Dunce
“In our age there is no such thing as ‘keeping out of politics’. All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred, and schizophrenia.”
-Politics and the English Language, George Orwell
Political science is not my thing. Now that I’m taking my majors, I’m suddenly walloped with the realization of just how much it’s not my thing. I dislike newspapers, and I dislike political science textbooks. I dislike professors with a dot of white saliva on the corners of their lips. I dislike bowling too, now that I’m at it.
I used to not care so much about what course I’d be graduating from. I think the degree doesn’t count as much as how you go about life---not as much as your diskarte. My mum graduated with a BA MassCom degree, and she’s worked in a bank ever since.
Used to not care so much…and now I do. While I fancy I am pragmatic and can sit through the next two more years of political science, my ass is itching. This itch usually starts when I imagine other better things I should be doing: like, ingesting philosophy, doing sketches for a fashion design class, or cooking up new advertising gimmicks for homework. It makes me feel sad, you know?
Mishee told me I’m just suffering from a bad case of Second Semitis, where all the bubbly energy recharged from summer evaporates during the first semester, leaving the victim all dreary and depressed during the whole of next semester. That’s a reasonable diagnosis, methinks. Or I’m just really getting lazy lately.
Whatever. The words of George Orwell will sustain me in the darkest days of my political science student life. If there is no such thing as keeping out of politics, then what the hell, I might as well study it. A jubunglous mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia is bound to be interesting, once I try to bother being interested.
-Politics and the English Language, George Orwell
Political science is not my thing. Now that I’m taking my majors, I’m suddenly walloped with the realization of just how much it’s not my thing. I dislike newspapers, and I dislike political science textbooks. I dislike professors with a dot of white saliva on the corners of their lips. I dislike bowling too, now that I’m at it.
I used to not care so much about what course I’d be graduating from. I think the degree doesn’t count as much as how you go about life---not as much as your diskarte. My mum graduated with a BA MassCom degree, and she’s worked in a bank ever since.
Used to not care so much…and now I do. While I fancy I am pragmatic and can sit through the next two more years of political science, my ass is itching. This itch usually starts when I imagine other better things I should be doing: like, ingesting philosophy, doing sketches for a fashion design class, or cooking up new advertising gimmicks for homework. It makes me feel sad, you know?
Mishee told me I’m just suffering from a bad case of Second Semitis, where all the bubbly energy recharged from summer evaporates during the first semester, leaving the victim all dreary and depressed during the whole of next semester. That’s a reasonable diagnosis, methinks. Or I’m just really getting lazy lately.
Whatever. The words of George Orwell will sustain me in the darkest days of my political science student life. If there is no such thing as keeping out of politics, then what the hell, I might as well study it. A jubunglous mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia is bound to be interesting, once I try to bother being interested.
posted by Ferretti shoes at
4:15 PM
4 Comments:
I loved watching the news once. I believe it was during the Garci tapes fiasco. My TV life revolved around ANC. I guess you have to treat it like a sopa opera. That way, it's easier to pretend you give a crap about politics. And if you pretend enough, you might actually like it fo' real, yo.
i guess. i'll try that. onc i get through reading my txtbooks which i haven't even gotten around buying. ;p
You know when I got my ESF today and saw how many PS subjects we have to take next sem I think I blacked out for a little bit--I screamed something about how being a hobo isn't so bad after all and the next thing I know I'm sitting on a bench and Toffee, et al are laughing at me.
Remind me to get the same schedule as you so I won't have to flunk miserably, okay?
ah, the joys of peer pressure!
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