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| quote: | Originally posted by Internet TufGai
I don't like working, and I hate school. I'm only there because I need to eat. I wanted to be a professional critic but there is no such thing. |
Sounds a lot like me.
| quote: | | The closest thing to that? Probobly philosophy. So I chose it as a major. |
Ha! Same here.
| quote: | | I pretty much think that the liberal arts are pure shit and require no brain power compared to math and science. It's all perspiration and no brain power to me because liberal arts courses are subjective. |
Yeah, basically. You can be rigorous about the liberal arts if you want. But colleges generally won't require it of you.
In cynical moments, I think that most people go in for them (liberal arts) because they want to give off an aura of "intellectualism" without having to do the hard work of math or the sciences. Or maybe they read a few of the "classics" in high school and got inspired by them (if any of you are in high school now: that mostly doesn't last and the silly "analysis" that goes on in college classes tends to deaden any love you might have had for literature). Or they're just plain slackers who are in college to party and don't want the requirements of classes to get in their way.
So you have four classes of liberal arts majors:
1. Wanna-be intellectual-critic-types (that's me and you).
2. People who have a naive ideas about college and the "life of the mind."
3. Slackers who take liberal arts classes because everybody knows they're easy.
4. And there are a few who just want to teach.
Luckily, I have no student loans because my parents saved a ton of money for college. I've squandered a fair portion of it by dicking around for three semesters, failing most of my classes during that time. Now I'm back again, half-assing it but probably going to pass my classes this time around. After this semester, I should have two more semesters to go if I keep up my current level of "effort."
Like the rest of you, I don't really know what "happened" to me. And maybe saying that something "happened" to me at all would just be a way of excusing my own laziness. Maybe that's it, laziness. I'm just a plain old lazy guy who has the leisure to sit around and bloviate about it because his parents worked harder than he did.
I'm self-critical, cynical about my cynicism, and I know that my type is a dime a dozen. The comfortably middle class 20-something with a big vocabulary gained from years of intellectual dilettantism. Not exactly one in a million, eh?
And I always have the luxury of the aloof "third-person" perspective, laughing at the "idiot" (me) banging out his life story on the keyboard. Watching himself fail from the safety of his own disembodied mind, maybe too afraid to admit to himself that he actually does care about the crapfest he has made of his life.
I guess I could write a book about having every advantage and then flubbing it all anyway, but I bet that there are plenty of those on the market already.
Hopefully all that will resonate with somebody. 
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