Things are hard here.
My chemistry and calc classes are ridiculously difficult. Chemistry's challenge is only circumstantial, because Supik, God bless him, has equipped me with nil understanding of stoichiometry. My calculus class, however, is taught by a Eastern European kid who cannot be older than I am, and we've basically jumped into proofs without so much as a warning to me to put my swimming goggles on. He asks us for the definition of a limit, and I'm like, "All I know is that there's an ant names Pierre and he's trying to reach that point, brother." I'm thinking of getting a tutor fill in the gaps between Ms. Price's Pierre the Ant and the delta, epsilon proof of a limit.
My Media Aesthetics class, formerly my least favorite class, has become astounding to me. We're studying Velazquez's Las Meninas and using it as a starting point to discuss the role of the artists and the subject in the work of art, and what an "aura" means in relation to the modern ability of art to be reproduced, and the implications of Marxism in choice of medium. I don't think I've ever been really stumped by an idea in any of my high school English classes. There have been papers that I didn't want to write because the questions required lots of work, but to confront an idea or thesis that takes more than a few breaths to understand is completely new to me. Any hunches or primitive theories I previously had about aesthetics or art theory have been completely blown asunder by these past two weeks. There's something that's both terrifying and exciting about that.
There's kind of a common intellectual theme that I've discovered in most of my lessons this semester, and it all has to do with the challenge of holding two contradictory ideas in your head at the same time, not reconciling them but acknowledgeing their polarity and recognizing its significance in the issue at hand.
I'm even having trouble with my small theater role. I don't understand my character at all, I can't really perceive my purpose, and I think I'm just trying to reconcile the fact that it's a part in which I don't have the opportunity to do my stupid Drew schtick anymore.
Anyway, the trees here have all gotten their act together and are beginning to change. I've realized that there's not a really great autumn smell here, just the omnipresent metallic odor of the city. But this weekend-- oh, man-- this weekend, my house is going on a trip to Indiana to go apple-picking. You don't know how much this excites me. The place where we're going has a cornfield maze. And if they have a hayride-- oh man, i'm going to be damp to my panties.
My chemistry and calc classes are ridiculously difficult. Chemistry's challenge is only circumstantial, because Supik, God bless him, has equipped me with nil understanding of stoichiometry. My calculus class, however, is taught by a Eastern European kid who cannot be older than I am, and we've basically jumped into proofs without so much as a warning to me to put my swimming goggles on. He asks us for the definition of a limit, and I'm like, "All I know is that there's an ant names Pierre and he's trying to reach that point, brother." I'm thinking of getting a tutor fill in the gaps between Ms. Price's Pierre the Ant and the delta, epsilon proof of a limit.
My Media Aesthetics class, formerly my least favorite class, has become astounding to me. We're studying Velazquez's Las Meninas and using it as a starting point to discuss the role of the artists and the subject in the work of art, and what an "aura" means in relation to the modern ability of art to be reproduced, and the implications of Marxism in choice of medium. I don't think I've ever been really stumped by an idea in any of my high school English classes. There have been papers that I didn't want to write because the questions required lots of work, but to confront an idea or thesis that takes more than a few breaths to understand is completely new to me. Any hunches or primitive theories I previously had about aesthetics or art theory have been completely blown asunder by these past two weeks. There's something that's both terrifying and exciting about that.
There's kind of a common intellectual theme that I've discovered in most of my lessons this semester, and it all has to do with the challenge of holding two contradictory ideas in your head at the same time, not reconciling them but acknowledgeing their polarity and recognizing its significance in the issue at hand.
I'm even having trouble with my small theater role. I don't understand my character at all, I can't really perceive my purpose, and I think I'm just trying to reconcile the fact that it's a part in which I don't have the opportunity to do my stupid Drew schtick anymore.
Anyway, the trees here have all gotten their act together and are beginning to change. I've realized that there's not a really great autumn smell here, just the omnipresent metallic odor of the city. But this weekend-- oh, man-- this weekend, my house is going on a trip to Indiana to go apple-picking. You don't know how much this excites me. The place where we're going has a cornfield maze. And if they have a hayride-- oh man, i'm going to be damp to my panties.
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