I hate when people cheat. In any sense of the word. Especially when they take advantage of a paralyzed professor who can't monitor their "cheaty-ness". In my class we had a quiz, this girl whips out her book because she knows our prof who's in a wheelchair can't see her from where he is. Nice. It's funny how often people's true colors will come through if you watch them closely enough. This same girl always talks in class about her values. Ugh, you people disgust me. I skipped my first class today and went for a walk instead. It still seems like a good idea, we'll see. I am getting worn down about being here. I'm am no longer going to preface my comments by saying "I love it here at MSU but....." Ick. I know that downloading Degrassi episodes will make it all OK, but I grow weary... I have this idea for a painting, but my art shit is all at home so I can't do it. I'm going to make a bee-line for my easel as soon as I can.
In other news, I'm going home for this Easter weekend. It's not like we do anything special, but it's nice to get away from the concrete paradise that is campus. I'm thinking of taking the Miller Analogies Test so I can get into Mensa. Hahah It's a group designed for bragging about your high IQ and serves no purpose that I can ascertain, but why not? I took the online practice and I was two points shy of being allowed in....dammitt. On non-verbal IQ tests however, I am a veritable IGNORAMUS. That's all for now kids. Oh I took this quiz, and the results couldn't be anymore true-er-er. (Except that I don't want to be reborn as Kerouac, maybe a girlfriend of Kerouac but not the man himself)
You're the Tortured Intellectual!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!Created with
Rum and Monkey's
Personality Test Generator.
You're sensitive, you're emotional, and you wonder why everyone else in the world exists on a different plane. You cannot eat, breathe, or sleep without analyzing each action to death. You're usually sombre, depressed, lethargic, but you can be nearly glad from time to time. You wear whatever you can find on your cluttered bedroom floor. You carry books, notepads, reading glasses with you wherever you go. You have friends, but only a few who truly get where you're coming from. You frequent coffee shops, libraries, and the less crowded bars. You're obsessed with past people, past ideas, past lives. You wish you could die and be reborn as Jack Kerouac.