September 30, 2004

This is a cheap shot. And you know you love it.

Unlike Britney Spears, I happen to have class.

4 classes, to be exact, after dropping and adding a class. I write this because I'm going to be updating the biography soon, it's easier to easier to link to this post instead of describing classes in the bio and because people have asked. I'll try and make it not as boring as the actual classes.

First, let's begin with the class I dropped: Art History: Renaissance to the Present. I took an art history class last year, and I didn't find out that my credits would transfer until after school started. Bastard administrators. The professor was from one of those countries in Eastern Europe that nobody gives a damn about (Albania, anyone?) and had terrible pronunciation. I've taken Art History classes in the past, and so I knew that Giotto doesn't have five syllables. While that wasn't much of a problem for the big art names, it was difficult distinguishing between Broederlam and Bondone, and that's saying something.

I might have kept with the class, just because art history comes naturally to me, except that the TA/discussion leader also had problems with the English language, having recently moved from Sudan. He said things like "You come to class I teach you things. I help with art and learning." Yes, that is verbatim (I took notes). I walked out of the discussion group after ten minutes because it hurt so much.

After dropping that class, I picked up an American Literature class. It's not bad, since I've already took an AmLit class last year, but only post-James. The teacher reminds me of one of my favorite teachers from high school, the one who after catching us skipping class took my best friend and I out to coffee. He starts class by playing contemporary music that slightly relates to the topic at hand (Bob Marley for Emerson, PJ Harvey for Fuller). Even though "To Bring You My Love" isn't my favorite PJ Harvey song, having it playing over the loudspeakers as I walked into class was a sure way into my heart.

I'm also taking a Shakespeare class. The teacher looks like Michael Moore's father, but British and with mismatching ties instead of baseball caps. Professor Knowles teaches the class, and he introduced himself by proclaiming that he is of no relation to that other Knowles, even though his body, after comparison, is the more bootylicious of the two. (Trust you me, it's not.) He'll also deadpans things like "If you didn't cry after reading this play (Richard II), then your heart pumps black bile and you boil small children to make soap." He also does things like not talk about the play, which is nice since I think Shakespeare is overrated. "Notice how 'Two Gentlemen of Verona' is like a Gilbert & Sullivan opera. Let's spend the next twenty minutes talking about how good 'Pirates of Penzance' is." He also uses a lot of superfluous commas in his handouts, which is another sure way into my heart.

My Logic class is really annoying as I am not inspired in any way shape or form. Fortunately, this is the teacher's first year, and he looks to be about 25 (and not a bad looking 25 year old either). Unfortunately, he tries to make me understand things like the following:

(-A & -B) → (-C v -D), (E v -F) →-A, -H → (B → J), -F & -H = -D

Fortunately, it's easy for me to stop by during his office hours for oogling help. He has really nice legs. The TA is ugly though, which makes the discussion group grating.

Rounding out the sixteen credits is my Nutrition class. It's going pretty slowly--did you know that there's a pyramid, and it demonstrates how many fruits and vegetables you should eat in a day? And that long ago, in a land far far away, humans used to grow their own food, or sometimes even hunt animals for food? It's fascinating, except that it's on the other side of campus (up two hills!) and it's my earliest class. It's gotten better lately, because we're talking about Carbohydrates this week, and he absolutely despises Atkins. Low carb diets will make you stupid and slow.

Seriously. Science proves it. Atkins (and the South Beach guys) didn't use proper methods to determine a lot of their results, and most real dietitians want to beat the shit out of them for toying with people's health. Your brain and neurological system can only use the amino acids from glycogen (which comes from carbs), and deficiencies can make you slow, both in reaction and in thought.

If I were a better, hotter blogger, I would come up with a witty ending to this, but unfortunately I'm not.

Here lies a most ridiculous raw youth, indulging himself in the literary graces that he once vowed to eschew. Now he just rocks out.