If I cannot fly, let me sing

I don't have anything to say I just wanted that big rant to move away. I do rant a lot of crap when I'm tired.

What can I say that isn't ridiculous or boring. Not much really. I spent all my time yesterday that wasn't at Strathclyde reading. I figured I should maybe spend my 2 hours off doing some work. I know, I know. I'm a first year student and I did work. I keep forgetting I'm a first year again. I feel so old when I remember. My classes are full of people either straight out of school or much older people that complain it's so different from college. The annoying thing is when I tell people I restarted they assume I failed last year and I'm repeating the same subjects. They don't seem to get that I just made poor decisions. All because I let a boy sway my final choice. And he was only able to sway my choice because he got me to do his application. There's no way he would have got in to Glasgow on his own merits. But, thankfully, I didn't let that fact discourage me from choosing the University itself.

Anyway, I had several pages of sources to study and one of them was online. It's Rousseau's Emile in case anybody was interested. Reading him made me miss Philosophy. Those Tuesdays in that cosy classroom, talking football, Narnia and what love truly meant. I was the guinea pig for the next year since our school had determined that one Religious and Moral class was enough. So I had a class that the school didn't recognise and my teacher and I sipped tea and thought deeply. I read Plato and Hume and Descartes. I told him I wasn't in love with my boyfriend and my teacher told me he had met his wife in Uni and during his year out in London he'd slept with other women. He also went through every one in the actual Religious class and slagged them off. He told me about the philosopher (who's name sadly I've forgotten) who believed that morals were simply imposed by society, which in itself is nothing new but he chose to live his life ignoring all of these morals. So much so that even Paris was disgusted with him. And then there were the Jesus walking on water theories. The boyfriend accused me of having an affair with my Philosophy teacher. He was only half joking. Started complaining after I was late coming down to lunch because I stopped to talk. Crazy boy, I was far too boring back then to start an affair with anybody let alone an older married teacher.

Anyway, Emile. I must have written down a page and a half of quotes from that source, and I never finished it. It was full of these incredibly interesting insights about women. Explaining why women have to be the weaker sex, not because they are inferior but because if we were the bold sex we would have men completely under our thumb. Fascinating stuff. Not quite as fascinating as the stuff I keep finding scrawled on the walls of the toilets. I swear sometimes I just go for a read. There's a lot of debates and general female bonding going on in those stalls. If it wasn't so inappropriate I'd copy it all down and write a book.