The Dark-Eyed Mistress of Sweet, Sweet Pain (jenni_the_odd) wrote,
The Dark-Eyed Mistress of Sweet, Sweet Pain

  • Mood:
Well I'll be.
I do believe this is the best use for a Mac, ever.

If ever I get married, I want Nicole to take pictures at the wedding. Because then they will not be your typical cheesy wedding poses. They will be random shots of trees and lace and people's asses, all photographed very artistically. And I'd wager I wouldn't be in a single photo. Nice.

Spent day being alternately cold, hot, and headache-y. Am now part of Greg's renderfarm. Wheee.

Also spent day wondering why the hell I am in college.
Determined that the basic reason is as follows:
My parents wanted me to.
That's it. Done deal. They offered to pay for it, and I went 'hell, free ride'. And I am going to feel guilty 'til the day I die for making them pay so much for something I don't really feel I'm going to make any use of. And I'm not making use of it. I don't like going out. I don't like the idea of people seeing me. If I can get away with not attending class without sacrificing my grades, I won't go.
I hope to god I'm not stupid enough to attempt some profession where a knowledge of Biology is needed. I have begun to hate the subject. It puts me to sleep.
Sociology is lots of names that mean nothing to me, and a whole lot of common sense. The fact that this stuff is apparently not common sense to everyone else has dimmed my view of the human race (see Jenni be a snob!). I made these observations as a child. Geez, people.
Algebra is logic and is simple enough when I can be bothered to sit still and do it, but it bores the hell out of me. I know enough math to function, I can calculate interest, balance my checkbook, and handle a cash register with no problem. Beyond that, you lost me.
I'm an English snob. I've been turning in first drafts and getting A's all my life. Editing is a frustrating and worthless process with most of my writing. Usually so long as I feel something about the subject I can churn out a decent paper which wants only an occasional spell-check. For me the only revisions I will do are re-writes. If I wanted something like so, I'd have written it that way in the first place, dammit. Hence, I have issues editing other people's work without redoing it myself. Hence, I hate that 'peer editing' shit that every English teacher since the dawn of time feels is so necessary. Frankly, through much of my educational experience, my peers have been morons. I don't want or need their opinions of my work. And they don't give it anyway, since the last time anyone suggested any changes to something I used in peer editing, I think I was in elementary school. There is, however, the problem of apathy. Frankly, I don't care about some of the subjects we're told to write on. Either I don't know enough about the subject, or I just plain don't give a damn. And when I don't care, I wind up turning in what I consider shit. It worries me that it gets the same grades as the papers I rather like.
Spanish? It's a pretty language - more importantly, a useful one - but I have so many problems with the way it's taught. Is there, possibly, a... Hmm... less silly method of teaching? I mean, bright designs and silly videos are all well and good, but my teachers have used curriculum that sounds exactly the same every year I've taken the class. And we never really learn anything new. Each year, 1.75 semesters are spent reviewing, and then .1 semesters are spent on new information. And the remaining .15 (for those of you keeping track and wondering why my math is fuzzy) is more review for the finals. I dun get it. I'm an adult, for chrissakes. Give me a list of as many vocab words as you can collect, give me the basic rules of grammar, cut the crap, and let me start talking. Repetition does nothing for me. I can say the Spanish alphabet approximately one and a half times before I grow bored and begin making with the funny voices. I would like to know a lot more about the culture of the countries we 'study' (the supposed studying of countries in Spanish classes is the biggest fucking joke in the world.) but looking up information on the actual, interesting aspects of culture usually results in - you guessed it - documentation in Spanish that I cannot quite understand. Very annoying. I often wish very much my parents had taught me Spanish as a child. I assume they did not because my mother's grasp of the language was less than good, and my father was usually working and therefore had little time to instruct me on what the funny noises they made actually meant.

My major? Damned if I know. Dealing with humans is an on-again, off-again ability if I have to interact with them beyond, say, ringing them up at a cash register or selling them things. My knowledge of computers is not what it should be - most of my 'abilities' with them are logic and sheer dumb luck. Things like graphic design are fine... so long as I'm feeling creative. Which is a problem. Because most of the time, frankly, I don't wanna. Don't even talk to me about the maths and sciences, because I will kick you. Art is not an option. When I do draw, I. Draw. Fucking. Cartoons.

So what am I getting out of college thus far? Mostly, I am becoming very annoyed, and I spend most of my time sans pants (when I am in my apartment, clothing is optional. Hey, there's a reason I don't turn on my webcam). That's about it. Learning to function on my own? Non-issue. I can handle being alone with little to no problem, and I am an observant creature. I watched my mother run a household of 3 to 11 people throughout my life, and I made note of things she did and did not do. My one redeeming quality is common sense, when I choose to employ it, and I can make good use of it.
I also have an overwhelming, bewhildering sense of "I am not supposed to be here". I always assumed I'd die before my 18th birthday. Now I figure it's been pushed back to the 23rd or something. I am serious when I say that if I do not manage to do something stupid, or if something utterly random does not happen to me (say, a cow falling through the roof and crushing me - which would be a very humerous way to go!), I will more than likely wind up killing myself somehow in a fit of whatever-it-is. I get like that sometimes. I don't have big, sharp butcher knives in my apartment. There is a reason. I don't have bleach or anything like that beneath my sink. There is a reason. It's not an issue of "oh, my life is so horrible, mommy never loved me, blah blah blah". My life is good. There's just this need to die. Dunno why it's there or where it came from, but it's been there for a while now and I don't imagine it's going anywhere. And, given that the mortality rate for humans appears to be at 100%, it will win someday. Until then, I don't know what the hell to do with myself.

I used to be terrified that I'd die without leaving any sort of mark on the earth. Now I know it's pretty much inevitable. I used to want to be an actress, a singer, a writer, an artist, a "somebody". Now I know I'm too fat, to hoarse, to boring, and too uninspired. Oddly enough, I don't ever think I had that 'picket-fence' dream of marrying somebody and settling down to pop out a few kids. I wanted to have a lot of animals instead.

So what am I gonna do?
Same thing I did in high school, I guess. Turn in my work when I remember to, and wait to see what happens.

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