So the reason why I didn't get to post the fabulous post that I am still working on is because of MIDTERMS! I loathe them. Why is it that every single professor seems like they are oblivious to the fact that you have 3 or four other classes? I have one professor who kills a rainforest a day just to hand out articles on the material we are reading that nobody EVER reads. I'm talking 6-7 articles per week when we already have a book a week to read. Not only that, but she didn't even give a review for the test! The only thing she did was give us a vague idea of what she would ask on the test. Ok people. So help me god when I got that test there was absolutely NONE of the stuff on there that she said would be! I never missed multiple choice so much in my life!
Oh and let's not even talk about some of the lectures these people give. I mean, do I really need to know about when you were younger and how back in your day kids did 30 page papers on the power of subjective perception and existentialism in Virgina Woolfe's "To The Lighthose" without complaining? I'm sorry I thought this was the Modernists 101 not American History for Bored Dummies. And please do not tell me about what kids did in your day. I don't think it's fair that you brag about the fact that you were privileged enough to be born in the same era as these ancient writers and are therefore better able to understand the ancient drivel that none of us whippersnappers know how to use. That's all wet, daddy-o! (Modern translation="That's not cool!")
And I will never understand why some of these teachers actually think giving us the sodid details of their young adult sexual exploits makes them better able to connect with us. Ok, when you look like you're old enough to have changed Jesus's diapers, I don't want to know about your sex life. I would actually prefer to think you don't have one. I don't feel like our relationship has improved, I just feel violated and sick to my stomach. Telling me how a certain scene in a book reminded you of Jenny, a cute girl who lived on the farm next door to you in your glory days and how you met in the barn and proceeded to subject innocent barn animals to a horror show is not going to make me like these dry and wordy tomes anymore. It makes me want to call PETA and drop your class.
And so ends my mini-rant, Happy Belated Hump Day and good luck on your mid-terms!