Timestamp- The Point of No Return

With two institutions and four semesters in, there will be no turning back after today. There is no more time find myself or see the world. Of course, I never needed to do either. I have seen enough of the world to know where to be, and my astounding self-absorption never let me lose myself.

Lately I have been wondering if I even have a self.

That last sentence may sound strange to western ears, but it is a pretty common motif elsewhere. Current research seems to indicate that free-will is just a comforting illusion used to rationalize predetermined choices. If that is the case, perhaps I am just a body. Perhaps the “I” in the last sentence was just a schema fashioned by the world to attribute consciousness in a useful organism. Notable humans who have expressed non-self tend to exhibit the most moral actions. Perhaps the universe would be better off if this self-concept inside my body did not exist. Perhaps…


Six finals in half as many days have left me pretty fried. (There I go with a “me”s and “I”s again.) I’ve gotten eight hours of sleep in the last 72. Last night I awoke at 3AM due to an uncertain cause. Exactly two minutes later, I realized that I had a wet dream. It was not any wet dream through; it was if a bucket of come spilled in my bed. I’m the middle of a dry spell. (Obviously, since I had a bucket’s worth of pent-up sperm.) This body needs more sex.

Outside, it’s raining like a scream. I was walking to a final this morning while the clouds were still holding on to their treasures. The moisture in the air was palpable, tangible, an inevitable sign. The first drop landed on my forehead. It was huge, an obese raindrop. Then the rest came, as the clouds released everything they had worked for, giving rain away like homeless billionaires. A girl shrieked for attention, a few others ran for cover, many continued to walk blindly towards the next thing and the next thing and the next. I stopped, took a break, and embraced the tiny gifts…


So I guess I have reached the point of no return. If I go forward, I have simply put too much effort to change my ways. If I turn back, it has to be today, right now, this instant. I sit on the porch, watching the rain fall.

Out of Context Quote of Myself During Philosophy Class Last Thursday

"It's not like when little Billy asks how babies are born that you pop in porno and say, 'This is where you put the PENIS in and you KEEP ON A ROCKIN' ' "

Emphasis added by me while I said it.
And yes, I am that kid. Shame does not exist in me.

You know

You know when you life is so scheduled and you have so much to do that you lose your sense of self? That you are no longer a person but a brainless, soul-less robot who only exists through tests, papers, distressing social engangments, and fufilling indeterminate societal expectations?

Oh.

Really?

Yeah, me neither. Just fucking with you.

I'm going to go take a nap,

and some pills,

during my next class.

Notes From My 8AM Chem Class!

Pure substance - matter that cannot be separated into other kinds if matter by any physical process. Element – substance that cannot be broken down by any chemical reaction into simpler substances. Atom – every five minutes of my class, a part of my soul dies. Why am I punishing myself? Please someone, anyone, just kill me now. Just kill me now. No one’s killed me yet. Damn it.

…

Significant figures 1. All non-zero digits 2. all zeros between non- zero digits 3. ending zeros to right of decimal and non-zero digits 4. zeros at the beginning are NOT significant 5. ending zeros in number without decimal may or may not be significant 6. Oh my god, this never ends. Is it time to leave yet? Oh, it is still the first ten minutes of class. Damn it. That girl just left. Is it time to leave yet? Oh, she is just taking a call. That’s pretty rude. I should pretend to take a call and just leave. Oh, I’ve got an emergency call, I must take my backpack to answer it, I’ll say. This is very important, my mother’s dieing, I’ll say. She needs my backpack, I’ll say. Yes my mother was dieing last time, I do have more than one mother and they are all dieing, I’ll say. That’s right, and my last mother died while I was tying to leave Chem class thanks for fucking bringing it up, I’ll say. You should be sorry, I’ll say.

No, wait, better idea: I’ll have someone call me so I don’t have to make a beeping noise of pretend I’m being vibrated. Pretending to being vibrated is pretty funny, lol.

Wait, did I just laugh out loud?

Did anyone notice me? I should try to inconspicuously look around.

Okay, here I go.

…

I am positive that there is no way to inconspicuously look around a blank lecture hall. I guess I can pretend that I am really, really interested in the bland walls. It is statistically more probable to be interested in bland walls than to be interested in chemistry. Okay, here I go.

…

Oh my god, It looks like they are watching home videos from Auschwitz. I couldn’t have laughed, because all positive emotions are nullified be the abyss that is 8:00 AM Chem 101 in Forum Hall 103. I think looking at their faces made my day worse. Seriously, I feel awful. Like I’m vomiting poop. Like someone kicked my puppy, and by kicked I mean skewered and by puppy I mean my penis. I probably should be taking actual notes.

