I don’t share well.   I have very few memories of my preschool and kindergarten years, but it couldn’t have been pretty.  Because when it comes to sharing, how can I word this… I’m a BITCH.  And I am A-OK with that.

One of the classes that I am taking this semester uses course packs, which are basically articles pulled out of books, magazines, etc that are copied and bound into a “course pack.”  They cost an assload because they actually pay royalties, and are non-returnable.  So most students pretty much hate them, although in this class I will admit that it would have cost far more to buy all the zillion books that we are reading passages from.  It’s so much that the professor split the course pack into two volumes.  Total cost: $75.  FOR COPIES!  But, whatever.

On Tuesday we were scheduled to switch to the second volume.  I decided to bring both volumes just in case, and sure enough, we used the the first one through the whole lecture.  Guess who didn’t bring both course packs?  About half the class.  This is a 500-level course, folks!  Everyone in there has had a bare minimum of 2 previous semesters in college.  So the professor (who is sooo enthusiastic about the subject material and is totally adorable – I love her!) says, “If you didn’t bring the coursepack be sure to look on with someone!”  So some girl automatically shoves her desk right up against mine.  Doesn’t ask, just assumes that of COURSE I’ll happily share.

I was not pleased.  Have I mentioned that I also have personal space issues?  As in, everyone else better keep the hell OUT of my personal space?  But, believe it or not, I sucked it up and shared my freakin’ coursepack.  Now it’s not just that I’m stingy, but I usually write all over my coursepack, shuffling between it and my notebook.  Hard to do when some chick is hanging over the page.  But I dealt with it.  I was so proud of myself.

Today, we did switch to volume 2.  It has been available at the bookstore for over 2 weeks and the prof has been reminding us every single class that we need to purchase it.  You’ll never guess what happened.  As soon as we begin class 4 or 5 students (out of 20, so that’s like 25% of the class) start whining that they don’t have the money for the coursepack blahblahblah.  It’s $31 people, and you knew this at the beginning of the semester!  So what happens when we start class?  Some guy scoots right on over toward me and says “Can I look on with you?”

AAARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!  The look on my face must have been priceless.  I have no poker face, even when I try (which is not often).  I tried to suck the evil laser beams back behind my eyeballs as soon as I could, but I think he got singed.  I very begrudgingly said “Yes,” and he kept more distance than Tuesday’s sharer all class period. I don’t know how he managed to read the type from that far away, but, not my problem.

Maybe that makes me a bitch, but I don’t care.  It’s not like I have tons of cash lying around – my husband is a grad student and I’m unemployed working on a second BA.  We NEVER go out and mostly buy only the necessities.  If we go to a movie (always a matinee), it’s a big deal.  And you know what? I paid for my damn coursepack and NO I DON’T WANT TO SHARE WITH YOU!!!!  GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!!!!!!!!

On another note, my Tar Heels are playing in the NIT championship game tonight.  If they lose, I might cry.  If they win, it will officially be the weirdest season ever.  Please Heels, please…

“For I’m a Tar Heel born and a Tar Heel bred and when I die I’m a Tar Heel dead!  So it’s rah rah Carolina-lina, rah rah Carolina-lina, rah rah Carolina, GO TO HELL DUKE!

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