Saturday Mornings, or I am Too Nice

Normally, consciousness at almost-9 on a Saturday is ungodly. In this case, it's my third hour of what must be insanity or masochism. I prefer the latter.

Why, you ask? Because I couldn't get enough of Saturday morning debate tournaments in high school-- getting up at 5:30, meeting at school at 6:30, and coming home at midnight-- that I wanted to judge them for slave wages and junk food! So here I am.

I am currently housing two debaters from my old school, and in exchange for the pleasure of experiencing free coffee and King Pin's new trans-fat-free donuts in Dwinelle while I twiddle my thumbs waiting for a ballot, I get to remember why it is that I don't schedule classes before 10.

On the other side of the fourth wall, however, I've found that it's more difficult to meet people. Whereas as a debater I debated one or more persons and could actually interact with them before, during, and after a round, as a judge I'm usually by myself or with parents who speak little to no English (but who nod vigorously often). The cute ones usually take themselves too seriously.

I like judging much better than debating, mostly because I can observe things in other people that I could rarely observe in myself, but it annoys me how judges are treated like toddlers because those running the tournament and those participating in it cater to the lowest common denominator: toddlers.

Anyway, I posted because 1) I didn't post yesterday and Kyle got bored, and 2) I went to the judges' room at 7:30 as agreed and wasn't even called for the first round. This was a moment I had wished Berkeley were more like Harvard, who I hear posts both debate pairings and judge assignments the night before so that people like me don't sit around eating all the donuts and scribbling on the desks.

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