…

1in = 2.54 cm. 1 lb = 453.6 g. 1 cm3 = Why am I punishing myself? Please someone, anyone, just kill me now. Just kill me now. No one’s killed me yet. Damn it.

My Spring Break Starts Today

In which the term "Spring" means "the time of year when mountains of snow plummet down in order to shatter my dream of napping in my yard."

School Update: I just took two general ed tests and finished a project in my Learning Theory (Read: How to Manipulate Others) course in which I classically conditioned a simulated rat in various ways. Looking at those words makes it seem like such a non-accomplishment, but it was time-consuming and challenging. So stop looking at me that way.

Also, I have three midterms right after I return from break, which means that my break will be spent studying, writing papers, and sending resumes for summer jobs. So I won't be posting next week. I am sorry, commited lurker.

Introductory Paragraphs of Papers Juxtaposed With What I Was Really Thinking

The worldviews of ancient peoples survive today through the texts Epic of Gilgamesh and Genesis (What the hell do I know about Genesis and Gilgamesh? Time to bullshit!). The texts share similar themes; however, their perspectives on life differ drastically, and in many points oppose each other (Crap, all I wrote down in my notes Genesis=Happy, Gilgamesh=Sad). Because of certain differences, the worldview portrayed in The Epic of Gilgamesh is more appropriate in the modern age (If my response is different from the rest of the class, maybe he won’t know that I am bullshitting. Go team me!).


Modern students are able to learn the philosophy of Socrates through the works of his student Plato (But I don’t care). One such work is Plato’s The Apology, which describes Socrates’ courtroom defense against the accusations that Socrates corrupted the youth of Athens and committed blasphemy (I still don’t care). In The Apology, Socrates was found guilty of the accusations and sentenced to death (Sucks to be him). Despite the fact that Socrates did not fully prove his innocence, his philosophy is still useful and appropriate for modern students (I’m so stealing this one from Wikipedia).


The Satyricon was written by Petronius in the mid first century (What? There was a paper due last week? What the hell? Why didn’t anyone remind me?). A passage within The Satyricon, “The Banquet of Trimalchio,” features a fictional formal dinner during that time period (Oh right, I didn’t go to class). Moreover, the story describes the effects of freeing slaves in Roman society, which was at that point a recent social change (Believe me, I was doing something of the utmost important. I was fighting my addiction. That’s right I’m addicted. To laziness). By evaluating “The Banquet of Trimalchio,” one can easily perceive the negative attitude Petronius had towards the freed slaves (Hey, could I borrow your notes?).


In the early 14th century, Dante Alighieri wrote The Inferno, which details a journey through Hell by a fictionalized version of the author (So what’s this prompt about?). In the late 20th and early 21st century, Joss Whedon produced the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which followed the adventures of the fictional character Buffy Summers (I can compare this poem to any post-modern depiction of hell that I choose? Really?). In the series finale “Chosen,” Buffy Summers enters Hell with other women in order to fight the forces of evil (It’s really that open-ended?). Due to the corresponding settings, one is able to easily recognize the many thematic differences of the two works (Awesome). By examining the thematic differences between The Inferno and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one can evaluate the many differences between 14th century Florentine culture and 21st century American culture; such as the different perceived natures of Hell, the different roles of women in society, the different views on sexual ethics, the different mediums of storytelling, as well as the different moral approaches (I’m going to milk this one for seven pages. Then I’m going to put it on my blog. Twice.)

I'm Shameful

What up, bitches. Since I want to save what I’ve written for rainier days, but still want to contribute to my Shameful Thing, I’m posting an old paper of mine. It’s a research paper, which means it gets pretty dry at points. But if you stick with me I start talking about sex. And then I have an interlude of hot, sweaty, dirty sex. At one point there’s even some S&M. So read.


Buffy Vs. The Inferno

In the early 14th century, Dante Alighieri wrote The Inferno, which details a journey through Hell by a fictionalized version of the author (Matthews and Platt, 2008). In the late 20th and early 21st century, Joss Whedon produced the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which followed the adventures of the fictional character Buffy Summers. In the series finale “Chosen,” Buffy Summers enters Hell with other women in order to fight the forces of evil (Whedon, 2003). Due to the corresponding settings, one is able to easily recognize the many thematic differences of the two works. By examining the thematic differences between The Inferno and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one can evaluate the many differences between 14th century Florentine culture and 21st century American culture; such as the different perceived natures of Hell, the different roles of women in society, the different views on sexual ethics, the different mediums of storytelling, as well as the different moral approaches.

