An Open Letter to My Philosophy Professor

"You can go under 10 or over 15 pages, but be reasonable. It is difficult to do justice to the authors' arguments in less than 10 pages (that would be about 3 pages per chapter, a ratio of about 10/1) but too much over 15 pages would make the exposition more than a focus on essentials."

Really Dr. Piscitelli? Has it truly ever been a concern of yours that a student in your Intro to Philosophy class at a community college might exceed fifteen pages on this assignment? You also express that we must be succinct. Perhaps my inclination toward brevity in essays is simply superior and I know no better, but I find it terribly challenging to be both succinct and breach the ten-page minimum you request. I absolutely respect the amount and quality of education you have received, but has it occurred to you that there are a few instances in which you need to dumb down the material to the bare bones basics to reach an audience that has only extremely rudimentary, or nonexistent, prior knowledge of the subject matter? I appreciate being lectured to as if I walk the halls of one of the institutions you attended, but it is discouraging to be expected to perform at at that level or risk failure. I have spoken with several of my classmates and I highly doubt more than half the class is capable of writing a paper that is up to snuff. Your lectures were not designed to help the student become more competent at understanding the language used in philosophy prose and gain a greater understanding of philosophical and epistemological concepts in independent study. They were themselves concept-based and while exposure to these concepts as they were meant to be presented (not in layman's terms) has given me a marginally better grasp on classical philosophy, I still find writing a lengthy expository essay on a text we have not even briefly discussed in class to be a struggle.

To all the people who have ever looked at the password field and thought, hm, good question.

I don't even know why I have this. I don't think it has ever been viewed by eyes that are not mine and I don't make much of a case against that.

I have not been up to much. I have become a full-fledged slacker, if you discount the fact I have a fairly secure job. I like to think of myself as special kind of slacker, though. I skipped class last Friday and went to the library to study for a little over two hours. A week prior to that I had a philosophy paper returned to me with the word "pathetic" written on it and sank into a mild depression that I have not yet fully recovered from.

While at the library, I started my speech (topic: why college isn't for everyone - I had to choose from a list of options like "bowling injuries" and "fifty ways to leave your lover"), and it eventually turned into an autobiographical tale that was simultaneously self-deprecating and self-justifying. Between that time and the due date (today) I became distracted with work, other school assignments, and general slacker bullshit. So, I have elected to skip class and refine this piece of shit and present it next week, when the other half of the students are supposed to present anyway. I have two white lies to choose from: I was too sick to read a speech (I am sick, but really not too sick to do anything except not be sick), or, I was called into work and didn't want to make a bad impression my first week in a new department. I know they need extra people at work, but they never asked me to come in. Anyway, I've already justified skipping to myself. I know people who go to schools that cost 5x what mine does (I go to community college) and they just sleep through their classes, all the time. Second, I'm going to go Panera and work on my speech while I'd usually be in class. I have to get out of the house since my parents think I'll be going to class.

Oh yeah, also, if I don't get my shit together in terms of pulling my weight around the house, I'm probably getting kicked out. My ADD (I really, really hate calling it that but I can never think of an acceptable euphemism) is at an all time low (read: really bad) and I can't function from one day to the next without it obviously affecting me. I need to find a pill-happy psychiatrist who will prescribe me Adderall without all the holistic try this try that first bullshit.

On the bright side, my new department is awesome. I break up loads and put shit on shelves all day, which is exactly the kind of manual labor with visible progress I get gratification from. I get my own fucking box-cutter and work gloves. Like, I take them home with me every day, I don't have to turn them in at the end of every shift. It's like they are part of my uniform. I get to take my breaks and lunches whenever I want.

Well this is getting really long and while I shouldn't let this bother me as no one is reading, I personally don't want to go back and proofread any more than this.

13

You know how there's French toast? Which is delicious?
I have improved upon it. I cannot tell you what I have done, though. I still haven't ruled out marketing my masterpiece.
That is all. I wish you a good evening.

I can't remember if I wrote about my experience at the chiropractor in my post yesterday, and I am far too lazy to check. I have a disability certificate, as it were.

So we go in and sit down. There is this lady who is clearly in training to be a cougar at the desk bitching about bloating and driving on the right side of the street ever since she got back to the States from somewhere. I'm clearly in pain, holding my beck, and she keeps on bitching.

Wow suddenly I really don't feel like writing anymore. I'm going to finish this later.

11

I come to you today from my MacBook Pro, which I procured about two weeks ago. Perhaps to the day. This is less important than my dead neck.

Yesterday around 9:30 AM, as I sat on the toilet, I turned my head to the left, not really with any spectacular speed, heard a grinding/crunching sound, and there you go. My range of motion is severely limited. I did not go to work. I got about three hours of sleep last night. Today I am either going to see a massage therapist or a chiropractor. Oh, it's also extremely painful. I think "dead" implies "numb," which is so not the case.

Now I am sitting here watching Drive Thru: (Episode says "Leaving Panama;" I know I am not watching Caribbean, and I don't know where else Panama could be) at an angle and the coffee brewing smells strongly of pee. I am sick and tired of drinking my coffee with soymilk, but it lasts so much longer than dairy milk. It's also vastly more disgusting.

