noticing him. He was intelligent, serious about his studies, polite, and cute. He spoke up a lot in class, to the extent that he was a bit annoying, but he always made good points, plus he was polite and a bit shy, so I was forgiving. I was not, however, bold enough to speak to him beyond the most basic "Thank you" when he handed me a worksheet that was being passed down our row. I was enrolled in an audio post production class that semester, which ate up a considerable chunk of my time. I used to head to class straight from spending the wee hours of the morning in the RTF building working on some audio post production project. In the minutes before class, I would sit in my chair and put labels on the tapes I'd just dubbed or something, and I invariably collected funny looks from my classmates, particularly CHCG, who had the best view. I felt a little self-conscious, but also just a little bit proud. I hoped my small collection of audio gear would prove a conversation starter, but alas, he never said anything. A few weeks into the semester, I began dating College Pothead. I felt awkward and uncomfortable sitting next to the obviously better choice in my history class twice a week, but damn it, the better choice hadn't asked me out. I dumped CP fairly quickly, of course, but alas, I was still too shy to say anything to CHCG. Midway through the semester, I made a slight spectacle of myself. One of my audio classmates and I were working on Foley for some film had checked out a bunch of gear from the department's equipment checkout, including a DAT, a long shotgun, a couple of cardiods, and of course a bunch of XLRs. I had all the gear on me, and we had arranged to meet outside my history class that morning for me to hand it over to him so he could use it for a different project. Naturally, he stood me up, and I had to lug the enormous collection of crap around all day long. Considerably annoyed, I marched into my history class—well, staggered under the weight of all my boxes and cables—and collapsed, breathless, into my seat. I caught my breath and arranged my shitload of audio gear in a small mountain around my feet, finishing just as the professor dumped a bunch of worksheets on the edge of the long table right next to me. Everyone in the class had to come and pick up a worksheet, and everyone in the class tripped over all my crap. Awkward. Sadly, even that did not provoke CHCG into speaking to me. Damn it. Two shy people can never get together unassisted, apparently. I once saw CHCG on campus outside the confines of our history class. I was walking toward the Tower from the RTF building, and I was just past the biology greenhouses when I passed him. I didn't recognize him until it was too late, but apparently he had seen me, for just as he passed me, I heard him almost say something. Apparently he saw that I hadn't seen him, for he said nothing and went on his way. 'Crap,' I thought, but I never mentioned it to him. The semester ended uneventfully, and I did not see him at all throughout my senior year, despite looking for him. I didn't dare look him up via the UT Directory since, thanks to the Boom Operator and the Sound Designer, I had learned my lesson by that time. At this point, this story segues into its post college continuation. |