I didn’t go to class yesterday. My sister kept me up too late finding Tori Amos bootlegs, but that’s really just an excuse. I never had any legitimate intention of going. My Writing For Television class was preempted (get it?) for individual conferences, but my conference isn’t until next week. My general thought was, “Jeez, even though it’s a bad day to miss African History, I really don’t feel like the shitty commute to go to a single class for an hour and fifteen minutes. I’ll just sleep in and stay home.” And it just happened that my sister came online with a bug up her ass to find a couple Tori songs she didn’t have.
Strangely, though, for the first time since I started cutting my African History class (and I’ve cut it many, many, many, many, many times since the beginning of the semester), I felt guilty about it. To the extent that, had I not been so tired that when I woke up at 8:30 and then fell right back asleep, I probably would have gotten up and gone to class. And when I didn’t and fell back asleep, when I woke up again, I felt bad all day.
I guess I feel guilty because of that sudden in-class rapport that I wrote about earlier (…or maybe I just thought about writing it…) when I read my little essays a few weeks ago and people realized that, despite the fact that I am in class maybe 30% of the time, I’m still doing the work and understanding the whole deal, in some cases better than they are. And now, despite the fact that I barely know these people by name, I feel guilty, like I betrayed them by not showing up for class.
Well, I guess if I’m gonna feel like every time I ditch now, it’ll be easier to stop.