Professors.
If you could hear me right now you’d be very impressed with the amount of venom I can inject effortlessly into that single utterance. I’ve had maybe two good professors since I started college. It’s not like they don’t have M.E degrees and PhDs, because they do. It’s amazing how they still know so little. You would think a person who’s doing his PhD would at least not read out from the prescribed text book and make it sound like last month’s obituaries.
One of my professors is supposed to be brilliant. She overloads us in the lab, refers a gazillion books and gives us notes. What more would anyone want right?
If only I could manage to stay awake in her class. I’m not saying normalization and functional dependencies are a lot of fun, but they definitely can’t be as bad as she gives me the impression that they are.
Are my parents paying my college fees so I can enjoy all the benefits of a boredom-induced coma in class??!
Okay, that didn’t pack as much of a punch as it did when a friend of mine in med school exclaimed, ‘I can’t believe my dad’s paying lakhs so I can go examine shit in college!’
Anyway, metaphorically this pretty much stinks as well so it’s not entirely inappropriate to draw parallels between the physical and the spiritual in this case.
I end this entry on another vitriolic note: Professors!
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