9 posts tagged “class”

It happened a few days ago, but the semester ended and summer is here. Totally sweet. I've got a list of goals and things I hope to accomplish this summer, essentially just good habits that I want to start cultivating now that I don't have anything on my plate except for work.

Hmm. Internet seems kind of boring today. No interesting news or links to share. Ah well. Time to go back into my hole.

I'm taking a break from watching my academic life implode, something I'd be happy to comment on if you're curious. See, basically, I'm not sure what's wrong with me but it's physically impossible for me to do work in advance. Take this damn essay I have to write about a story I hate written by an author I don't care for to submit to a class I was forced to take; it's due on Thursday. This is Tuesday night. I -should- be working on it. And I've tried. And I've failed.

I'll get it done. I know I will. It might not be particularly good and it might drive me crazy, but I know eventually, I'll cave in and "just fucking do it." But I have to ask myself; why can't I do it now? Why do I procrastinate this? Why did I go to the grocery store to buy a frozen pizza? Why did I linger in the kitchen cooking it? Why did I recline in front of the TV for an hour after nibbling on it (I really wasn't that hungry.) Why couldn't I be working on my essay during those moments?

I don't know.

But it sucks that I can't knuckle down until the gun is directly against my temple, because I always worry that one of these days, I'm going to pass out drunk at my keyboard before I finish, or I'll crack under the pressure I willingly submit myself to, and the whole house of cards will tumble. And yeah, that's just a metaphor. No actual guns are involved here. It's just a stupid class.

But it still sucks and I wish I could change it.

Have you noticed that I only blog when I have something better to do? I have.

Anyway, the point of this post. My goofy little hit counter continues to scroll up ever so slowly, and I know it's not recording my own personal hits when I stop by to check for a stray comment. So, here's my question; who exactly is reading this? I'm curious. I know I've told a few people about this blog, but I can't imagine I'm consistent enough to earn more than a passing glance, even if I fancy myself as "very funny" when I'm motivated to perform in such a fashion.

Personally, I suspect it's a Google or Yahoo webcrawler combing through the vast, untamed warrens of "teh intertrons" to cataloged all in its patch, no matter how inane. But if you're an actual person and you're reading this, I wouldn't mind a comment. It doesn't have to be fancy. You don't even have to say anything. I'm just curious.

You might say that's who I am.

Still alive. Still hanging in there. I'm a little bit less exuberant now than I was in the weeks prior, but that is the nature of life; happiness and survival are not always contingent upon one another, and while some may think it a tad... extreme to refer to my efforts as a bid for survival, do note that I am speaking of survival in the more esoteric, emotional sense, in which I regard happiness and contentment as key components of survival. Because if you lack those things in your being... well, you're not really surviving. You're just sort of living.

One thing that I do appreciate about college, now that I'm back, is the almost ironic method in which I compose stories and poems; often I do this is the middle of a lecture in order to escape the boredom, or else as a course in rebelling against the iron authoritarianism that comes with "paying attention." There is a particularly amusing instance of this behavior when I choose to write short fiction in my short fiction writing lecture; it's as though I'm paying attention and not paying attention at the same time. I wouldn't call this necessarily ironic, since irony is not an amusing coincidence so much as it is the opposite outcome of what one should expect, a concept which I believe has been lost in the modern era.

Regardless, it's an amusing situation and one that I wouldn't change even if I thought the lecture was interesting, which thus far, it has not been. But then, I've never really liked English lectures. I only specialize in courses dedicated wholly to English because I like the homework in those classes.

-Draxle

Post Script: The title is a lyric from a Linkin Park song. It doesn't have anything to do with anything, it just happened to be what I was humming under my breath as I wrote this post.

Just a couple of things because, after looking at my non-specific little hit counter (I never bother to reset it, so who knows how accurate the damn thing really is) but it seems that there are, in fact, people out there aside from me who read my little blog, so, hey, this one's for you guys. Just writing to let you know that I'm still alive, and in fact, doing a pretty good job of living up to my promises that I made over my birthday and New Year's. So, that's pretty awesome. I'm not sure why I felt the need to sort of retreat from posting for a while, but it just seemed that I needed to curl up inside my own head and just regrow my emotional tendrils or limbs or... you know what, fuck it, the analogy got away from me. Sufficient to say, vacation time is over and I'm back in the business of writing things that only I, and few of my closest friends will probably ever care about. But hey, that's what this whole Vox thing is all about.

