Ladies, man
Everyone remembers their freshman year fondly (if you don't, well, I feel sorry for you). But do you remember that annoying girl named Jenna (or Jenny) who seems to be on every floor? I do.
I had one right across from me.
Jenna was in a sorority and operated under the assumption that I was some kind of lab experiment gone wrong. She wasn't entirely mistaken. Our only interactions consisted of her looking at me as if I were a stain on the carpet she couldn't quite identify. Mind you, chicks loved me. This boyish charm was lost on Jenna...never quite figured out why, maybe because of what happened later (?).
The conflict began over noise complaint (its a dormitory ffs). It was a Wednesday night. I was "studying" for my Psych 101 midterm, which involved listening to a three-hour lecture on "Sound and Sych" (it's psych, but the professor thought he was clever) mechanisms at 4x speed.
At around midnight, Jenna ignores privacy like the healthcare CEO and barges into my already half-opened door; she looked like she was about to commit a felony.
“What the heck is that noise?” she yelled. “It sounds like you’re waterboarding a family of squirrels in there. I’m trying to read my art history textbook, and all I can hear is squeaking.”
“That’s some accusation,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “And for the record, waterboarding is against the Geneva Convention and, more importantly, the university’s housing agreement. This isn’t torture. It’s a graded component of my Psych 101 project.”
Jenna stared blankly. “A project? It sounds like a broken smoke detector having a seizure.” I chuckled, didn't expect her to be quick-witted.
“The sound,” I explained, as if to an angry child, “is a glossary of psychoanalytic terms being played at a hyper-compressed temporal frequency. It’s for my extra credit paper: ‘Subliminal Auditory Saturation and Its Effects on Dream States.’ It’s a new field. Very cutting edge.” She took her time to process the fancy words, half of which I made up on the spot. “I don’t give a shit about your subliminal whatever,” she shot back. “Wear headphones, you fucking weirdo.”
“Ah,” I said, shaking my head gravely. “I can’t. That would render the primary research motive invalid. See, the experiment requires ambient environmental diffusion to test for passive bystander absorption.”
Her face went from angry to confused. “Passive what now?”
“You’re my control group. My project isn’t just about me; it’s about how the sound affects the immediate vicinity. I’ve been keeping a log.”
“A log? A log about me?”
“Of course,” I said, turning back into my room and picking up a notebook. I flipped it open. “Let’s see… Tuesday, 10:42 PM: Subject J exhibited what I’ve termed ‘Aggressive Door Closing.’ Wednesday, 11:37 PM: Subject J initiated direct verbal contact, displaying heightened agitation and what appears to be a deep-seated animosity towards small woodland creatures. The data is fascinating.”
She looked absolutely horrified. “You’re writing about me in your creepy nerd diary?”
“It’s not a diary, it’s an observational academic undertaking,” I corrected her. “Actually, truth be told, it’s not really fair that I’m the only one getting extra credit for this. You’re doing half the work, Jenna.”
“What? “I’m not doing any work,” she replied, but I ignored her and continued, “Oh, yes, you are.” You’re providing me with the data I need. So, let's do this: you are no longer an ‘unwitting control subject’ but a willing ‘co-participant.’ You’ll receive half of the credit. All you have to do is sign a consent form and keep a journal of your dreams.”
“Nothing serious,” I added. “Just standard psych stuff.”
Jenna just stared, then shook her head, “Screw you, dude” and slammed her door. I think she meant to say, "You are so smart and handsome." The Auditory saturation was working on me, probably, I must have misheard her.
The next morning, I slid a folded piece of paper under her door. It was a homemade consent form I’d typed up, full of official-looking, completely meaningless clauses.
At the bottom, I had attached a sticky note:
“Per our verbal agreement last night. Please sign and return by 5 PM so I can add you to the project roster. Don't want you to miss out. P.S. Please find your first dream log attached. Be as detailed as possible.”
The hallway was quiet for the rest of the week. I took it as a sign that she was taking her new responsibilities seriously.