In The Inferno, the character Dante is given a tour of Hell by his idol, the Roman poet Virgil. They pass through nine circles of Hell. Each circle houses a different group of sinners who are being punished for their crimes. Each type of punishment corresponds with the particular sin. For example, gluttons, those who had constantly overeaten and were continually lazy during their lives, spend the afterlife wallowing in garbage in the third circle of Hell as punishment for their sin. In life, they did nothing but lie around and create waste. So in death, they do nothing but lie in waste. After touring through hell, Dante travels through Purgatory and Heaven in the aptly named poems Purgatorio and Paradiso. However in order to travel through Heaven, Dante must leave Virgil behind and follow his childhood love Beatrice instead. Through this exchange, the allegorical nature of the poem becomes apparent. Dante Alighieri wrote The Inferno as an allegory for how one becomes a moral person and enters heaven. According to Alighieri, one must first follow human reason, which is represented by the Roman poet Virgil. Afterwards one must then accept divine love, which is represented by Beatrice (Alighieri, 1982).

Similarly to The Inferno, Buffy the Vampire Slayer functions as an allegory. However unlike the allegory of morality in The Inferno, Buffy is an allegory for the feminist movement. In the television series, Buffy Summers is teenager chosen to be the slayer, the one girl who defends humanity by fighting demons on a regular basis. Using her supernatural strength and the magical abilities of her friends, she stops demons and other forces of evil that have traveled into the mortal world. In the series finale “Chosen” Buffy and her allies, tired of repeatedly being attacked by their enemies, descend into hell in order the rid the world of evil. In Buffy, Hell is the home of a multitude of vampires and demons. Once Buffy is in Hell, the supporting character Willow performs a spell which makes women throughout the world gain the supernatural strength of the slayer. This is where the allegorical nature of the series presents itself. Buffy and her compatriots Willow and Faith represent the leaders of the women’s civil rights movement, who used their strength of character to fight for the rights of women (Whedon, 2003).

The dissimilar nature of the two works creates a large amount of different material to compare. First to be considered is the different natures of Hell within the two works. In The Inferno, Hell is the place of punishment for sinners. Each sin has an elaborate punishment designed specifically for the sinners (Alighieri, 1982). In Buffy, though, Hell is simply a concentration of evil forces. This shows a clear divide between the two cultures that the works originated from. In the early 21st century American culture, Hell is no longer thought of as where people go to be penalized. Instead, it is thought of as a source of malevolence. Also, in Buffy evil forces are also portrayed as sexist ones. One of the final villains of the series is Caleb, a superhuman misogynist who wears the outfits of a priest simply because he enjoys their style (Whedon, 2003). This also touches upon the main difference between the cultures and the two works: the role of women in society.

In The Inferno, women are portrayed as a weaker sex, when they are portrayed. With one exception, women are excluded from the lower and more extreme regions of Hell. This is due to the cultural context of the work. In 14th century Florence, women were incapable of committing severe crimes due to their secondary status within society. Since they were not permitted to hold office, they could not commit the crime of graft; because they were not permitted to become high-level clergy, they could not commit the crime of hypocrisy; and so forth. The Inferno reflects this. The only sins women commit are sins of sexual passion.

Women in The Inferno are housed in the second circle of Hell, the carnal, where they are eternally swept by a whirlwind just like they were swept by their passions during life. The historical and mythological figures Semiramis, Dido, Cleopatra, Helen, and Francesca all reside in the second circle. The only exception to this rule is Potiphar’s wife, who resides in the eighth circle, where she burns with a fever eternally. But like the other women, her crime is a sexual one. Her sin was the desire for an illicit relationship with Joseph (Alighieri, 1982). This shows that women’s main role in 14th century Florentine society was to love men.

Conversely, in the 21st century American society, women are equals to men. Particularly in Buffy, women are the warriors. Buffy Summers, her fellow slayer Faith, and her friend Willow all possess superhuman abilities which they use to fight evil. It should also be noted that in the fictional universe of Buffy there are superhumanly strong men as well, such as the characters Angel, Riley, and Spike. However, the three women are frequently shown to be as strong as or stronger than the men. Additionally, there are many characters within the series who are normal humans (Whedon, 2003).

