fearlesstemp (
fearlesstemp) wrote2004-01-22 02:00 am
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i'll take structuralist arguments i can't understand for 200, Alex
Okay, seriously? Britney Spears's new single? Is awesome. I heard it in the car tonight and I can't get it out of my head, and I'm thisclose to driving to the nearest 24 Hour WalMart (even if, as Helen pointed out, they are evil!!!) to buy her CD because I want to hear it again. Toxic! It's so good.
That said: I heard the song while driving home from my first class of the term, which was scary and intimidating!! But it seems like it will be interesting, so I will probably keep the class, even if I feel like a total stupid loser sitting there. Today the professor did the First Day Getting To Know You Thing, and asked all of us to fill out a sheet of paper with the following information:
(1) Name
(2) Phone number
(3) E-mail addy
(4) Degree program
(5) Where we got our BA, and
(6) Why we're taking the course, and what we do when not in class -- jobs, etc.
Okay, so questions 1,2,3, and 5 were fine, but for (4) I had to write down "non-matriculated graduate student" which, as some of you may know, is basically a long way of writing "flake" and for (6), I had to say, "I've been considering returning to school full time, and so have been taking occasional graduate courses while doing temporary office work since graduating from college in May 2002" which is an even longer way of writing "flake." But, you know, must be honest! Cannot make up false history rivaling that of other classmates, like the woman who had been teaching feminist film theory at City College!
It was all easier for me to do since it was being written down, and not said aloud because, as I've said often, I am not good at public speaking. Or speaking to any group of people larger than four or so who I do not know extremely well. I passed forward my little piece of paper with my best Good Little Student Smile on, and waited for class to begin, only to watch the professor rifle through the papers for a minute and then turn to the person beside him.
"Your name?" he said, and the person gave it to him.
"Ah," he said. "I see you're Very Intellectual and Accomplished."
Actually, he said a lot more than that, in greater detail -- basically summarizing what was written down on the sheet, but I can't *remember* what was on that guy's sheet because I spent that moment riding out the wave of soul-crushing panic I felt at realizing that everyone in the class was going to hear about how lame I was! And, okay, I was overreacting, but that's what I *do* in these situations.
I spent the next ten minutes or so watching him go around the room and read out from everyone's little (6) section on their sheet, except for one or two people who he'd had in several other classes who just got a nod of recognition and a pass, and then he finally got to me. I sat there, trying to look confident and self-assured (as if I had developed in the past five minutes some version of what Bridget Jones would call inner poise).
He nodded at me, and I gave a dorky wave before saying, "Jessica MyLastName."
"Ah," he said, and pulled my sheet of paper out. "Jessica MyLastName...okay, you put your e-mail address down, good, good...non-matriculated -- hmmm...huh."
And then he furrowed his brow, finished reading, and flipped the paper over! That was it! Moved onto the next person!
I sat there kind of stunned and, initially, relieved, but then quickly horrified because! Apparently I am so lame that he, like, wanted to spare me the embarrassment of sharing my lameness with the class! And then I felt kind of indignant about it, wanted to jump up and say something like, "I'll have you know I was Temp of the Month, pal!" and challenge him to a collating contest or something.
The rest of the class was decent, though I did have another moment of soul-crushing ohmygoodnessIdon'tbelong panic when the person sitting across from me raised his hand halfway through my professor's discussion of the first week's reading and said, "Now, when you say 'deconstruct' do you mean it in the [lots of long multi-syllabic words]."
I almost heard the whoosh of the concepts flying over my head. The only thing that saved me was that I wasn't alone, and my professor turned to the guy and said, "I'm lost," when he finished speaking. After a brief foray into structuralism, the two of them worked out what the other one had been meaning, and while I was left in the academic dust, I felt not quite so awful about it as I had initially.
In any case, the episode served to bring to the forefront the That Guy of the class. You know That Guy? The guy who's done all sorts of esoteric research on obscure French philosophers so that when the professor's lecturing, he'll pipe in with a bizarre, but not completely off-topic question that casually demonstrates his brilliance? Now, see, That Guy is not being a jerk about it; if he were being a jerk about it, trying to show off, we would call him That Arrogant Jerk, or something else mildly mean. That Guy honestly doesn't know better! He thinks we're all on the same page when he lays out these questions when, actually, most of us are chapters behind him, or wishing we had a dictionary to pull out so that we can figure out what he's saying!