I'd write more tonight, since I'm feeling particularly writerly, but I really do have some minor homework to do. It's only the second week of class (and not even the first full week) but already I'm procrastinating on junk and wishing I could do something else, like read or play video games or whatever. I did, however, find time (or create the time by ignoring responsibilities) to watch Donnie Darko, which is now officially one of my most favoritest movies of all time. I'm hesitant to recommend it, though, because I'm the guy that includes Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain in my list of favorite movies, so consider yourself warned. If you happen to like movies in which reality itself is a questionable, unstable concept, movies that will leave you with that wonderful "WTF, I think I got smarter from watching this" feeling, then, by all means, jump in and thank me after you're up late at night researching the meaning of the film. Unless said research causes your real life and/or academic work to suffer, in which case, well, ah, sorry about that.

So yeah, I should probably get to that studying now, because unlike movies, even extremely fantastic ones, I know for a fact that studying will make me smarter. Or so I hope.

-Draxle

I'm writing this more for my benefit than yours, but I'm glad you've decided to stop by and share the journey with me. Basically, I'm writing this from a class that I hate, one that I may or may not have talked about in the past. It's a terribly, terribly boring class and the professor (if he is one, I'm not exactly certain of the qualifications there) gives bullshit lectures with stupid, opinionated statements. It's impossible to discuss anything, both because his subject matter is always nebulous, unfocused and boring, and when you actually do have something to say, he pretty much says, "Well, no, you're wrong." Doesn't matter what you're saying. You could even be agreeing with him and you're still wrong. That's how fucked up this class is.

I gave up on the class a long time ago. Mostly, I just bring my laptop, where I'd try to take notes in between looking at websites. However, I've noticed recently that the notes I'd write down were becoming shorter and shorter, likely due to a combination of his nebulous bullshit and my own growing inattention to said bullshit. However, it occurred to me that since I supposedly bring a laptop with me to "type my notes," it might look suspicious if I have my laptop out but aren't actually typing anything. So, I need to type something, hence... here I am.

I was originally just going to make a post about something else, but I really couldn't think of anything to say. That's the problem with this new job; I've had way less bastard customers to deal with. In fact, I haven't really had any bad customers yet (operative word), aside from three stupid people that didn't give me a tip. Here's a hint: tip a delivery driver. I've had a few people tell me that drivers shouldn't be tipped for doing their job, to which I reply: any job with a variable level of performance deserves a tip. What do I mean by "variable performance?" Essentially, that's my term for the scenario in which the employee's level of speed, skill and dedication affects the product itself. If you're working a counter at GameStop, it really doesn't matter how good you are at much of anything, since really, all you're expected to do is punch the keys on the register and put the video game in a plastic bag. A waiter, on the other hand, is actually taking care of his customers, making sure their drinks are refilled, they get their food quickly, efficiently and correctly, etc. That's the difference between a sit-down restaurant and fast food. You're not just getting a meal, you are getting a meal that is served to you.

Now, the delivery driver: my job is to get the pizza to your door. That's my job and I earn a wage for doing that job. Why should you tip me? Simply put, I have a lot more control over your experience than you might realize. I don't have a manager riding along with me, overseeing me. My motivation for getting to your door quickly (so that your food is hot, and you're not waiting an hour for it) is the promise that I'll be rewarded for putting in the extra effort. I'll drive more quickly, plan my route, and generally do whatever I can to get your pizza there quickly because I know that's what you want. If I wasn't being motivated by the chance of a delicious 4-5 dollar tip, I'd be far less motivated to really "try." Money is motivation; my experience in retail taught me that I would get paid the same whether I tried or not. But in delivery, the harder I try, the more I get paid, thus, I try to do a better job. It's a great system... assuming people remember how it works. Because, I guarantee, if I wasn't getting tipped for most of my deliveries, there'd be a lot more "oops, I got lost" happening.