Despite the superhuman or human nature of the characters, all are equals. All make their own choices free from societal restrictions. Also in Buffy, the female characters take on roles that only men could in 14th century Florentine society. Buffy works, Willow and Dawn go to school, and Anya owns a business (Whedon, 2003). These were unreachable positions for the women depicted in The Inferno.

The purposes of each work may also explain many of the differences. The Inferno is an allegory of how one enters heaven and becomes a moral person by using reason and accepting God’s love (Alighieri, 1982). In contrast, Buffy explicitly rejects the morality and sexual ethics found in The Inferno. All major characters in Buffy, except for Dawn due to her young age, have extra-marital sexual relationships. In The Inferno, such relationships were condemned. Extra-marital sex was the reason why characters were punished in the second circle of hell. In Buffy and in 21st century America, though, sex is a healthy part of any long-term romantic relationship.

In addition, long-term gay relationships are depicted positively in Buffy, while in the Inferno such relationships are condemned. In The Inferno, the seventh circle of hell housed gays, classified as violent against nature. There, Dante meets Ser Brunetto Latino, an idol of his. For his crime of gay sex, he roams the circle of burning sand with others as flames rained down upon them (Alighieri, 1982).

Buffy, on the other hand, had a relatively upbeat depiction of gay relationships. In the fourth season, the supporting character Willow, a woman, met and fell in love with the character Tara, another woman. They continued to have a long-term romantic relationship with each other until Tara’s death. Nine months later, Willow became involved with Kennedy, another reoccurring female character. Also there were multiple reoccurring male characters that were depicted as gay (Whedon, 2003).

Beyond the differences of the role of women in society and sexual ethics, The Inferno and Buffy demonstrate another key difference between their cultures of origin. The Inferno is part of an epic poem while Buffy is a long running television series. This showcases the different storytelling mediums used in the two cultures. In Western culture, the chief avenue for storytelling has changed from poems and literature to television and film.

Even with all their differences, The Inferno unmistakably influenced Buffy. The television show used the superficial elements of the poem such as demons and prophecy to highlight the different moral approaches. In the poem, demons punished sinners, while prophecies which predicted events tied the poem to the real world (Alighieri, 1982). In the show, demons hunt victims who live in the real world, while prophecy is used mostly to foreshadow story points (Whedon, 2003).

By connecting Buffy the Vampire Slayer with The Inferno, producer Joss Whedon highlighted the different moral approaches. In The Inferno, one goes to heaven by using reason and accepting divine grace (Alighieri, 1982). In Buffy, one goes to heaven by simply being a good person. After dying at the end of season five, and coming back to life at the beginning of season six, Buffy Summers believed that she was in Heaven. Yet, when asked by a vampire whether or not God exists in the season seven episode “Conversations with Dead People,” she states that no one really knows (Whedon, 2003). In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, when a person enters Heaven, God is not involved. This is a direct rejection of the moral theory found in The Inferno.

The different themes of The Inferno and Buffy the Vampire Slayer reveal key differences between the Western culture 14th century Florence and the Western culture of 21st century America. Hell is no longer perceived as a place for punishment for sinners, it is now considered to be a place of general evil. Women no longer function in relation to men, now they are equal to men. Sexual ethics has changed drastically. Formerly only married sexual relationships were praised, now all long-term romantic relationships are sexual ones. Also, the main medium of storytelling has changed from epic poems to long running television series. All these elements may tie into the different moral approaches illustrated in The Inferno and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In The Inferno, the means needed for a good life are reason and divine grace. In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the key to a good life is good works. God is optional.


Notice how I didn’t devolve my paper with a detour of sexual deviation? Yeah, I was just fucking with you in the intro. Kinda makes you pissed, doesn’t it? But you gotta admit that the last line was killer.

Freud = My Grandmother

The relationship between modern psychology professionals and Sigmund Freud is a lot like how I relate to my racist grandmother. Don’t get me wrong, I’m indebted to my Grandmother. If she didn’t do what she did with her life, then I would not exist. There’s no question about that. But I really wish people wouldn’t listen to her when she speaks in public.

She goes on these rants that make no sense. It’s embarrassing and not an accurate reflection of my views at all.Likewise, modern Psychologists are somewhat indebted to Freud. He made a lot of noise and put psychology on the map with the help of other like-minded psychoanalysts (note: they were not psychologists).

