To Piss Off the English Dept.
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: "Spit it Out" by Slipknot
"Fuck me, I'm all out of enemies."

I recently made the decision to wave advisement for my major, though it might not have been the brightest of ideas looking back at it. This is my first year with a declared major in English (most likely Lit, but I'm still not positive on that one), though the department's advisors' office hours are terrible, absolute shit. Rather than waste another three hours of my already short time waiting for a ten minite conversation saying "Take some courses in English, and some that aren't," I thought it best to talk to the secretary and get the block off.

The dirty looks they threw at me were almost rewarding, made me feel like I'd beaten a twisted system.

Apparently there are certian English courses that are much more vital than others to take, and they were trying not to tell me about them until advisement, trying to see if I was the right material for their department. I don't expect for anyone to deem me anything until they see my work, why should I care what they think right now? It's a rethorical question, I know first impressions are important, but I'd rather not make that my first impression on them. What a shame for them, I found out what classes they were and already regestered in 'em.

On a lighter note, I'm looking forward to my next term. This one's been a mean practical joke, it's going to make my GPA cry. Four courses - two with the reading of three on their own - was a terrible idea. I think I'll be caught up in credits now but I don't think it was a fair trade.

As it is, I should be writing a paper about Eileen Chang and why Communism is bad, which is slated to be the first paper in the last two months that's on time-ish while at the same time reading about the history of China and planning the "Staircase to Infinity". Oh, if only I could live off of retail and not need a degree...

Rejection of Ideas
Not too long ago I had a run in with the first English teacher I've ever disliked. She's also the first educator since sixth grade I've ever looked at and said to myself "Wow, what a bitch." Those that know me know that I'm not one to wish ill on people, even if just because it's not nice to do. This cunt earned it.

Her name is not important, only the fact that the pronuncation is French because it's ugly sounding the rest of the time. She's got some ugly views too, like the way she's embraced and forced upon her classes a bastardized version of Existentialism, which a good friend of mine was able to link to Satanism. Actually, that's the comment that sparked this whole thing.

For a college professor to outright reject ideas about literature in such a way that the student is made to feel inferior, something terrible must have happened over the course of her life. Perhaps she was beaten as a child, maybe she ate too many paint chips. Either way, I'm not all that fond of her and her watered down New England accent.

The funny thing about this whole situation is that she likes me as a student, because I engage conversations that she normally wouldn't have been able to have, while at the same time passing the sarcasm around the room without her even noticing it. For a 'substitute lecturer', she sure misses quite a bit. She reminds me of a puppy, like a beagle or something. Might just be the hair and eyes though.

This entery isn't ment to be coherent or insightful, or deep or amusing. It's just a few paragraphs about a bitch. Don't think too much of it.

Rant Repost: Politik
The Rant Reposts are rants of mine from the past that I liked so much that I saved and salvaged them from the forum that they were originally posted at. The forum's dead now, but my writings live on in the absence of my time to write something new again. Enjoy it, to the whoping four people who know about this and the two people who might read it.

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I can't say that I speak for anyone else at all here on the subject, but I can't stand people who send things in the mail, online, on the street, door to door, or anything else trying to sway my vote one way or another. If I didn't like someone already, then telling me that the other guy is stupid won't get me to change my vote. Likewise, if I like someone, someone with a pamphlet that says "Vote ______ for _____, IT'S THE RIGHT CHOICE!" is going to be used to clean myself in the closest stall.

Another thing I hate is when pople ask who you voted for the day after election day. "Private Ballot" isn't enough to silence them anymore, I find that a good left hook (I'm a lefty) answers their question when a refusal doesn't. Not only's it anoying, but it's rude and causes huge losses of respect for any who still impose it.

It's not as bad this time around because the President's office isn't up for grabs yet, but last year it was sickening. "Vote Bush!" "Vote Kerry!" It was amazing - after listening to what both sides had to say, I realized that neither was saying anything. None of the street solicitors had any real knowledge of their candidates' standing on the vital subjects. None of them really seemed to know much more than their party and the name that they were endorsing.

The online ones were even worse with the spam in AIM, Xanga, and probably Myspace as well. "~VoTe KeRrY 2004 4 PrEzZ!~" "vote bush because kerry (insert lude action without punctuation or capitals here)" and visa versa all over the place. I can only hope that someone in the know infected their PC's and/or laptops with some hideous trojan or hydra virus.