So, remember to tip your delivery driver. It's the fuel that makes the system work. If you don't like tipping people, then drive down here and get your own damn pizza. I get paid for washing dishes and making dough, too, which is what I'd rather be doing if you don't plan on tipping.

But that's a rant against... what, three people so far? Most people understand the system and I like them for it. It's pretty refreshing, actually, to no longer see customers as enemies that must be dealt with. I'm serious, that's how I'd view a customer walking into GameStop: an enemy, an opponent. Can I score a reserve off him/her? Is he/she going to be difficult? How long is this going to take? It was a battle to see what I could persuade them to do, in order to protect my precious cache of "store numbers." It was an evil, twisted system and I hated being apart of it, which is a real shame, because I enjoyed the idea of selling video games in the general sense. The problem was, my preferred M.O. is to be available to a customer, to help them find something if they need it, answer questions if they have them, and generally just make their shopping experience as smooth as possible. I was, and remain, a believer in the idea that a better shopping experience will create better sales. I don't shop at places that I've been harassed or annoyed. I avoid restaurants where it took an hour to get a cold meal. And I don't go to game stores that only care about the subscription and the reserve, rather than actually making a smooth transaction.

So, it's nice to actually be able to operate in a capacity that I actually agree with (making a better experience) and get rewarded (most of the time) for a superior performance. Hopefully, this idyllic little bubble won't shatter too quickly. Although, I wonder what I'll rant about if I don't have any stupid people or policies to deal with. I might just have to go back to talking about kittens and YouTube videos.

-Draxle

Not a lot to talk about today. I don't know whether my inability to focus on my creative works is a result of overall laziness or if it might have something to do with the fact the college is crushing the creative juice out of me. I didn't think this was ever going to happen; I mean, I went to college so that I would write more, rather than sit around and play video games all day. But now, it seems like whenever I have even the remote interest to write, I'm usually sitting at my desk buried in so many procrastinated essays that by the time I'm done, it's so early in the morning it might not even be dark out. And that kind of frenzied, last minute writing really takes a number one one's mental health, not to mention makes the very act of sitting down to write something a painful torture.

On the other hand, I'm sitting here typing on this blog, whining about that unpleasant writing through, irony of ironies, more writing, so maybe I'm not so painfully afflicted as I like to imagine. Still, it'd be nice to have to write less bullshit essays and more, I don't know, poetry and fiction and whatever. You know, the creative things that a creative writing major actually does. Maybe I'm taking the wrong kinds of classes? I don't know.

I've noticed that my page view count seems to climb steadily, which makes me wonder if more people are reading this than I imagined. It's hard to tell, you know, it's not like I'm running a store where I can watch you come in and look around at the stuff, and then leave, a situation that leaves me secure in the knowledge that while you didn't buy anything, at least you stopped by and looked, which is really the only thing I ask for. Maybe people could start leaving comments or something? I guess that would represent actually purchasing merchandise at this imaginary store analogy, except that you wouldn't actually be spending money, so... yeah, I sort of lost my focus there. Let's move on.

What else do I usually do in this blog, aside from the whining? Ah yes, usually there's a link or two. Here's a good one: The Guild, a series of short videos about a group of people who play World of WarCraft waaaay too much. The sad part? I'm willing to bet that at least of quarter of the people I associate with (including myself) are or have been in this same situation: So it's Friday night, and...still jobless. Yay. Haven't left the house in a week. My therapist broke up with me. Oh yeah, there's a gnome warlock in my living room. Sleeping on my couch.

Why do we do this to ourselves?

-Draxle

Finally... after spending my entire weekend slaving over a hot keyboard, my projects are done. I can now take my scant few hours of sleep... before I have to wake up and jump headfirst into the next week's worth of work. But for now, at least I can sleep with the comfort and satisfaction of knowing that everything is completed. That's a good feeling, in and of itself

-Draxle

So, classes have started again. It's okay, I suppose. My schedule is kind of weird, a single hour-long class separated by long blocks of downtime that will be spent milling aimlessly around the Student Union. Maybe I'll install some offline computer games on my laptop to keep myself amused, maybe I'll do homework in those time blocks, or maybe I will write my creative works! The possibilities are endless.

