I’m in my thirties now. I have moved beyond the complaining years of my twenties, where I found that “something that sucks” related to anything I wasn’t interested in or didn’t want to put the effort into. I should be mature now. Right?
Since I’ve gone back to school, I’ve found (and shared) my thoughts on “higher” education. So if you’re a faithful reader, expect a few more sarcastic offerings on my perspectives on university (of which, you’ll remember, I have a self-appointed doctorate of university). Which brings me to my experience in this last semester. I treat education as my job because, in the end, it will hopefully get me a job. And while I sit here, in my first class of the semester, I have listened to a deeply monotoned professor talk about toasters and ice boxes in the 1940s for 43 minutes. Deeply passionate, I suspect. But nothing is translated into words. Or perhaps too much is translated into words, and that is the problem. The drone of the lecture is the favored format in University circles, as if by expounding on the greatness of suburbanization and how it affects my ability to eat a three-year old cheeseburger will change my eating habits as an individual.
Or perhaps it will. Perhaps I’m just complaining, and when I listen to slow speaking droning, it is much the same as when I listen to CBC radio – in the background, as filler, while I go about my day. For now, allow me to bless your day with a quickly crafted desktop freebie containing an important life lesson. Enjoy.
