Today I realized that the next month is going to do things to me someplace very uncomfortable. Like the back of a Volkswagon. My schedule and impressions are as follows:
This seems like it'll be interesting and fun. The prof is well-spoken but funny enough to throw out the following gems just in the first hour of class:
1. (When speaking to a student whose name apparently sounded exactly as it was spelled) "You can reduce a man to rubble with just one word - when he asks how to pronounce your name, just narrow your eyes like this *squints into a bitchy expression*, and say 'PHONETICALLY.' I guarantee he'll be yours." The girl to whom he was speaking sounded unimpressed, but you know what? I would personally LOVE to know a man who would be affected at all by that play.
2. "He had what my less-refined friends in New York would call...shit *sigh*...for brains."
6:00-10:15PM (Monday-Thursday, that's right, I'm scheduled for 16 hours a week of this)
I asked the opinion of a fellow English major before I signed up for this class, and he said that there would be math required in this course but "not too much." That's encouraging. And, as I recall now that we've had a lecture (replete with an animated presentation about Saturn's rings and the discovery thereof), I have a big ol' boner for space. And I have a friend in this class - someone who was in my Literary Criticism class last semester and in my Chaucer class which just finished.
So those are my classes. The profs both seem pretty amusing, so I'm excited to get going on the material...because I'm a fucking geek, I'm slow to learn from previous fuckups, and/or I love punishment? All of the above, I'm sure.