Classes started today. Of course, after all my hype, they were in the end just classes. Nothing overwhelmingly interesting. Opening day kind of stuff. I am a little afraid the first professor things I am unfocused or not entirely devoted to my communication degree (I will relay this story if next class reveals more proof). But, he is pretty cool nonetheless and I think I may just enjoy taking a writing class with him. He is an awful lot like Professor Bockman, but less animated and pretty strict on the "no food or drink in the lab" rule.
My classmates so far are very cool. I got a chance to know Erin today and am doing a mini-biography on Aman for my first assignment. Speaking of assignments, reading liberal arts literature is kind of like reading The Scarlet Letter; awful. (What punctuation mark is supposed to go before awful? I am sure that is wrong.) I had to read two articles on "research" and "experiments." I have never seen anything so subjective in my enitre life. The enitre goal of making a theory in communications is apparently to arrive at enough data so you can create another theory. Facts, as I read today, are once in a GENERATION type things that don't really exist in this highly subjective universe.
I wonder a little what I have gotten myself into. It took six pages to convert my brain to comprehending the convoluted message. Once past pretending that this stuff was actually an experiment and not just sampling or non-empirical data collection, the substance wasn't bad. I can say one thing for certain: this will be new and (hopefully) exciting material and if nothing else I am going to learn to learn in a new way.
After a nice fajita supper (thanks roomie!) I headed back to school, articles in hand, freshly printed discussion questions pasted in french-style to my notebook for Communication Theory. I must say that the first portion of the class was like being in a room with a masculine veela. I will say nothing else on that subject except you know it is serious if I am mentioning it. I quickly recovered and spent the rest of the class taking notes and trying not to speak. I usually speak out alot in class, but my lack of comprehension for how they throw around words I've been using for years in a completely different sense was blowing my mind. After two moderately embarrassing mishaps (that felt much more like Mrs. Gross' 2nd grade sex ed than I'd like to admit) I just shut up. Theory is not the same. It is sort of the same but not. Variables, dependent and independent, have taken on new dimensions in the abstract and conceptual worlds (I think this is because of the subjectivity thing?). The only word that remained the same was hypothesis. Thank goodness for familiarity.
I hope the professor was nervous, because he was pacing around alot and basically breaking every Toastmaster rule ever invented. I know I am an oratorical snob, but I figured a communication specialist would know better. Hence, I am blaming it on nerves and hoping he recovers. I know now from my Chanzy experience that a room full of students really can be intimidating.
I got an email about my assistantship, I successfully took public transportation to and from school, did not spill my tomato sandwich on myself while eating at the bus stop, washed my sheets, and read a few more sections of the newspaper ... this was a good day. My new beginning really. With all of the chapters I am going to read this semester, it is nice to know that at least metaphorically I am writing my own. Time for bed, this brain's worn out.
Love always, ~Heather
My classmates so far are very cool. I got a chance to know Erin today and am doing a mini-biography on Aman for my first assignment. Speaking of assignments, reading liberal arts literature is kind of like reading The Scarlet Letter; awful. (What punctuation mark is supposed to go before awful? I am sure that is wrong.) I had to read two articles on "research" and "experiments." I have never seen anything so subjective in my enitre life. The enitre goal of making a theory in communications is apparently to arrive at enough data so you can create another theory. Facts, as I read today, are once in a GENERATION type things that don't really exist in this highly subjective universe.
I wonder a little what I have gotten myself into. It took six pages to convert my brain to comprehending the convoluted message. Once past pretending that this stuff was actually an experiment and not just sampling or non-empirical data collection, the substance wasn't bad. I can say one thing for certain: this will be new and (hopefully) exciting material and if nothing else I am going to learn to learn in a new way.
After a nice fajita supper (thanks roomie!) I headed back to school, articles in hand, freshly printed discussion questions pasted in french-style to my notebook for Communication Theory. I must say that the first portion of the class was like being in a room with a masculine veela. I will say nothing else on that subject except you know it is serious if I am mentioning it. I quickly recovered and spent the rest of the class taking notes and trying not to speak. I usually speak out alot in class, but my lack of comprehension for how they throw around words I've been using for years in a completely different sense was blowing my mind. After two moderately embarrassing mishaps (that felt much more like Mrs. Gross' 2nd grade sex ed than I'd like to admit) I just shut up. Theory is not the same. It is sort of the same but not. Variables, dependent and independent, have taken on new dimensions in the abstract and conceptual worlds (I think this is because of the subjectivity thing?). The only word that remained the same was hypothesis. Thank goodness for familiarity.
I hope the professor was nervous, because he was pacing around alot and basically breaking every Toastmaster rule ever invented. I know I am an oratorical snob, but I figured a communication specialist would know better. Hence, I am blaming it on nerves and hoping he recovers. I know now from my Chanzy experience that a room full of students really can be intimidating.
I got an email about my assistantship, I successfully took public transportation to and from school, did not spill my tomato sandwich on myself while eating at the bus stop, washed my sheets, and read a few more sections of the newspaper ... this was a good day. My new beginning really. With all of the chapters I am going to read this semester, it is nice to know that at least metaphorically I am writing my own. Time for bed, this brain's worn out.
Love always, ~Heather
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Gros bisous et merci pour ta lettres.
@ bientôt
Hugues