Thursday, March 5, 2009

Did I tell you?

I am back at uni and I have already skipped two classes.
And I have reasons.
I refuse to learn the German alphabet again, which is actually the Latin alphabet, and also, after a weekend of grant applications, I refuse to sit in a class and talk about the processes of writing grant applications.

This now leads me to my definitive realisations about my supposed higher education.

The things that I have learnt from attending Melbourne University.

1. I have learnt nothing.
I am the type of person who will actively research and go out and learn on my own. Studying has actually just made me lose interest and discover my pain threshold does actually have a limit and that I am very good at ignoring people while maintaining a look of interest.

2. A philosophy class in first year study is a very good time to work out conversions for baking in your head.

I sat a class called "Reason and Passion" in first year. This was a combination of art history and philosophy and 'learning' the hot and cold nature of the mind and sensation. Because of point 1, I was able to work out ways to get a better crumb in certain cakes and breads I was obsessed with perfecting at the time. Give it a couple of months and you will understand when I present the Persimmon Loaf that I always dedicate to Anne-Margaret. I have given her the recipe about 12 times and she has never made it, and always looses it. And the is usually because I half/multiply recipes for purposes of feeding my friends and also, I hate baking in cup measurements. Really, baking is science and a cup is fallible. 200g on the other hand is always going to be 200g.

3. No amount of baking and humming to yourself will ever erase the image of THAT chick, naked and dancing in THAT class.
Erm, I tried. It didn't help. Oh, and cheese was something I left out of the equation. If I was going to disassociate things from my mind, it would also run the risk of associating things as well. I was not going to risk my beloved. This happened both in first and second year. It is also one of the reasons why I stopped taking theatre classes and realised that tutors don't remember what the hell you did the year before.

4. I don't care about (insert writer/philosopher/practitioner here), just let me fucking write already. Being forced to analyse things also makes me lose my love.
I loved writing, and when I started writing at Uni, I started hating it. This is particularly painful when it is my major. I think my style has been severely effected by it, so, I will spend my year in completing my arts management minor in viewing the world as a steaming shit-heap again so I can get my energy back.

5. When someone says they like the way you think, it is a sign that you're depressed again.

This happens a lot in classes where I either have to workshop or have an opinion on something. It also seems to be happening again, which comes me also moving away from the effect of uni on my life and fulfilling my goal stipulated in point 4. Funnily enough, universities love emotionally challenged people and I am technically "disabled" according to Melbourne Uni because my depression is so debilitating. So, I am going to ride that train all the way to graduation and use it to my advantage.

6. How to identify a hipster.
A what? I was so glad I didn't know about these fuckers when I was in first year, and then, slowly they crept into my consciousness, always proclaiming everything to be "cool" or "boss" and that you should "check it" because it is "totes cool."
Also, they wear very tight pants, cannot sit or stand properly, are malnutritioned and therefore bad posture, have an addition to something, probably in a band or about to start a band, have not washed their hair since they started going through puberty, have no intellect, usually smell homeless, all their clothes are borrowed, are unemployed, but on their parent's pay roll, think bisexuality is "cool" and proclaim to be, but have never actually fucked anyone of the same sex, oh, and they're "cool." There is a lot more, but you get the idea.

7. That because of point 6, you can wear sunglasses in a lecture and sleep without anyone noticing.
Hipsters usually wear sunglasses all the time, and with the amount of hair they possess, generally only reveal 10% of their faces to their lecturers/tutors. This is advantageous to any other person, because you are able to sleep in class and look like a potato and be mistaken for a hipster when you really just can't be bothered listening to Deleuze's interpretation of Proust and his fucking madelines again. Third year.

8. That if you don't spend time at uni outside of your classes, people think you have dropped out, are that more elusive and are therefore cooler.
This is not necessarily a good thing.
See also the next point: People are idiots.

9. People are idiots.
This may sound like a widely known fact, but when you're in a class with a woman who cannot stop fake tanning and keeps asking if 1500 words on an essay is enough when 2000 words is the standard in third year, surprise, surprise...people are idiots.
See also: People asking tutors out on dates when they are so naively oblivious to the fact that said tutor is either a raging lesbian or raving queen, especially after mentioning how much fun they had in the "gay scene" in London. Oh, and did I mention...they're studying Creative Arts?
See also: The people who repeat everything that the tutor says, but ending the sentence with "is that right," so they think that they can sound smarter than everyone else, when everyone else actually knows that the person is a fucking tosser.

10. It is better to starve than to eat at Union House.
Unless you eat at the food co-op, but you also have to bear that fucking tosser, mentioned in point 9 sitting at a table EVERY SINGLE FUCKING TIME you're there.

11. College students are the scum of the earth.
See point 9 and 3 for clarification.

12. I don't care if you're a lesbian, or queer, or gay.
I went to MacRob, for fuck's sake. We are lesbian central. This also means that all our teachers are either married or gay and our brother school is Melbourne High, house of the queer. So, if you're complaining about people not accepting you, stop creating the divide by segregating the "queer" from "straight." There is no war, you're just at uni and you finally realised you can slut around. Good for you, now get your fanjax out of my face and have a shower.
I actually like being your friend when you're not bitching about how you have crabs AGAIN and keep asking when I am going to switch sides.

13. Uni is actually an obstacle in my life.
So, because of all the previous points, uni is really just something getting in my way of actually having enough time to achieve what I want. My degree means nothing becuase my course no longer exists, because of the Melbourne Model, so I graduate with a Bachelor of "what course is that?" It is a waste of time and I am sitting here with my motivation and energy drained.

It is only week one.

In fact, I am so demotivated that I haven't cooked in three days. I have been eating raw vegetables again and today, a frozen vegan pie from La Panella.
Oh, I heated it first.

Notice the ticket infringement notice in the background of this that I am NOT going to pay? I am writing for it to be reviewed on the basis of having awful period pain and therefore unable to validate the ticket that I actually bought. Then, give them the list of side-affects of having an IUD, being allergic to Leverongestradt and a medical certificate stating so.
I can also not say that I didn't lather this golden beauty in tomato sauce. I love the stuff. Yes, I admit it. Surprise seeing as I am not Americano...hey?

Also, eating pies? Sigh. I went to the Preston Market with my sister the other week and didn't but groceries because I already had. And, because of the boys, I have developed an addiction to these mushroom pies, loaded with TVP and lacking animal fats. Yes...vegan.

If you haven't already noticed from this blog post, I am depressed again and I have to go see someone about getting more sleeping tablets, and maybe a "the-rapist" to yell at for a while.


La Panella
465 High St, Preston
03 9478 4443

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