Ah, to be effortlessly brilliant. I spend so much energy trying to seem mildly engaged. Right now I think I'm going to go spend a few hours being totally asleep.
That said: I heard the song while driving home from my first class of the term, which was scary and intimidating!! But it seems like it will be interesting, so I will probably keep the class, even if I feel like a total stupid loser sitting there. Today the professor did the First Day Getting To Know You Thing, and asked all of us to fill out a sheet of paper with the following information:
(1) Name
(2) Phone number
(3) E-mail addy
(4) Degree program
(5) Where we got our BA, and
(6) Why we're taking the course, and what we do when not in class -- jobs, etc.
Okay, so questions 1,2,3, and 5 were fine, but for (4) I had to write down "non-matriculated graduate student" which, as some of you may know, is basically a long way of writing "flake" and for (6), I had to say, "I've been considering returning to school full time, and so have been taking occasional graduate courses while doing temporary office work since graduating from college in May 2002" which is an even longer way of writing "flake." But, you know, must be honest! Cannot make up false history rivaling that of other classmates, like the woman who had been teaching feminist film theory at City College!
It was all easier for me to do since it was being written down, and not said aloud because, as I've said often, I am not good at public speaking. Or speaking to any group of people larger than four or so who I do not know extremely well. I passed forward my little piece of paper with my best Good Little Student Smile on, and waited for class to begin, only to watch the professor rifle through the papers for a minute and then turn to the person beside him.
"Your name?" he said, and the person gave it to him.
"Ah," he said. "I see you're Very Intellectual and Accomplished."
Actually, he said a lot more than that, in greater detail -- basically summarizing what was written down on the sheet, but I can't *remember* what was on that guy's sheet because I spent that moment riding out the wave of soul-crushing panic I felt at realizing that everyone in the class was going to hear about how lame I was! And, okay, I was overreacting, but that's what I *do* in these situations.
I spent the next ten minutes or so watching him go around the room and read out from everyone's little (6) section on their sheet, except for one or two people who he'd had in several other classes who just got a nod of recognition and a pass, and then he finally got to me. I sat there, trying to look confident and self-assured (as if I had developed in the past five minutes some version of what Bridget Jones would call inner poise).
He nodded at me, and I gave a dorky wave before saying, "Jessica MyLastName."
"Ah," he said, and pulled my sheet of paper out. "Jessica MyLastName...okay, you put your e-mail address down, good, good...non-matriculated -- hmmm...huh."
And then he furrowed his brow, finished reading, and flipped the paper over! That was it! Moved onto the next person!
I sat there kind of stunned and, initially, relieved, but then quickly horrified because! Apparently I am so lame that he, like, wanted to spare me the embarrassment of sharing my lameness with the class! And then I felt kind of indignant about it, wanted to jump up and say something like, "I'll have you know I was Temp of the Month, pal!" and challenge him to a collating contest or something.
The rest of the class was decent, though I did have another moment of soul-crushing ohmygoodnessIdon'tbelong panic when the person sitting across from me raised his hand halfway through my professor's discussion of the first week's reading and said, "Now, when you say 'deconstruct' do you mean it in the [lots of long multi-syllabic words]."
I almost heard the whoosh of the concepts flying over my head. The only thing that saved me was that I wasn't alone, and my professor turned to the guy and said, "I'm lost," when he finished speaking. After a brief foray into structuralism, the two of them worked out what the other one had been meaning, and while I was left in the academic dust, I felt not quite so awful about it as I had initially.
In any case, the episode served to bring to the forefront the That Guy of the class. You know That Guy? The guy who's done all sorts of esoteric research on obscure French philosophers so that when the professor's lecturing, he'll pipe in with a bizarre, but not completely off-topic question that casually demonstrates his brilliance? Now, see, That Guy is not being a jerk about it; if he were being a jerk about it, trying to show off, we would call him That Arrogant Jerk, or something else mildly mean. That Guy honestly doesn't know better! He thinks we're all on the same page when he lays out these questions when, actually, most of us are chapters behind him, or wishing we had a dictionary to pull out so that we can figure out what he's saying!
