round-up
Just left my biology lab. I sit next to a girl whose lack of comprehension is accompanied by the avid desire to participate. She takes the shotgun method to answering questions. "Inductive. Deductive. False? True!" I expect her to blurt out, "On the moon! With Steve!"
However, she seems smarter than the following guy. The professor started an explanation by saying, "Let's say you are born blind. However, you have been taught there is a star 93 million miles from the earth --"
"There's not really, is there?"
Long pause while the professor tries to determine if he's being fucked with. Then he went on as if the student hadn't spoken, which I think was wise. Disturbing that level of stupidity would be like waking up a sleepwalker; it's just dangerous.**
Because my misanthropy is wide-ranging, I am also annoyed by one of my fellow students in phonetics, who is Hermione Granger sans charm. I was very amused yesterday when she raised her hand to tell the teacher something, prefacing it with, "I don't know if you know what the book says, but blah blah blah."
The professor said, "Actually, I do know what the book says, because I wrote it."
I wrote OH SNAP in phonetics in my notes.
By the way, you may have picked up on the fact that I am IN CLASSES! I should have updated sooner after my last incoherently frantic entry, but I find it harder to write when not fueled by boiling rage. And despite my minor crabbing at some fellow students, I am incredibly happy with school this semester. My financial aid came through Thursday afternoon before the Friday deadline. I was so relieved and effusively grateful to the administrator who helped me that I think she was making plans to install a remote-control trapdoor in her office by the time I left.
I'm taking American Sign Language, speech and language development in children, and phonetics, which I have a freakish knack for (and which has Crash and the nephews convinced I am learning secret codes in school.) Oh, and Biology, which consists of 29 freshmen and my age-ravaged ass. They (the classes, not the freshmen) are fascinating, except for Biology. My ass is also fascinating, despite being age-ravaged.
Things are also going well in the mommune. Lut found a job through one of her Filipina friends, and she's happy and positive. We've settled into a routine where the nephews come to my place when they get off the bus, and the kids play and do homework. We trade off child wrangling on the weekends, so the load on my parents has lightened.
I'm really enjoying getting to know my nephews. Dylan, the younger, is a riot. Recently I showed them a picture of me on my third birthday, getting a gift of two Guatemalan dolls. I pointed to a shelf and said, "See, I still have them."
Dylan: "How old are they?"
Me: "I'm forty now, and that was my third birthday."
Dylan, to his brother, who was taking the dolls down: "Zack, don't touch them! They'll turn to dust!"
**The first time I wrote that sentence I wrote 'waking up a streetwalker.' Also a risky practice.
However, she seems smarter than the following guy. The professor started an explanation by saying, "Let's say you are born blind. However, you have been taught there is a star 93 million miles from the earth --"
"There's not really, is there?"
Long pause while the professor tries to determine if he's being fucked with. Then he went on as if the student hadn't spoken, which I think was wise. Disturbing that level of stupidity would be like waking up a sleepwalker; it's just dangerous.**
Because my misanthropy is wide-ranging, I am also annoyed by one of my fellow students in phonetics, who is Hermione Granger sans charm. I was very amused yesterday when she raised her hand to tell the teacher something, prefacing it with, "I don't know if you know what the book says, but blah blah blah."
The professor said, "Actually, I do know what the book says, because I wrote it."
I wrote OH SNAP in phonetics in my notes.
By the way, you may have picked up on the fact that I am IN CLASSES! I should have updated sooner after my last incoherently frantic entry, but I find it harder to write when not fueled by boiling rage. And despite my minor crabbing at some fellow students, I am incredibly happy with school this semester. My financial aid came through Thursday afternoon before the Friday deadline. I was so relieved and effusively grateful to the administrator who helped me that I think she was making plans to install a remote-control trapdoor in her office by the time I left.
I'm taking American Sign Language, speech and language development in children, and phonetics, which I have a freakish knack for (and which has Crash and the nephews convinced I am learning secret codes in school.) Oh, and Biology, which consists of 29 freshmen and my age-ravaged ass. They (the classes, not the freshmen) are fascinating, except for Biology. My ass is also fascinating, despite being age-ravaged.
Things are also going well in the mommune. Lut found a job through one of her Filipina friends, and she's happy and positive. We've settled into a routine where the nephews come to my place when they get off the bus, and the kids play and do homework. We trade off child wrangling on the weekends, so the load on my parents has lightened.
I'm really enjoying getting to know my nephews. Dylan, the younger, is a riot. Recently I showed them a picture of me on my third birthday, getting a gift of two Guatemalan dolls. I pointed to a shelf and said, "See, I still have them."
Dylan: "How old are they?"
Me: "I'm forty now, and that was my third birthday."
Dylan, to his brother, who was taking the dolls down: "Zack, don't touch them! They'll turn to dust!"
**The first time I wrote that sentence I wrote 'waking up a streetwalker.' Also a risky practice.