raised hands.

sleepy-eyed and foggy-headed, mostly as a result of boredom over anything else, i switch off the television set, disgusted with a lack of quality television programming on friday evenings. don't even get me started on the sort of crap that floods the tube-waves at four in the morning. sure, supernanny might suck tonight, but the best things about being blonde always sucks. i miss my travel channel, something this area is seriously lacking as well as needing. nevertheless, i could be reading, but really... it's a friday for goodness sakes.

with the advent of classes and the subsequent amounts of copious reading that has so far confined me in my apartment, i've watched my social life take a dive - and not in a good dive bar way. what the hell happened to me? i wondered one morning, waking up far earlier than usual for the sole purpose of reading for class. who does this? then again, as i sit in class and listen to the page citations accompaning the in-lecture questions my front-row peers ask of the professor, they probably do, i thought.

there comes a time, i believe, when it is just vulgar to name drop in a class, where it is almost certain no one esle knows who's name is being dropped. there comes a time, i believe, when it is just rude to email a professor with a respose to a reading the same day the reading is distributed (so rude that the professor has to mention the incident to the rest of the class the following week); and there comes a point in time, when it is just disgraceful to print out outside critiques of assigned readings to bring to class to further critique, when it is clear no one else is interested except [only mildly possibly] the professor. this is class! i feel like screaming (yet only silently doing so in my head), not an episode of the apprentice. welcome to graduate school, i presume. where are the reality television show cameras? there is nothing quality about this sick show either.

in all matters of opinion, our adversaries are insane.
: wilde.