Fresh Man

Worst day of my life.

I started my freshman year of Journalism at Empire State University the other day - keeping in mind that the term officially started a week ago. Maybe my lateness is a blessing in disguise given all the disappearances on campus lately, but - whatever.

My first class, Online Media and Publishing, went fairly smoothly, so I should've figured right then that luck was about to release me from its tenuous grasp.

In Foundations of Journalism, I made the mistake of sitting in a seat where the prof was able to point me out (out of a class of hundreds) and demand I answer some obscure question about journalistic integrity that I didn't know because I DIDN'T READ THE COURSE MATERIAL BECAUSE I DIDN'T GET THE COURSE READING LIST BECAUSE -

Okay, well, I've been really busy last week, what with, you know, playing photographer... for all the crimes. New York is... crimey. And it demands a photographer's eye.

Anyway, my prof bitched me out and made me leave class. There are plenty of people who'd love to be in my seat right now, she said, and I'm disrespecting not only her but everyone around me by being such an asshole. So, I packed up my stuff. And left. While everyone watched. In a huge lecture hall of about 300 students.

You know what would have been really awesome right then? Death.

I almost didn't want to go to my next class, but unless I wanted to major in Advanced Living In My Parents' Basement I knew I had to sit through at least one lecture today. And this I was dreading. Science credit, yawn. Superhuman Biology seemed like the less bang-my-head-on-my-desk option out of all the first year sciences, but... still, dudes. Biology.

Now, here's where things got just a tid strange. In my first two classes our profs did a little shpiel about the disappearances of students and gave - I assume administration-written - warnings to stay indoors after 7 pm, and not to traipse around campus like a fuckhead waiting to be kidnapped.

My superhuman biology prof?

Not a peep about it.

Somebody in the row behind me even brought up to our prof that there have been rumours that all the missing students have had some sort of low-level mutation. Professor Gein either didn't hear her or chose not to hear her, because the next thing out of his mouth was, "Turn to page 28. Today we're talking about basic energy manipulation."

His behaviour struck me as rather sad, actually. It almost seemed like a student he had taken a shine to was one of the missing persons - I suppose it was a sore subject. Poor guy.

Oh, my roommate ate all of my marshmallow fluff and my motor scooter died on me today. How the hell am I gonna get to work tomorrow? Fly?

God, Jim better vouch for me tomorrow if I'm late. He owes me*.











*not really

I don't think he realises it's a Jesus-y name

Through my astronomically impressive journalism skills I was able to score an interview and a picture with the superdude who saved that family from the fire last week.

His name is "Redeemer", as it turns out, and he says he's not aware of any religious connotation attached to the codename. I wasn't aware either, and it would be nice if I could fly by a church
without being pelted with tomatoes for once.

-He, sorry. It'd be nice if he could. He can fly. Not me.

I mean we've got that one lunatic running around (the honchos at the Sentinel are dubbing him Zealot - does every crazy in New York need a nickname?) declaring the end of the world and talking to God and shit, and yet Redeemer's the one they throw tomatoes at?

Anyway, in addition to the flight this guy can walk through shit. I was allowed one picture of him demonstrating his ability.



...holy shit, right?

In other news, the Daily Sentinel has been kinda hellish the days I've been in. They're still doing construction on the floor that Heavyweight (bah) demolished so Jim had to move into my office temporarily. I don't mind this, it's just that Jim's kind of an intimidating dude.

And like... a red head.

What do you say to red heads, really?