The 2007/2008 academic year is my fifth and last year at university. Having spent a half decade dreading the dire job prospects that await my measly BA and me, I'm crotchety, cranky, and deeply ill-tempered.
Listening to your second-year bitching cuts to the heart.
Oh, I can't sit still and listen for two measly goddamn hours, why can't we have a break so I can get my overpriced cup of cream and water? Oh, why can't I take cellphone photos of slides because I don't want to develop critical note-taking skills? Oh, the prof finds this disruptive and distracting for herself and other students, but why have any sense of social consideration? Oh, why can't the prof post image carousels ahead of time instead of after class, because I can't add two and two and simply jot down artists and titles in shorthand and download carousels later to compare?
At this point, I'm craning my neck to see who has the balls to think these things are so important as to actually ask them during question period. Because I want to remember your face, so I know who to present the bill to asking for the refund of my time you wasted requesting silly little concessions no self-respecting adult, and student of the arts, would conceive of deserving. It's arts, at the undergraduate level. It's really not that hard.
So shut your stupid fucking puny overprivileged face. And learn.
posted at 5:30:31 pm
2. As "Americana" defines itself as artefacts of American culture, "Gloriana" consists of the artefacts of my culture.
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