Me? Blog?

I don't have the capacity to post right now. Mentally, that is. I don't have the neurological function required to create an intellectually stimulating string of words. What I can tell you, however, is that I just had the most amazing weekend.

Okay, maybe that's the sheer amount of awesomeness I encountered during the weekend talking. But, dammit, it is only fair that I can be insane during my sister's wedding. I even managed to function like a normal human being (SURPRISE!). Maybe the inspiration for this post is coming from the fact that I have put on my William Wallace kilt and regalia and am ready to go regain some semblance of what my life should be, disregarding the fact that art history professors ("professors" - they're all grad students, really) are hellbent on destroying my every hope and dream.

Yes, I am completely serious about this.

Let me explain.

I have been in 2 art history classes in the past 2 sessions, online, because, let's face it, I have been busy, and I don't have the time for this every day class thing. Over time, it has become apparent that my professors have no professional respect for my pure genius, and moreover, are dismissive of any ideas that do not come directly from their own mind or the readings they assigned. WOW! It's almost as though a liberal arts university would prefer that we not think for ourselves. Wait a second, seriously? Am I twelve years old? I am not learning my multiplication tables. I am entirely sick of being told "well, yes, you're right, but be more specific."

HOW ABOUT YOU BE MORE SPECIFIC?

This has been my issue throughout my entire life: I always know exactly what I'm talking about, but people expect me to "show my work." You know what? Screw you, I'm tired of showing my work. I know what I'm talking about, you know what I'm talking about (if you're anywhere close to smart enough), so let's cut this charade. I'll be willing to accept the fact that you're bitter about your career choice and would rather be doing something else if you'll accept the fact that I am fully aware of what I am talking about and that your critique of my assessments stems from the fact that you're scared a student could possibly understand more than you do.

Wait, am I talking too fast? I apologize. Call me next time Courbet's work becomes too confusing for your dull, unimaginative brain.

Go back to your sociology major, you moron.