The opiate of blame
Today I listened to Siamese Dream for the first time in months and months. It was less magical than it usually is, maybe because I was at work with my headphones on, nodding dumbly at my boss so he thought I could hear him over my music (but really I have no idea what he was blithering about--he was gesturing to a video he was labeling, and that's all I know). Hummer is probably my least favorite song on that album. And my favorite fluctuates from Luna to Mayonaise to Soma. Hm.
This woman came into work to pick up the bound copies of her thesis, and her mother was with her. Before they even collected all the copies, the mother got this huge smile on her face, grabbed one, and started reading it. I can't wait to make my mom that proud.
Classes are so boring it's unfair. Roman history and Heroic Epics are the only classes that spark any interest in me whatsoever. I like the sociology class but that doesn't really count because I only have it once a week at night, and having it with three friends would make any class more bearable. I have realized that the only way for me to learn anything about the poems we read in Poetry is to read them myself and interpret them myself. The teacher sucks and like I said before, he only seems to know things he's read out of a book and poems/poets that people have told him are good. He's given us the customary "just because a poet gets awards, it doesn't mean he's talented, and just because a poet doesn't get awards, it doesn't mean he's not" speech, but all the poets we study seem to be well-known in the literary world, with Princeton educations and Pulitzer Prizes and famous spouses. We are reading "Howl" for next class, though, and that poem always makes me want to cry. I'm sure the professor will butcher it when he reads it aloud, though.
This woman came into work to pick up the bound copies of her thesis, and her mother was with her. Before they even collected all the copies, the mother got this huge smile on her face, grabbed one, and started reading it. I can't wait to make my mom that proud.
Classes are so boring it's unfair. Roman history and Heroic Epics are the only classes that spark any interest in me whatsoever. I like the sociology class but that doesn't really count because I only have it once a week at night, and having it with three friends would make any class more bearable. I have realized that the only way for me to learn anything about the poems we read in Poetry is to read them myself and interpret them myself. The teacher sucks and like I said before, he only seems to know things he's read out of a book and poems/poets that people have told him are good. He's given us the customary "just because a poet gets awards, it doesn't mean he's talented, and just because a poet doesn't get awards, it doesn't mean he's not" speech, but all the poets we study seem to be well-known in the literary world, with Princeton educations and Pulitzer Prizes and famous spouses. We are reading "Howl" for next class, though, and that poem always makes me want to cry. I'm sure the professor will butcher it when he reads it aloud, though.