bitterdiva

One for the books

Classes have begun again and thus far it’s been an interesting semester. My English Composition I class is full of teachers and idiots. I’m the most intelligent person in the class and the professor has developed his own method of creating an outline for research papers. Speaking of which, the basis of the class is creating a research paper based on our own lives. Now, I’m not a pedant, nor am I an English major or a paper whiz but the last time I recall, a research paper is objective not subjective. Since when does my life and opinions count as objective material? This guy reminds me of Harvey Lipschultz from Boston Public but less racist and more intelligent. He also seems to enjoy hearing himself speak.

The focus of my paper thus far is going to be website design/development as it pertains to writing and blogging. After all this time of hearing Kristian moan and wail about various articles in various media formats of the blogging genre, I’m writing my own paper about the matter. I may change this however; I was originally going to focus on the actual development of a piece of literature by myself but my professor seemed more interested in the website area of it. I told the class that most of my ideas come from my very surreal wacked-out dreams and my professor immediately asks if they are fueled by beer. I have now been pegged the freakshow of the class. Eh, every class has to have one.

Last night I was trying to escape my office quickly to venture to my website design class when waiting for the car to warm up in my office’s lot I realize that my schedule is currently sitting on my desk. Unfortunately I couldn’t retrieve it for after 5 pm the doors lock, every single one of them - the front door, the downstairs door to the upstairs door, the upstairs door, the elevator, and the side doors. I just go to the building where I’m supposed to be and realize I don’t remember which room my class is in.

Frantically running around, I ask every person I meet if they have my class and no one does. I call Kris from a pay phone because dummy me forgot her cell phone at home. I get the number, go to the class and see it’s been moved to across campus in the proper building for a computer class. Arriving 10 minutes late, I find a seat and log onto my account. Twenty minutes in I start thinking, if a web programmer doesn’t know how much information is stored on a CD in comparison to a floppy there’s a problem here. I bring up the schedule online and see that the class I am in is not Website Design and Development but Personal Computer Concepts.

Thankfully, Trillian is installed on my account there so I ask Kris to check my schedule again since I am apparently in the wrong class. Thinking I was joking, since most of my classes are waaay to easy for me, he just sits there playing on the computer. After 10 minutes I message him again asking for the answer and he tells me he thought I wasn’t serious. It turns out that my class is Wednesday night instead of Tuesday night.

For two months now I’ve been saying to everyone, I have class Mondays and Tuesdays and that I’m free Wednesdays to watch Dawsons Creek. Well I guess not, but now I don’t have to worry about being late for 24. I’m just wondering how I could mistake a W for a T all the times I stared at my schedule? Maybe my brain is too fried to be taking classes.

10:21 AM

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Posted by: mersidotes at January 15, 2003 02:19 PM

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