I haven't really posted since I left work and started school. I'm probably not going to do the whole transition justice with this quickly typed summary, but I've got a Philosophy lecture in 15 minutes - so a summary it shall be.
Finishing work was strange; it was a little more emotional than I thought it'd be. However starting school two days later didn't give me much time for contemplation, which was probably a good thing. I still find myself getting up of a morning and reaching for a shirt with accompanying tie. It would seem that 6.5 years of habit is going to be hard to break.
The bureaucracy at uni has driven me nuts. There hasn't been a single subject which has been free of some sort of stuff-up. Wrong booklets have been handed out; incorrect tutorial times have been posted... I've managed to ignore all these shortcomings, and now I'm starting to get into the nitty gritty of the subjects.
The other interesting thing of note about uni is the uneven proportion of boys and girls. I'd say that there are probably about 5 girls for every guy, which really isn't that terrible.
I'm going to have to talk more about the burgeoning feeling of isolation that arises when walking into a tutorial filled with people born in 1987 later - Descartes calls!
9 comments:
No one notices the age thing until you point it out. At least that's been my experience. I know for me, I feel that isolated feeling because I'm aware of my age, and if I'm aware of it *everyone* must be. But that's not the case.
Besides, you can totally work this to your advantage with the girls :P
You're right - as with most things in life the only problem lies within the confines of my skull. But - ew! - you just made me feel old; am I now at the stage where I can play the old-man card?
No no, not the old man card. That never works.
The slightly older, intelligent guy. That one.
You know what makes me feel old? The fact that, in my boring insurance job, I am now creating motor policies for people born in 1989.
1989.
One year away from 1990.
God damn.
I noticed the same thing when I went to a uni open day last year, too. They just look so young.
(And girls really do love that intelligent, slightly older guy thing. Trust me.)
I imagine, however, GBE, that you can take some small thread of pleasure from the fact that you'll be able to slug those youngsters exorbitant amounts for their insurance, as a result of their youth. At least you can take comfort in that.
Well, I'll have to go for the slightly older thing, but on the intelligence front I think I'll be found to be lacking.
Oooohhhh. Pick me! Pick me!
Get it, like when you're at school and you're the older (annoying) student who knows EVERYTHING (even if they don't) and always answers the questions...and also my impression of DQ as he is sooo the older student and seems like the older man type who seems to think that he knows everything because he's sooooo old.
Um, aren't you my age? Stop with the "I'm so old and alone thing." That will never work with picking up the nubile young chicks.
Oh and by the way, totally working on a dress, what are your measurements? If Livi is throwing the party, all I have to do is get you a man and in the dress, which according to you, you would be willing to pay someone to wear the dress, so the way I see it, you're going to owe me money when this is pulled off.
Come now, Some girl, I think I know everything? My delicate feelings are hurt. Well, not really, but they might have been.
The worry is that, although you might get me to wear a dress, you're probably going to have to pay a lot of people to get them to allow me to wear it. I mean, it would be a matter of international concern. Just like with saving the whales, there would be protesters, petitioners and focus groups - "PLEASE SPARE US THE HORROR OF WITNESSING J WEAR A DRESS!" would be the cry.
Yes don, it's evident that you're as thick as the big print edition of The Complete Works of Charles Dickens. Expect the girls to call you Thicky Thickington and run away.
(Spot my sarcasm and win a prize!)
You're not lacking in intelligence. You're far more attractive in a dress than you give yourself credit for (and you can even work it with the beard). And you're not an old fart, yet. When I start calling you one, then you know you're in trouble. I guarantee you've caught the eye of someone, even if it's a professor.
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