(no subject)
Long overdue for a post about school, and since I'm supposed to be doing homework now is as good a time as any.
(hurr hurr hurr I'm such a good student.)
Not enjoying dorm life. The architect was under the delusion that bare concrete is stylish, so the overall impression is that of a high-rise prison. Also not enjoying my floor mates. The engineering majors are full of image-obsessed girly girls, who knew? One of the other screenwriters joked that there must be a secret engineering degree in prostitution (it was a guy).
As for the others in my major, there's twelve of us freshmen and we pretty much have all our classes together. Which is good in some ways, bad in others. Like the guy (who made the prostitution joke) who I like well enough but spend most of my time around him wanting to punch him. Direct quote: "There's no such thing as feminism. Women don't want to be treated equal, they just want to be treated better." He got mad when he stood up and I refused to take his seat. He's irritatingly chauvinistic and makes a lot of black jokes around this other girl. I've been trying to subtly call him out on it, but I can't tell if she honestly doesn't mind or is just going along with it because she's used to it so I'm afraid to straight up tell him to shut his pie hole. It's tempting though because even if she isn't insulted I'm insulted for her. I've never really been open about my asexuality but if it came up I'd say it, but around him I'm not so sure. I swear I'm going to end up breaking his nose before the year is over.
I like most of my classes. Except goddamn Film History. Four hours of sitting in a classroom listen to a professor who says 'right' a ridiculous amount talk and show film clips. 150-odd times in the first half-hour last class, 12 in the last five minutes. There's verbal ticks, and then there's that. He also laughs a lot, but called me out for laughing. Not my fault The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari=Dr. Calamari=either The Cabinet of Doc Ock or vampire squid. Next class I'm going to bring a large bag of small candy and have a Professor Wolmart Says Right drinking game.
On another topic, here's the thing: there are like seven black people back home. Philadelphia's just a bit different. But what really surprised me? Everyone in the service industry here is black. Cooks, cashiers, cleaning people. The only place I've seen so far where this isn't the case is waiters in fancy restaurants. It's not that they're mostly black with a couple Asians or white people or what have you, it's all of them. Really surprising, in a really not good way.
In short, the past few weeks have been really eye-opening about the world and have made me want to punch a white male heterosexual baby.
(hurr hurr hurr I'm such a good student.)
Not enjoying dorm life. The architect was under the delusion that bare concrete is stylish, so the overall impression is that of a high-rise prison. Also not enjoying my floor mates. The engineering majors are full of image-obsessed girly girls, who knew? One of the other screenwriters joked that there must be a secret engineering degree in prostitution (it was a guy).
As for the others in my major, there's twelve of us freshmen and we pretty much have all our classes together. Which is good in some ways, bad in others. Like the guy (who made the prostitution joke) who I like well enough but spend most of my time around him wanting to punch him. Direct quote: "There's no such thing as feminism. Women don't want to be treated equal, they just want to be treated better." He got mad when he stood up and I refused to take his seat. He's irritatingly chauvinistic and makes a lot of black jokes around this other girl. I've been trying to subtly call him out on it, but I can't tell if she honestly doesn't mind or is just going along with it because she's used to it so I'm afraid to straight up tell him to shut his pie hole. It's tempting though because even if she isn't insulted I'm insulted for her. I've never really been open about my asexuality but if it came up I'd say it, but around him I'm not so sure. I swear I'm going to end up breaking his nose before the year is over.
I like most of my classes. Except goddamn Film History. Four hours of sitting in a classroom listen to a professor who says 'right' a ridiculous amount talk and show film clips. 150-odd times in the first half-hour last class, 12 in the last five minutes. There's verbal ticks, and then there's that. He also laughs a lot, but called me out for laughing. Not my fault The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari=Dr. Calamari=either The Cabinet of Doc Ock or vampire squid. Next class I'm going to bring a large bag of small candy and have a Professor Wolmart Says Right drinking game.
On another topic, here's the thing: there are like seven black people back home. Philadelphia's just a bit different. But what really surprised me? Everyone in the service industry here is black. Cooks, cashiers, cleaning people. The only place I've seen so far where this isn't the case is waiters in fancy restaurants. It's not that they're mostly black with a couple Asians or white people or what have you, it's all of them. Really surprising, in a really not good way.
In short, the past few weeks have been really eye-opening about the world and have made me want to punch a white male heterosexual baby.