I'm really not looking forward to transferring all of my iTunes files over to this new machine. It was much easier last time because I was able to use SharePod. Totally free, no file limit. All of its Mac-compatible counterparts cost money in one way or another. It's crap. The method in which you enable disk use in the iPod sounds really confusing and seems to open up the possibility of corrupting the files or the device and I'd really like to go get my neck fixed now.

Fro yo, fro yo.

Because I live in Northern Virginia, I am deprived of PinkBerry and therefore can't really compare any of its successors to it. Because I live in Northern Virginia, I was in Georgetown one day and I ambled into an IceBerry. This establishment sells nonfat frozen yogurt mixed with crack. I'm getting the shakes and I'm not diggin' on driving to any of the there somewhat local locations. I go when I'm with my friend who lives in Springfield. She is my enabler. I may suck it up and go to TCBY, because it's the only other frozen yogurt shop within fifteen miles of my house. It's not the same, though. Not whatsoever.

Things I Dispute

#1 I was reading this blog about grammer and stumbled upon my #1 word confusion pet peeve: "addictive" versus "addicting." I am pro-"addictive" and was super-pissed to find that this person was able to justify the use of "addicting" in the same context. I was, however, somewhat pleased when the author of the blog suggested sticking in "addictive" when in doubt.

#1 On a newly-aired Outback Steakhouse commercial, they claim that if you have a meal at their eating establishment, you will be "happier than a koala up a gum tree." Seeing as how the diet of the koala consists solely of eucalyptus leaves, I don't think it's too hard to be happier than a koala up a gum tree.

#3 Vera Bradley. Oh my freaking quail. Pre-Vera Bradley, you saw quilted bags with this hideous paisley print all over the place and on the arm of every female senior citizen worth her eighty years on this planet, but because they were cheaply or reasonably priced, that's where they stayed. Very Bradley came along and said, "Hm. Fucking shot in the dark, but if I jack the price up 250% on these things, I might be able to make a mint." You can not tell the difference between a Vera Bradley bag and a no name paisley bag, yet people are willing to spend $70+ on one of these things. That is a clear indicator of the fact that people think if they spent too much money on something ugly then it qualifies it as stylish. It's not even an original print or shape!

I'll have more later.

Stream of Consciousness

Normally I would discuss a topic here, but I'm lacking topic ideas at the moment, so here is a stream of consciousness post, just for you.

It has snowed about five inches outside. It is March and this is usually when we get our big snows here. I think that's stupid. It makes me want to move to Western Colorado, where snow is to be expected, or the beach, where you just don't get your hopes up in the first place.

My mom woke me up this morning. At 6:30. She had to have known school was cancelled. She told me something, but I was to angry and tired to comprehend it, so I told her there was no school and that I was going back to sleep. My dad then proceeded to speak in his deep voice, which he doesn't know becomes even more sonorous when he is trying to speek quietly. He's also heavy-footed and it sounded like an army was doing drills on the roof. Even though he was not on the roof. So I got up at 6:30 this morning.

I am not allowed to drive the Expedition farther than work and I am therefore stuck at home. My car can't handle this tragic, blizzad-like depth of snow. I bet Wegmans was insane yesterday. People in Northern Virginia can't handle more than two inches. They come to the grocery store and stock up on eggs, milk, bread, and toilet paper. I shit thee not. The day a single person in Northern Virginia finds themselves snowbound is the day I will momentarily consider not leaving forever once my finances are in order.

I have to fill out the rebate form for my new cell phone. I really don't want to. Yesterday was the regular application deadline for one of the colleges I was considering. I am now not considering it. I am only going to apply to ODU and VCU. Christopher Newport is the college whose deadline I missed. Actually, I applied but never sent in my transcript or SAT score. They require you to take core classes all four years regardless of your major, and it is a dry campus, so I doubt I would have enjoyed myself very much anyway. I am most likely going to NoVA next year to get required courses out of the way for cheap and un-destroy my GPA. Then I'll transfer to the four-year of my choosing. I hope schools will still want to see my SAT score if I apply as a transfer student. It is 2070 and my greatest academic achievement.

I will leave you with the advice that you make snow cream today, should you have access to snow. Put some snow in a bowl. A lot of snow because it will shrink later. Mix milk, sugar, and vanilla extract in a cup. Pour it over the snow and stir until evenly distributed. It is really, really good.

Incomplete

It seems that it has been a little while since I've bothered with this. I had one or two others that I preferred more as far as content goes, but I can't remember the usenames, passwords, or blog sites.

I'm not sure if you're aware what a Junior Mints Deluxe is, but it is this:

It's really not what you want, as it goes against everything that makes Junior Mints good. It is large and has a thick chocolate coating filled with a goo that I would equate to concentrated mentholmint schnapps. My mother broke one open the other day and decided she didn't want the insides, so she scooped them out with a silver grapefruit spoon. Upon wiping it off, she found that the tarnish had been removed. This leads me to believe that Junior Mints Deluxe is the first of new gastronomical phenomenon that I just now have officially coined "utilitarian novelty candies." They taste off, but to make up for it they perform household chores.