But yes, I had my first class today... two more to go. The first one was, rather surprisingly, excellent. Not only did I stay awake through the entire thing despite it being the ungodly early hour of 11:00 AM, I was actually interested and engaged in the discussion. See, it's a literature class... big freaking deal, right, I mean, I'm an English major so literature sort of comes with the territory. For me, getting excited about literature is like getting excited for bread. It's not really the focus, it's just... there.

But this literature, if we continue with the bread analogy (or is this a metaphor... goddamn, summer ruins my mental capacities!) then this literature class can be likened to delicious sourdough bread pulled piping hot from the baker's oven. It's like the bread they serve at Beyond Bread, where one goes not just for the sandwich itself, but the bread that makes up that sandwich.

Because not only is this a literature class, it's a Gothic literature class. Better yet, it's a Gothic literature class that I didn't realize I signed up for... so not only is it something I'll enjoy and look forward to each week, it came wrapped as a delicious surprise. And who doesn't love delicious surprises? It's like Christmas on the first day of class. Not too shabby, really.

I'm dreading the next class, though.  Japanese Culture. Last time I took a class like this, I failed it rather miserably. I think it's because I don't like anime. Will I fit in with my fellow classmates? What will I do when it comes time for open forum discussion, and I am unable to keep up the pace with their frenzied talk of their "Gundams" and their "Narutos," or whatever is trendy and, you know, in at the moment.

I'd love to take a moment to discuss last night's D&D campaign, and specifically, my character's transformation into a dragonborn of Bahamut. It's totally awesome, but as my beloved and wise girlfriend explained to me after I enthusiastically described the character and the process, "it sounds like the most nerdy thing in the world." I trust her opinion on this, as she is a woman who understands my direction and my focus, and while she is not a nerd herself (she likes things like exercise and socializing too much to be one of our noble ranks), she is well versed in the myriad ways of our culture.

For a moment, I thought they were playing Paul Oakenfold's Aeterna over the PA system. That would have been totally awesome.

I want to write a story about entropy. I want to make it a gothic story.

-Draxle   

This is a rant.

Normally, you would expect that a person who enjoys sleeping till noon, would rather starve to death than summon the effort to cook a meal, and generally procrastinates projects not because he has anything better to do, but for the sheer principle of the procrastination, having a class canceled would feel like a generous boon. Sort of a surprise weekend in the middle of the work week, right?

Can you imagine a scenario where the aforementioned person (who represents me, in this scenario) would not be happy to learn that class was canceled for the day? No?

What if it was because this class was routinely canceled on average of twice a week?

In what has become absurdly routine, I often get up, get showered, dressed, get my books together, head out the door and take the twenty minute walk to campus (which I actually really enjoy), only to promptly turn around and head home when I see the "class canceled" sign taped to the door. Now I'm back at my computer, typing up a blog entry before I either go eat some noodles, or play WoW.

Now, as I said, I love to relax and, dare I say it, slack off a bit. But even I have a limit... at some point, I like to crack my knuckles and do actual work. My reason is because, if I don't work some of the time, then there's no point in relaxing, because I have nothing to relax from. You see? The best vacations, the best days off, are the ones that come right after a brutal, grueling tribulation.

There is also the fact that, while I am not valedictorian material, I did become a university student to actually learn, which is very hard to do when the professor plays hooky (or whatever) more than the entire class combined. I shudder to think of what my next semester will be like (because this is for my Italian class, and thus, everything you learn in the previous class is the foundation for the next one) when I've yet to really learn anything at all.

It really just sucks, and it's one of the reasons I'm so eager for this damn semester to end. I've said before that having only two classes has made it very hard to make my studies a priority... now imagine that one of those classes almost never actually happens. Yeah, your grades would slip too.

Next semester can't get here fast enough.

-Draxle