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| quote: | Originally posted by Azareal
Story time!
2 years ago, during the last few weeks of semester on campus, I was busy taking some time off from a busy schedual of drawing naked ladies and drinking beer (art major here). Anyhow, I'm sitting at the Campus Cove in front of the big screen Marvel Vs. Capcom 2 they have set up. I'm kicking ass and taking numbers, and for some reason, I decide to look down at my feet.
Nothing there. It took me a second to realise that there should have been something there. My bag.
My bag with 96 cds. Dj headphones. A brand new discman. A digital video camera I had taken out from the computer lab. A digital still camera (from the same lab), and a still 35 mil camera. I also had a complete semesters worth of notes and a 200 $ textbook.
Needless to say, I freak out. My entire fucking life is pretty well in that backpack. Blood is rushing, adrenaline flowing, and I have nowhere to go, nothing to do. I flip, spin around, and punch a cement wall. The good news - there isn't any. The bad news? Over the loud arcade music and noise, I hear a snap. It brings me back to reality, and I realise that the bastard that took my backpack might still be around.
I rush out of the arcade, step outside, and across the field, I see some short punk running towards Cragie Hall with two black backpacks. I have (had a black backpack). I also (at 6'3) have long legs. I chase him down, knock him to the ground, and indeed - his one extra backpack is mine.
At this point, I'm straddling him, looking to break his face - he's waving an arm across his face, pretty well begging for mercy - claims he was taking this backpack he 'found' to the security offices. Chances of this being the truth? Zero - the security offices are right beside the Campus Arcade.
Anyhow, I want to kick the shit out of this guy - and I start laying a few punches, and realize that its hurting me like mad to punch. I look down at my hard - which by now is the size of a basketball, and step up off the sorry son of a bitch. I tell him that if I ever see him again, I'll prolly kill him. 6 hours later at the hospital, I get my hand rebroken (reduced) and slapped in a cast.
Suffice to say, I can't really say I learned much of a lesson. I couldn't draw for ages, and while I shouldn't have hit that cement wall, considering how much that backpack was worth, I can still see how it makes sense for me to respond in that way. Will I ever hit a wall again? Possibly - this time, I hope to lead with the left though.../
~Azareal |
hey cool ya go to the same school as me. me first year sci
ive never been really really mad. I once punched a wall, but usually loud agreesive music helps for me or driving fast.
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HOw do you ...