However, all of his hypotheses (he never accumulated enough data to actually make theories) were hogwash. Free Association? Sorry, I’d rather talk about what is relevant and not waste decades of both our lives. Penis Envy? Women didn’t envy men’s members; they envied men’s socioeconomic power and protection under the law. Oedipus Complex? We’re not repressing it. We just don’t want to have sex with our mothers.

What makes this worse, though, is the overwhelming amount of attention his ideas receive in other disciplines and in popular culture. From what I can tell, most people are only introduced to psychology through freshman-level courses or through the media. Proper introductions to psychology tend to spend a healthy quantity of time on history, giving Freud an undeserved amount of the public eye’s attention span. But I may be wrong. Freud may have just created easy to remember misconceptions about human behavior.


Psychology is a science. Teams of scientists throughout the world dedicate their lives testing any hypothesis produced about human behavior. Additionally, psychology has a large, public field of practitioners who help people replace self-destructive behavior patterns and cognitive fallacies with constructive behaviors/thought patterns.

Freud’s unethical treatment of patients and his disregard for the scientific method has rooted into the public consciousness. And it annoys me to no end. I am frequently amazed by good friends of mine who, knowing that I am a psychology major and that I plan on dedicating my career to the study of human behavior, still repeat these public misnomers to me.

1. Ever read a book or watched a TV show where a psychologist falls in love with/seduces a client? I have. Any Psychologist who did that in real life would no longer be a Psychologist, they would be a highly educated yet unemployable bum (“Psychologist” is a legally protected term, those who demonstrate unethical conduct lose that status). But it is a common narrative cliché found all throughout popular culture.

I think this cliché is tied indirectly to the unethical behavior Freud had with his patients. Freud (and his peers) made a lot of noise. Unfortunately, that was all it was: useless, meaningless noise. Freud was obsessed with sex and aggression, which skewed any findings he could have had. Just to make it clear, I am not obsessed with sex and aggression. But I probably would be if I smoked as much cocaine as Freud did!

2. How about the idea that a Psychologist is a paid best friend, there for you to listen to you complain? I have met too many with this misconception, and I am sick of it. Psychologists are trained professionals. They are not advocates. There is a difference between a person conducting a therapy session and a person you go to the mall with.

3. Also, one thing I hear often (usually by those who did not put in the time and effort to finish a Bachelor’s) is that if they had continued their education, they would have gone with psychology. What?! What makes you think that you, who did not have enough patience and discipline to finish a Bachelor’s degree, would be in any way qualified to be a Psychologist? It is currently easier to be accepted into medical school than to be accepted by graduate programs in clinical psychology.


I want to repeat that: One is more likely to be accepted into med school than in graduate level clinical psychology programs (which is a prerequisite for any type of practice, or to receive the legally protected status of “Psychologist”). This is not a field for the short-minded or the unfocused. If you could not drag yourself into class, or could not self-regulate your study habits/job performance, then psychology probably is not a good fit.

So if we are hanging out and you mention Free Association, Oedipus Complexes, Freudian Slips, or the idea that a Psychologist is your friend who will sleep with you because she/he did not work that hard to obtain her/his status, please apologize for the insult you just gave my chosen field. Unless these misconceptions are used in the context of a joke that specifically points out that they are erroneous, then their use is unforgivable.


For Your Information: In my introductory Developmental Psychology course last semester, we spent a total of three minutes discussing the ideas put forth by psychoanalysts. For the first minute, my professor pointed out their ideas about puberty/adolescence as a time of “storm and stress.” For the next two minutes we discussed how stupid, wrong, irrelevant, and non-productive those views are. And then we moved on, never to mention the word “Freud” again.

"Some Highlighting"

This is what I get for buying textbooks from random strangers on the internet.

Beginning of the Semester Observations

Ahh, stress, how I have missed thee.

Has it been almost a month since we last were together? I know we briefly got it own while I was visiting relatives. But otherwise I actually rested, read for leisure, and laughed over our break. And we were on a break so don’t look at me that way, I know you moved on to retail business owners, anyway. But now it’s just you and me baby. Say hello again to weekly all-nighters. Not the fun, I’m so drunk I can’t fall asleep and this other drunk keeps smooshing into me , kind of all-nighters but the ones filled with over preparation, anxiety, and thoughts of inadequacies.

I shouldn’t be jumping ahead of myself. It is 1 AM while I write this so I may actually fall asleep tonight. Maybe.

