back to school

In honor of my return to school this week, I am posting the video below:



Pleasantries aside, I realize now--9:45pm on Sunday night--that I should have started my reading in July. I have been reading nonstop for nearly the entire weekend, and I still have a couple hundred pages to go before Tuesday. I guess that's what you get when your professors assign readings for the first class before you decide that you actually want to take it. Ah, the memories of college are flooding back. At least I feel somewhat prepared--the fearful, doomed stares on the other students' faces reassure me that UofC has somewhat acclimated me to the sheer amount of reading that we will be expected to complete each week. Unfortunately, before I realized this, I insensitively laughed at one classmate after he expressed concern over the number of articles and books assigned in a particular class. Whoops. Way to make friends on the first day.

Actually, my concern centers more around the fact that I have been placed in the 'highest level' of Math Lab in connection to our economics classes. My placement was based on the results of a math quiz following the math tutorials forced upon us during student orientation. I don't remember much of the quiz besides a red haze of frustration and a hastily penned essay in lieu of an answer on the last exercise explaining how I would solve the problem if only I actually knew how. Consequently, I refuse to believe that these results are accurate and am instead convinced that God hates me and has employed his math minions to inflict pain upon me and my loved ones, to whom I shall be whining incessantly until my economics requirement is fulfilled. God, what have I ever done to You to deserve This? May your supply always outweigh your demand, you Meddling Communist Bastard. Why don't you make yourself useful and strike down some of the undergrads clogging up my language class instead? Half of them are going to drop out by Thanksgiving break anyway, once they break up with the girl/boyfriend whose exotic culture and language seemed so much more academically appealing when raunchy class-skipping sex was involved. Just think about it--you'll see that I'm right.

I now see that with that last sentence I have shot myself in the foot--much like the US foreign policy I have been reading so much about for the last four days--and you are all now completely and irretrievably distracted by memories of your own raunchy class-skipping sexcapades.

Lest anything I write here become forever entangled with your disgusting thoughts of sluttitude, I will end here for now. Perverts. You'll get another post once the sock is removed from the doorknob.