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Saturday, September 11, 2010

Log #2

       First few days of school: Yes, I am already behind and Yes I am writing this blog instead of catching up. Whatcha gunna do about it? I have a few thoughts on some of my classes. One in particular but we will get to that later. “This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last” -Oscar Wilde.
       Linguistics shall be first. Start off on a high note. Very interesting class indeed, and my prof reminds me a little bit of Indiana Jones in the years between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I doubt that any girls will be writing ‘love you’ on their eyelids, but he must have been rather swoon-worthy at a younger age. But, seeing as I sit at the back of the class I am able to concentrate on the incredibly interesting course material.
       Spanish I may end up failing. Merely due to the distance between classes and the massive importance my professor places on punctuality. CCIS, why did you only make 2 ways out? And why can I not exit to Quad? A pox on you and your architectural flaws.
       German Film Studies is definitely going to be my favourite. Also the one that provides the most distractions from doing the work in my other classes. Every time we watch a clip in that class I have an overwhelming desire to watch the entire movie. I will be so knowledgeable about Bavarian Cinema that I am sure anyone would hire me for mere conversational purposes. People do that right?

      Ah, now for the BIG one. The one class that everyone seems to take. The reason CCIS has the pox. PSYCO 104. Silly, naïve, innocent girl that I am and was, I began my university career in the highest level of classes made available to me. I floundered in MLCS 210, I yawned in GERM 211 and 212 and the rest of my schedule I piddled away in things like Drama. Well let me tell you, I am now paying dearly, my friends. My class consists of upwards of 80% first year students and a mere 24 pupils who managed to keep our brains from exploding in that dreadful first year. *

It’s not that psychology doesn’t interest me, there is a reason I chose it as a science requirement. I am incredibly interested in the practical application of psychology in terms of understanding learning and thought patterns in order to help the general population ascend to the intellectual heights which it is no doubt capable of. So, naturally, I had that well-thought out answer ready when my dear, sweet, unassuming professor asked the class why we would like to learn the course material from her (and then gave 30 seconds for us to click A,B,C or D depending on which of her contrived answers we liked the best. But that’s beside the point.) Post impersonal-response-system, she asked for unique genuine answers from a few volunteers. I was ready. Straining upwards like a 5 year old who knows why unicorns are extinct and desperately wants to impress the all-knowing kindergarten teacher. Alas, it was not to be. Instead she calls on a young man in the back row who unabashedly, open-facedly and unashamedly admits to taking the course in order to be able to ‘manipulate and use women.’

!!!!!” Thought I, clearly appalled by the candid response so easily admitted in front of a class of what must have been 75 percent female (this was also demonstrated earlier by the I-Clicker response system.) Clearly this gentleman was, as they say, cruising for a bruising. I was to be shocked once again at the uproar in the classroom. Not of the kind which I expected, but of laughter and agreement! Shock! And yet I was not to be let off with that slight demoralization of women’s intelligence. My professor, also chortling quietly, advised him to merely tape a $50 bill to his head and he could skip the class and get his money back.

Must I elaborate on the horror of this ideology? Is this what we are teaching the new impressionable minds who have come for higher education? Are these the women whom we tell to empower themselves no matter what course they choose to take in life (and university)? I can understand that it seemed a humorous interruption to the monotonous drone of 5,000 fingers clicking away on keyboards.** Perhaps I am a jaded old woman who feels the need to take offence to the slightest attack at her intelligence. I will just let all you young men out there know, I will not be fooled by money or suave trickery and I hope that the rest of the females in my generation can see through the humour and allow themselves to be worth more than a silly comment made with impeccable timing.
Fin?




*all statistics in this story are true and as accurate as 500 students clicking little white buttons before being cut off can be.

** Give or take a few. I-Clicker did not ask if we all had 5 digits on each hand or if we are one-finger typists or anything of that Tom-Foolery. This is solely my assumption. Thusly, take the previous note with a grain of salt, if you will.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Log #1

Brand New. Eveything is brand spanking new right now. Well not everything. I hyperbolize. New house, new neighbourhood, new church, new school year meaning new (to me) textbooks, and hopefully soon a new job to pay for said textbooks. It's a new beginning that will bring a new ending, which will be followed by a new beginning, which in turn... well you get the idea.

The LRT is down this weekend as a personal "welcome to using public transit". It means that I have to spend an extravagant amount of time on the bus. So here is the first in what I hope to be a series of bus tales.

The Number 8 on a Saturday Morning
by Adrianne Parke
      Nothing out of the ordinary. A girl of 21 boards the bus. I seat myself in front of a couple. The woman then turns to the man and says rather loudly, "What is wrong with these f***ing immigrants? She should be sitting in the disabled seating because that's a f***ing disability." I am rather offended by the ignorance displayed in this outburst and begins to look around to see who the woman could possibly be talking about. Only to realize that this remark was directed at me. Offense immediately disappeared and I settled in as a 5th generation Canadian for what was sure to be an exciting transit trip.
       The man swiftly agrees and just as swiftly changes the topic to the construction happening around the city. Regaling his sweetheart with all of his skills of which he has many. His exact words I believe were, "I can do f***ing anything! Anything at all!" at her incredulity he begins listing all of the 'everything' that he has done which includes and is mostly limited to construction. He can, however, build an entire skyscraper with his bare hands. He should definitely be on television for that. His final argument at being able to do 'anything' was... I will paraphrase so as not to offend. Let's just say he would sexually satisfy her (message me if you want to know his exact words.) She giggles and calls him naughty, like the coquettish vixen that she is. He then (rather loudly) propositions her to partake in coitus on the moving bus. My eyes bulged and my ears burned and all I could think was, "Behind me??? Please no! But it will make a good story... no, not worth it!"
         Luckily, my foreigner-hating friend was far too much a lady to have sexual intercourse on a vehicle of public transit. I thought I had escaped a very awkward, very long bus ride when I began to hear heavy panting and moaning coming from behind me. The other passengers looked just as frightened as I. That was when I realized what was going on. He was proving his point in a rather unconventional way. What could I do? I joined the other passengers in staring studiously ahead and avoiding any emotion to be betrayed on my face until it was my stop and I could flee the stale bus.
         Let's just say, he proved his point. I now believe that this loudmouthed bus man can, in fact, do 'anything'.