Yesterday was first day of my second semester at my second cheap commuter school. And that is way too many numbers to think about in my current mental state. I have three classes so far Nutrition (ugh), Chemistry (double ugh), and Learning Theory. Let’s take them apart in the order from least to most intimidating:

A) Nutrition is full of Ed majors. And something about their preference to associate with children and their inability to make any decisions without calling their significant, soon to be married to and visibly pregnant by, other (who is always their third fiancé, if you count the ones in high school) makes me want to bludgeon them to death their color-coordinated three-ring binders. But other than that, I should be fine.

B) Then there is Chem. I have one of those professors who, if there were a God, would not be paid. The professor started off the semester trying to make himself relatable by saying “he wasn’t the best student ever”, i.e. he failed every course because he was too busy honing his beer gut. Somehow, he has landed an adjunct position and has chosen to hold his captives to standards that he himself was unable to meet when he was in our position. His idea of homework is for us to do one hundred problems and then he will grade us on the two problems the least amount of people finished.

I tell myself a little mantra to get through the hour, “After this, my only Core Class will be ping pong. After this, my only General Ed will be ping pong.” It makes everything easier.

C) Last, and most worrying is Learning Theory (essentially a course in behaviorism (guys like Pavlov and Piaget)). This sounds fun and interesting and manageable, except that I do not have the three hundred dollars to spend on the textbooks. Oh well, time to start my next crappy job search.

That’s only half of my courses. The other three include Physiological Psych which I took to see if night classes are for me. I like having class when I am actually alert. But I don’t like spending three hours in the same damn room. It makes me want to go insane, which would be good practice for the other psych majors.

Penultimately is Orientation to a Psych Major, which I like because it’s mellow.

Lastly is Sexual Ethics, which I like because we talk about sex.

And that’s the rundown. I wish I could elaborate but I’ve got to study. And get a job. And cure cancer. And prevent the apocalypse. You know, the usual.

End of the Semester Observations

I. I go to a commuter (read: cheap) school that was no one’s first choice. Everyone’s aware of this fact which leads to an interesting phenomenon:

A. People wear the hoodies of school they wished they were at, not of the school they attend.
1. Again, I go to a commuter (read: cheap) school. Everyone is working either full-time or 34.916667 hours of part-time work to pay our way through. Our parents don’t have trust funds or bank accounts per se that fund our educational endeavors.
i. And yes, my last employer prohibited me from working the last five minutes a week so they wouldn’t have to pay for dental.
ii. No, I am not bitter.
iii. I intentionally use double negatives.
2. However, I pass by at least ten Purdue sweatshirts by the time I arrive fifteen minutes late to my first class.
i. The first Purdue I saw, I slyly stated “Nice shirt” and used it as a window for flirtation.
ii. Turns out we had a lot in common. We were both transfer students working the 34.16667 hours a week on top of 15 credit hours of school that combined form into a monstrous devil that slays social lives.
iii. But now, the shirts are just irritating.
iv. I try to ignore the logos, but there is nothing quite as grating as the people around you not valuing what they do. We are students. We are learning. Be proud of the institution that is enabling you to grow into a better person and receive a salary you don’t deserve in four years.

B. Today was the last day of the semester prior to finals week.
1. In my 200 person Physics course I counted the dozens who enter the class that I didn’t recognize. I lost count as the Herd of Those Who Only Attend on Test Day entered.
i. It’s comforting to know that I could have established a relationship with all of them if we didn’t all work 34.916667 hours a week.
ii. No, I am not bitter.
2. In my 40 person Literature as Art course, the girl who sits next to me has her entire school paid for by financial aid because she got knocked up last year. I would be jealous but…
i. I pretty sure she’s not going to graduate
ii. And I have a feeling that her kid won’t, either.
3. I took my Humanities final today, because I am being taught by a grad student and he is the second coming of Buddha.
i. Reason why he is the second coming of Buddha #1: He let us write open ended research papers, which allowed us to relate the works to our lives.
ii. Reason why he is the second coming of Buddha #2: He let us write as much as we wanted, and determined the total worth of the paper by the page count which the students had complete creative control over.
iii. Consequently I wrote a mountain of moderately above average papers with ridiculously long page counts.
iv. Therefore, I only needed to get 16 points out of the 60 point final to get an A.

C. Life is good.

D. I probably should be paying attention to the lecture right now.

To the Jackass in the Front Row:

Hey. Hey! Stop talking. No, I don’t care. You need to hear this. So stop talking.

Before I met you I assumed that all jackasses were males. It seemed like a natural extension for stupid/insecure men to butt into conversations when they possessed no relevant information or viewpoints. But you are an exception to the rule. Before you, I had no idea a person with a vagina could also be a dick.

