This Class is Not What I Expected.

I had to take a Visual Arts at some point in this, my freshman year.

I can't draw for shit, and I've already done a lot of Art History (Thanks, Ms. Russell!), so I didn't really want to retread there.  So I browsed through the courses that The University of the State and The State University would accept as substitutions for an actual Visual Arts course.  Introduction to Radio and Television was on there.

What I expected: to listen to some radio and watch some TV, then talk about it.

What actually occurs: lectures on the history of TV, radio, the internet and video games.  No actual observing involved.

Here's where I'm kind of torn: it's a pretty good class.  It's just not what I expected.  And, as I believe I've mentioned, I don't expect the unexpected very well.  It's not on the level of, say, a zombie shambling towards me.  Unless the zombie was made of boredom.  Because once you get past the history of radio and TV, it's kinda boring.

There's also some sort of unwritten dress code in this class.  And I think I violate it just by existing.  If you're a girl, you have to be turned out in your very best clothes - up to and including like a prom dress thing that was worn with proper foundation garments a couple of weeks ago.  (It sparkled.  I am not making this up.  It had a little shoulder shrug thing and everything.  Very incongruous with her giant backpack.)  Or you have to dress like a lesbian in your early twenties.  (I suspect that girl actually is a lesbian in her early twenties, so she's forgiven.)

If you're a guy, the options are a bit wider.  You have to think that you're wearing things ironically, but really you're not, because you're fucking wearing them.  This includes newsboy caps, emo haircuts, skinny jeans, skinny jeans with tears in them, skinny jeans paired with workboots, skinny jeans more conventionally paired with Vans, and my very favorite: the dude who came in last week wearing a longsleeved plaid workshirt thing upon which every single possible button was buttoned, khaki pants that were rolled up to the knee, making some sort of bizarre makeshift man-pris and white socks pulled all the way up to his knee.  So there was absolutely no skin showing, but there was a lot of sock showing.  It was apparently warm enough for man-pris, but not warm enough for shortsleeves.  I tried not to look at him for too long because I could feel the mechanisms in my brain start going too fast, and I was pretty sure we were going to suffer a huge mechanical breakdown from which there is no recovery except some quiet time in a padded room while I scream "WHY??? WHY, GOD, WHY??!!!" and roll around on the floor.

Also, if you're a guy, you have to have a full-on beard, carry one of those messenger bags with a retro thing on it that you couldn't possibly be old enough to remember, and use a Mac.  Srsly.  I figured out recently that these are the people for whom this class is not a Visual Arts elective credit.  These are the people who plan to make radio, television and/or film their actual jobs, ensuring that I will spend many, many frustrated years flipping through the channel guide saying "There's nothing good on!" because they have conquered the industry with their completely straight-faced hipsterness.

Damn them in advance.

In the meantime, I take some small satisfaction in the fact that there is absolutely nothing in this class (yet) for them to pour their hipsterness on.  (I say that like they have a bottle in their pocket that resembles a Mrs. Butterworth's bottle, except it's a dude with nerdy glasses, a full beard and skinny jeans and they can just use that bottle to pour the syrup of their hipsterness on everybody.  Well, I do not want your hipstery syrup.  It's sticky and gross, so keep it to yourself, douchebag.)  But I figure the douchebag forum will open up quite abruptly when we start talking about FCC policies and shit.  If it does, I'll be sure to tell you about it.