Ah, to be effortlessly brilliant. I spend so much energy trying to seem mildly engaged. Right now I think I'm going to go spend a few hours being totally asleep.
Oh Jess
Re: Oh Jess
no subject
So, am I going to be getting my weekly phone-call-on-the-way-to-your-car when you pretend I am your muscular boyfriend Vinny? Or is another friend on duty this semester?
Good luck with the class...
no subject
My class this semester is from 4:40 to 6:40 so it might be light enough for me not to be nervous, but one never knows! You may want to brush up your Vinny imitation, though, because I'll probably end up spamming your voicemail anyway most days because I'll be bored. :)
no subject
Incident One:
I was reading One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and he passed by and was all, "I hung out with Ken Kesey blah blah I'm awesome." I was so totally impressed. Totally.
Incident Two:
Hispanic Civilizations class. Professor asks something like "What do we know about Peru?" (which is a really great, specific question to open review/discussion) ... expecting us to draw on things we'd just learned in the class, of course. And That Guy says like, "It has over 300 bird species living there." Uhhh?
He also liked to talk about how he refused to read news from the US but he was reading in this CHILEAN newspaper that blah blah blah. Because, you know, South America is well known for its support of its people's liberties, so their news can't be stilted at all. Dumbass.
/rant about That Guy
no subject
And! The super-vague open-ended questions professor -- he sounds fun! In that completely maddening way. Meaning, not fun at all. But if nothing else, he did give you an anecdote to pass along to me that has made me better informd as to the bird population of Peru. So, a happy ending (at least for me). :)
!
Far be it from me to tell anyone what they should do with their lives, because people are always giving me well-meaning advice that makes me feel like I have heartburn and maybe just need to lie down for a little bit in a fetal position, however, you are wicked smart, and definitely have inner poise.
Also, again, possibly the most effortlessly hilarious person I know. And you know how important it is to me that one can bring the funny.
You rock the free world, so, you know, just because you haven't quite conformed to whatever Mr. Professorman thinks is the correct live trajectory, um, it doesn't mean you won't do great and fabulous things--probably as a result of not just blindly sheeping along like everyone else and their feminist film theory asses.
Re: !
Re: !
I choose to believe this reflects poorly upon the subject matter and not, of course, my own memory. :)
Re: !
no subject
no subject
I know. I'm deeply shamed. My parents wonder -- did they choose the wrong pre-school? The wrong pediatrician? Should they have restricted my JEM viewing when I was six? Where did they go wrong??
Personally, I don't really care so long as I have sufficient time to obsess over JC. :)
hey
Props on all the great feedback you get on your entries. Here's some more:
I'm back after almost a year (it seemed like longer). But I was so self-centered about the whole thing that I just thought I was missing out on writing my depressing, introspective, bull-kee-rap, forgetting that there were many laughs to be had by reading SCOUTMOL's entries.
Rivals sitting down to an episode of Will and Grace (that's right, Miss I-denounce-TV is now an addict.)
OK, so I'm also here on a mission. By referral. I was told you are the internet-searching ACE. I have a request: A week ago, I went to see a fairly prominant jazz musician, a certain Roy Hargrove, at Bates College in Lewiston Maine. Well, drama ensued when he walked on stage visibly [drunk? stoned? sick with the flu?] He walk off the stage several times, once for the duration of two or three songs. This amazingly talented mucisian denied an eager audience and pissed off his fellow musicians (they tried to hide it but I could see the smirk on the saxophonist's face when the delirious Roy cut him off during a solo). Was it all an act? A scandal? OR merely someone who had the flu but has the kind of job where he doesn't have the luxury of slumping behind a desk with a tissue box in his lap. Your mission, should you choose to accept it: Find out what happened to Roy Hargrove on the night of Saturday, January 17th. Is the small-town gossipiness of northern New England rubbing off on me? Is this even news worthy? Artemis2032 seems to think it may be and that if anyone could find out, it would be you.
Re: hey
I will totally look into this mystery -- prob. tomorrow, provided my temp job gives me the speedy net access I'm hoping it will. Though I wonder if Artemis2032 has too much faith in my abilities. :)