What? How can you be a jackass? I certainly understand your confusion; your vajayjay tricked me too. And we both know you are not the brightest crayon on the stupid train. Did you notice how I mixed metaphors? You didn’t? That’s because you’re not the brightest crayon on the stupid train!

At first, I believed you to be a regular, if less than average in grade point average, college student. I had formulated a schema in which you simply were an unfortunately open extravert. But then you told the class that you remember when gas prices were less than a dollar. Never mind that the professor who is TWICE YOUR AGE doesn’t remember such times. And after the professor called you out on this, did you balk? No. You decided to laugh unironically, bob your head, and tell the lecture hall that you are twenty-five, and therefore are older than anyone else in the room.

Now, common vernacular has a term for a man who once proven wrong, brings up that fact that they are defective and are therefore right. So when you proudly proclaim that it has taken you seven years to achieve a bachelor’s degree, there is only one word for your condition. My lady, you are a Jackass.

Also, I have begun to take bets on whether you log onto Myspace or Facebook when the lecture starts. Have you ever noticed how all those who recreationally use their laptops sit in the last two rows, so that two hundred people aren’t beaming down at their social site stalking/Youtube video watching/transvestite spanking porn addiction? Of course you haven’t, that’s why you sit front row center, as if your close proximity to the professor would guide the information into your brain. It doesn’t, as your failing grade clearly demonstrates. You do know that you eventually have to pay those student loans back, right?

Wait; did you even hear what I just said? This is important so you need to stop talking. No, I don’t care. You need to hear this. Stop talking. Hey. Hey!

Two Weeks Notice - Part 3

Sunday September 16:

Today was the last Sunday I’ll ever have to work as a telemarketer. As you can probably guess, Sunday’s are the hardest days to get a sale. Sample Sunday conversation:

Me: I can give you free television.
Lead: I worship THE LORD on Sunday!
Me: I apologize. Have a good Sunday.
Lead: Go to HELL, MOTHERFUCKER!

I am not exaggerating. I especially enjoy the folks who tell me that they do not take calls on Sundays, because they evidently forgot that fact when they answered the phone.

It was another excruciatingly slow day. For some reason, every terminal was filled. Usually, there is only a hundred or so working on Sundays. Today however, two hundred people were crammed in; all yelling over each other so the leads can hear them. As a result of the two times the amount of employees, there were half as many calls for everyone. Consequently, boredom and downtime. But that did give me a chance to work on homework.

I wish I could elaborate on the subject, but I’ve got to go. I will write more later, preferably on the last two sections so that this has some sense of symmetry.


Monday September 17:

I don’t remember Monday. Sorry.


Wednesday September 19:

First, before I enlighten you about my Wednesday, I need to get some exposition out of the way. In the previous weeks, I have had just enough free time to barely cover my day-to-day assignments. Since my schedule has been overscheduled and overfilled, this Tuesday evening was the only time I had to start and finish an eight page paper. So at 3 A.M., I finally make it into the land of sleepdom. Five hours later, I turn in the paper.

At 8:50 AM, I promptly leave the lecture hall, travel to the library, go up to the top floor where all the comfortable chairs live, and pass out. After approximately half an hour of bliss, one of the University’s Public Relation Specialists (read: Tour Guides) arrives with 50 thunderous high-schoolers. In the middle of her speal about the new, multi- million dollar facility filled with wonderful arrays of knowledge, I wake up, crankily say a few choice words, roll over, and fall back asleep all before I realize that I am in a public place. Of course five seconds after this I become lucid. I look around and see that while I was unconscious, seven others thought I had a good idea. The eight of us had been lying equidistantly in comatose states when the Tour Guide arrived. “Yes kids, enroll in the school of the homeless.”

At noon, I took the physics test, drove home, slept some more, and then drove to work. I suppose I should have more memories from work, since 6.5 of the 8 total hours I was awake today took place there. Oh well. I’m a student, not a worker, anyway.


Friday September 21:

Back when I started the first entry in this journal, I had the ending all figured out. Flashbacks would explain my supervisor’s reaction when I told her I needed to quit. Then, I would intercut anecdotes of my last night with details of my first few days at this job. It would have been a minor masterpiece since my first night and my last strangely paralleled each other. It would have allowed me to compare the apprehensive beginner with the assured expert I had become. However, the details don’t seem that important anymore. And honestly, most of that first night has faded from my memory. I walked through the employee exit for the last time tonight. I don’t need to go back.

