I Always Thought That Whole College Thing Would Be A Lot Harder
I'm pretty sure a guy in my ward has met 50 Cent. You can trust I'll be getting the Full and Complete Story from him as soon as possible, because holy cow, 50 Cent freaks me out.
My first week of college (Okay, sidenote: as I was typing this, I wrote "high school" instead of "college." Weird. I haven't been in high school in years. I suppose it comes from a longing for those simpler days, because as drama-filled and uncertain as those days were, they absolutely cannot compare to the confusion that is Now.) went pretty well. It's hard getting back into the grind of homework, especially since my Brit Lit anthology seems to be caught in a weird timewarp dealy. Words have never taken that long to read before, ever. And creative writing looks like it'll be a failure of a class. I took it because I wanted to write everyday and call it "classwork" and walk around with a mischevious grin on my face like "I can't believe I'm actually getting University Credit to be doing this," but no. The professor spends fifty minutes telling us what a personal essay is. A PERSONAL ESSAY. Personal. Essay. It's an essay, and it's personal. What the heck, is my only response. WHAT THE HECK.
Oh, well. I'd rather be sitting in a classroom not paying attention to pointless lectures than out in the real world looking for one of those "career" dealies. Pfft. Career. How silly.
My first week of college (Okay, sidenote: as I was typing this, I wrote "high school" instead of "college." Weird. I haven't been in high school in years. I suppose it comes from a longing for those simpler days, because as drama-filled and uncertain as those days were, they absolutely cannot compare to the confusion that is Now.) went pretty well. It's hard getting back into the grind of homework, especially since my Brit Lit anthology seems to be caught in a weird timewarp dealy. Words have never taken that long to read before, ever. And creative writing looks like it'll be a failure of a class. I took it because I wanted to write everyday and call it "classwork" and walk around with a mischevious grin on my face like "I can't believe I'm actually getting University Credit to be doing this," but no. The professor spends fifty minutes telling us what a personal essay is. A PERSONAL ESSAY. Personal. Essay. It's an essay, and it's personal. What the heck, is my only response. WHAT THE HECK.
Oh, well. I'd rather be sitting in a classroom not paying attention to pointless lectures than out in the real world looking for one of those "career" dealies. Pfft. Career. How silly.
posted by juxtaposer at 11:20 PM
2 Comments:
Are you paying for those pointless lectures ?
What's your point? That I shouldn't complain? That I should rearrange my schedule and take all chemistry and civil engineering courses to get the most out of it? That the professors should be at my beck and call because I am PAYING THEIR SALARY? I like that last one.
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