Feel free to have your own stand point, but please be prepaired to defend it.

Engines of Creativity is a Lame Expression
The title hasn't got any deeper meaning, don't look for it. Just something that came to mind.

Today was a fun filled, action packed day of job hunting. I'd like to think I shot a few in the face, but the wound hasn't had time to set in yet. I'll know if any of them liked me in a few days. Eight seperate stores, shoppes, and recreational facilities have my name on file now, and with any luck some person with a "Human Resources" tag on is thinking "Hmm... this fellow sounds like someone I would want providing his service to my company. I'll call this chap first thing in the morning!"

In reality, it'll probably be some overweight dude at a computer bouncing between porn and the stack of applications for his day job. This all, however, is moot, and not nearly as important as the bus ride home from the center of the Island.

The sky was a blue-grey, and the sun was going down over the man made mountain of trash. Had I not known it was the dump, it might have been one of the most stunning things I've ever seen. I claimed a spot on the nearly empty bus on the far right side, sitting atop the engine. An elderly black woman with a stroler delivered awkward, fearful glances at me often, which I accepted with a warm smile. My headphones were loud, pumping out rantom goodness from a mix cd I'd made the day before. To pass time, I melted into my copy of The Stranger and forgot all about the black woman.

Albert Camus and I have an understanding, our agreement is simply that he provides me with fantastic reading and I provide him with my understanding and sympathy, then we call it even. I'd been taking my time with The Stranger this time around, hoping to find some detail that I'd missed in the past (not that there ever are any).

I sat on that engine with Camus in hand for close to three quaters of an hour before my stop arived, and the black woman had gotten off with the assistane of a man sitting by the back door. It made me smile to know that people still cared about eachother, even between total strangers. That was the sort of compassion that was needed in the world, the only thing that the powers that be seem to lack around the globe.

It felt really good inside to watch.

I thought about the day alot as I walked home from my stop, still listening to the mix in my ears. "Back to Blue" - a song that my good friend Chris created - was playing when I realized why it felt so good to see the old lady and the child leave the bus with aid. The guy that had helped her was doing exactly what I would have wanted done, though acting on his own accord. This proves to me that I am sane because I don't wish ill on others or throw impressions onto faces and names. It felt good because it reminded me that I'm not alone, and not even Camus could help pull the emotions from me. The oil has been placed, not even The Stranger's powerwasher will pull it off.

Tonight I look forward to sleep. Maybe my evening will end as nicely as it started. Maybe in the morning I'll get the call from the person in the tag labeled "Human Resources" and they'll say "Hello Andrew, I am calling about the job..."

Maybe in the morning my own engines will be a little less rust covered. Lets hope I don't slip on the lube.

The Generic "This is Me" Post
For the first post of my brand spankin' new blog (to hopefully eliminate any others I may or may not have at this moment), I'd like to get any readers I will have a chance to know me a little better. My name is Andrew, and I'm an English Major in CUNY College of Staten Island. I've lived here my whole life, and sadly, I will probably continue to do so until I die. I've got some hobbies, a history, some friends, and probably a few enemies as well.

In the past I've had a few nicknames, ranging from the clever to the pathetic, including but not limited to: Drew, Opps, Odin, Opium, Ogre, Beast, Claudio, Rhox, Hands, Flamespitter, Big Dude, Crazy Long Haired Bastard, Hagrid, Sirius, and Guy. Chances are some of you know me by one or more of these names - kudos to you, you knew about it before the rest of the world. You get a cookie.

You should also consider yourselves warned - I'm sarcastic, profaine, I can't spell, and I tend to agrivate people with some of my views. If you don't agree with me I won't really care, you've got the right to your own thoughts and opinions. Most of what I write is just that - thoughts and opinions. Don't assume that if I sound educated and all knowing that I am, I just speak my mind. I'm like the Bible - take me word for word and you're probably headed towards a dead end.

Also (while it's fresh in my mind) - you might see posts which cannot be commented on. Usuially these will be about Religion or Politics, since they contain my most obscure views. It isn't that I don't want to hear what you have to say, I love hearing what other people have to say. If you see something that you can't post back to, chances are, I don't want anyone to try to fight with me about it, or it will probably offend some people when I havn't got any intention to offend or make fun of them. I don't want to hurt anyone when I write, I just want to write. If something I say stings, I'm sorry ahead of time.

Enjoy my blog kiddies, hope it serves you as well as it will me.

Cheers.