Also, tonight I talked to a Romanian immigrant. After I separated his last name into its syllabic components, he responded by saying, “Yes. It is I, Markovotsky,” with the same inflection and cadence as Bela Lugosi. Luckily, he hung on me before I blurted out that I missed Count VonCount. It is rare that you ever find someone that passionate, especially about addition.

Two Weeks Notice: Part 2

Monday September 10:

I have fifteen minutes to kill, so off to the library I go. The library is the most useful building on campus. I have yet to check out a book. Last week, I went inside the library to use the reading rooms as napping rooms like normal. But when I left, to my horror, part of the huge field of dirt had been covered by grass. Many universities have scenic views. But we had a huge field of dirt. It made us unique. I miss it.

At 3:15, I leave the library to go to work. At 3:50, I’m clocked in and ready to take calls. For some reason, Karyn, the benign sixty-something woman who occupies the cubicle across from me, didn’t go to work. Is she sick? Or on vacation? Did she quit? I don’t think she would, even though she was as fed up with the campaign change as much as I was. I look around for familiar faces and I don’t see Thin Blonde Bitch as well. Thin Blonde Bitch is aptly named because one night she had an 18 minute (I watched the clock) diatribe concerning every detail of this job. Also, she once attacked a vending machine that wouldn’t take her dollar. I keep my distance.

Since Karyn’s gone, Laura and Tim are the only employees in my campaign that started working here before me. The twenty-two others were all hired within the last three months. Also, there are three new people in the monitoring room tonight, listening in to everyone in a sales campaign. Once this becomes common knowledge, Laura promptly says “Screw this!” and takes off. Tim ditches as well, leaving me as the sole veteran of the campaign.

While we are monitored, we can be written up every time we don’t rebut. Rebuttals usually go like this:
Lead: I’m not interested.
Me: Well, actually you are interested because this is a great deal!
Lead: No!
Me: Yes! Let me sign you up!
Lead: (Sigh) Okay.

If one can fake sincerity while being aggressive, people will immediately cave. One night I made 18 sales (back when the goal was 9) simply because I overdosed on Claritin-D and inadvertently sounded like I cared. Tonight, I’m too tired to exhibit faux-sincerity. The customers misinterpret my lackluster rebuttals as signs of a pushy salesman, when in fact I deliberately speak to them in the least convincing manner. However, since I say a rebuttal, I can’t be written up. This way I don’t have to list ‘terminated’ on any future applications.

In one of my last calls, a guy tells me that he wants to decrease his bill. I was supposed to say to him that the deal would save him five dollars but instead I explained what he was paying for HBO and Starz. Then I gave him the customer service number where he could get rid of them. So instead of making the company another ten dollars a month, I cost them twenty-five. So it goes. My shift ends at 10:40. On my way home, I maintain a steady 70mph and hit my driveway at 11:10. Counterproductively, it then takes my brain over an hour to fall asleep.



Wednesday, September 12:

At school today, I ran into Rachel, a girl I known since Kindergarten. She’s a commuter as well. We’ve gone to the same elementary, junior, and high schools. Now we’ve managed to end up at the same university. All our conversations tend to follow the same pattern. There’s an inevitable reference to our six-year-old selves and the awareness that we have occupied the opposite sides of the same building most of our lives. But it is always nice to catch up.

We ran out of leads tonight. So for about twenty minutes we have nothing to do. I end up talking to another Rachel (This one is in her forties), who is sitting next to me. We exchange office gossip about how we’re supposed to go home at ten, or at least that’s what they told us when we were hired. Apparently, a few employees have alerted corporate about the deception. Exactly two seconds after Rachel informed me of this, we got to go home half an hour early. Sometimes life hands me a present. Sometimes I get to have eight hours of sleep.



Friday September 14:

Next week I have an Ethics essay exam on Tuesday, a Humanities paper due on Wednesday, a Physics exam on Wednesday, and a Psychology exam on Thursday. It is also my last week at work, so Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday I’ll have no time to do the necessary studying. Additionally, I’m using this journal as a means of procrastination. I really should be writing that paper.

At work, Karyn and Thin Blonde Bitch returned, so I guess they didn’t quit. I made a big bad nine sales. I was supposed to make thirteen. At one point, I closed my eyes for an hour, only opening them to glance at the lead’s name and price information. I’m such a hard worker.

I only have four more days left at this job. I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself afterwards, but I also have no idea how I’m going to survive next week. I need to stop procrastinating.