Being a first-year in college (I recently learned that "freshman" is politically incorrect), I live in a dorm. I do not choose the people in my dorm, and I would not want to do so. The people in my dorm consist of the few friends I have made that are not involved in the arts. These people are my small glimpse of the real world.

That being said, the real world needs some damn help.

I will be the first to say that I hate when people digress about worldly issues, only to come to no conclusion and broken words. I strive daily to see the good in people if I can, and I think I do a fairly good job of that.

Now, I need to rant, so listen up.

I was walking past the lobby of my floor and greeted the usual group of friends found in the lobby, as I do most nights, when I was stopped by a kid on my hall. For storytelling purposes, let's refer to him as Racist James; this is his pseudonym simply due to the fact that he is racist and his name is James. Racist James stops me in my tracks to ask me something seemingly urgent...

"Hey Mac, did you watch the debate?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Did you see Hillary get her ass handed to her on a platter?"

"Actually, no. No I didn't, James."

"Oh, so you're not a Trump supporter."

I want to stop real quick to say that I have nothing against Trump supporters. I have family that supports Trump. I completely understand the appeal, I just wouldn't say that his priorities match mine. Continuing, Racist James said...

"You're lucky you're not a girl, cause I couldn't talk to a girl if she didn't support Trump."

This is the part of the story where Racist James earns the name Racist/Sexist James.

Mind you, this conversation is being held in front of many girls, none of which seem to be phased by the atrocities being spoken. I apologize in advance, but if you don't see how that is a sexist statement, I will not be able to have an educated discussion with you. Keeping that in mind...

"Oh, really? [Racist] James, I am shocked none of these girls are offended by that."

Then one of the girls looks up at me...

"Oh, you get used to it." As if to say, "Oh, silly Racist James. WHAT A CHARMER."

This is the point in the story where, as I recall it, I punched Racist James in the throat. Sadly, I believe that is only my memory of the situation. How it really ended was me throwing up my hands and blowing through the door, down the stairs, in fumes.

It hurts to hear that women are submitting to this behavior that surrounds them; it hurts me and I am not even the party affected.