So I actually got myself to the University today. It took two trips and more than 45 minutes of standing in line, but I finally found out that French and Francais are considered the same language, so I don't have to go back to Faculte Saint-Jean. Thank God. I also found out that the Drama department doesn't keep waiting lists for its courses, and the only section of the course I need that fits into my schedule is currently overloaded, but, apparently, I stand a decent chance if I show up on the first day and talk to the prof. People can be booted if they don't show up for the first two classes, and with nice small fine arts classes that's actually enforceable.
One thing that irked me when I first got to the Arts Inquiries office, though, was the girl in front of me in line--a first year with her dad and younger sister in tow. She kept dropping her copy of this packet she had taken from the table next to the lineup. There was a big sign that read "I AM A FIRST YEAR GENERAL BA STUDENT. WHICH COURSES SHOULD I TAKE?" with an arrow pointing to a stack of these packets, which were printouts of a PowerPoint presentation. When she got up to the front of the line, I thought she'd accidentally been given two ID numbers, which may have been one of her problems, but it turned out that her real reason for being there was that she had absolutely no idea which courses to take, how to decide which courses to take or how to register in them. The woman helping her was explaining to her what a course description was. This girl was white, she spoke English with her family and she was a good North American plump. You'd think that she'd be able to figure this stuff out based on the literature the University would have sent her when she got accepted, but nooo. I had to wait for more than 15 minutes while this girl learnt what BearTracks was. And why the hell did she wait until now to try to register? She should have been doing that in April! Stupid first-years...
And now I return to this post after a rather long interruption. My mom was out for dinner with her friends tonight, and the three of them came back to our place to try our new espresso machine. Decaf, of course. These are sensitive middle-aged women we're talking about here. It's always interesting to hear my mother and her friends talk. They complain about husbands, children (I'm friendly with all their children, too), work and the hardware on their kitchen cabinets. I understand that venting is soothing sometimes, but, honestly, I grew up believing that a woman wasn't supposed to like her husband. Husbands were something to be dealt with. They were an obstacle to quickly getting what was wanted, they never came home in time for dinner, and they spent large amounts of time on their own ridiculous interests; it was a test of wifehood to see how gracefully you could handle the last of those. Some people are insane...
Hmmm... I think my dog might be getting sick.. He's laying next to me and is kinda... snoring. Well, a light doggie snore, anyway. Maybe he's got some sort of canine headcold... Oh! He shifted positions and is now breathing normally. Here's hoping it stays that way. I'm too young to have a bed partner who snores.
Anyway, I think that's about all for now. I have to wake up for a doctor's appointment tomorrow. Yay...
No comments:
Post a Comment