MY grading scale.

Today I found the grade of my thesis conveniently tucked in to my online Degree Audit (thinger for short). I am not going in to detail as of now the ever-loving Hell I went through with my thesis, but suffice to say my sanity would have been a lot better off had I never bothered with this shit. Theatre majors are perhaps the only major at my school who must create a thesis, with the exception of the Honors program, but that isnt a major, so it doesn't count. Anyways, I was not notified in any way that my thesis had been complete. No one bothered to tell me, let alone tell me how I could have improved. The whole process I had been lied to, told I was doing things wrong but not told how to correct my errors, et cetera. Please, be assured that I am indeed a good writer. My paper on Body Modifications and their relationship to risk factors? Sweet. My paper discussing social darwinism as seen through the eyes of French post-rennaisance theatre? Inspired. This? Hell on earth. They gave me a D. Saving the juicy details for later, I spent over 20 hours a week at TheTheatre last spring, working on the scene design that would be all but minorly involved in the paper segment of my thesis. Not only was a designing, but painting, building, supervising, and "technically directing" (was does a Tech director do, you ask? they decide HOW things will be built, where to brace it, how much weight it can/should hold, et cetera). In addition to 13 other credits at the time, I had all this shit to do. Do I get graded on all that hard ass work? No. Do my tears at being overstressed and underpaid make up for any in-text citing I overlooked? No. By the way, my job was paid minimum wage, and only for 8 hours a week. the other 12 hours? NOTHING) . No grading for my wonderful paint job. (hubris not withstanding, I am a very good Scene Painter. I've been doing the shit for 8 years, and was taught how to do it correctly in high school). No grading for the intellectual considerations towards symbolism, or for the accuracy of the design to the historical period. No extra credit for the 3 pairs of jeans I ruined painting. No gold star for the blood and bruises created during the building.

Truly, the paper I wrote was indeed half-bad. Great concept, I had a decent time applying knowledge from A to what I believe to be B. However, I am not so arrogant to boast that this paper was the modern equivalent to Aristotle. But I must ask, WHERE THE FUCK DID ALL MY HARD WORK GO TO? Fuck, if I had known that all the pain, agony, stress and alcohol spent designing and getting that show up would amount to less than a hill of beans, I would have just taken a shit on the American flag, then brought in a curtain with "Fin" printed on it. and then spent all the extra time I had on the goddamned paper, which apparently is the important thing. It could have been a lovely piece, about the internal struggle between France and America and had France the money, resources, or balls to do it, they would have shit all over us and be ruling the place by now. (Don't worry france, J'aime a vous! Vraiment, je detese la frommage. Aussi, je suis la seulement de robot dan se coin!).

Okay, I am ranting when I didn't mean to, and not really telling you much of anything you care about. Or anything at all, really. I can't go in to full detail about how the Theatre at thecollege has ruined my attitudes towards not only theatre, but scholastics, human kind, and teaching. I really liked my thesis advisor guy before this whole shit got started, but once I registered for the thesis, I think it became a game to see how many ways TheDame could get anally raped without realizing it. So later, when the subject isnt quite such an open wound, I will explain further. Here are some final thoughts.

D you say? Well, theCollegeTheatreDepartment, I give you an F.
F stands for

Fuck Your Rules
Fuck Your "Disappointment in me"
Fuck Your thoughts on My Potential (mine! i do what i want with it!)
Fuck Your Attitudes
Fuck Your Golden Child WHO IS A SHITTY ACTRESS AND EVERYONE KNOWS YOU ONLY DOTE ON HER BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T SHE WILL PROBABLY JUST TRY TO KILL HERSELF AGAIN.
and, most importantly, *FUCK YOU.

*with exception to my boss, TheCowboy. he is a decent guy, I just think his hands were as tied as mine were in this case. if he wanted to anally rape me, he'd tell me to my face instead of passive aggressively getting me to ruin my scholarly career. its TheMime's fault.

yes, yes, childish of me to end in such a cliche manner, all the repetend and ending with an overt and immature "fuck you". I know you didn't see it coming and were really shocked and sympathetic to the anger I have about this situation and that's cool. And if you don't, I'll punch you in the face.


On a good note, I really enjoyed my Crafts class. I got to make some really cool shit and some of it is even shiny! I will mourn not having cheap access to all the crafts stuff, that kinda thing is hella expensive. I will post pics of my craft hotness once I get the time. Between packing, end of the year obligations, and doctors appointments (get 'em before the insurance runs out kids!) I'm ass-deep in busy. Another cool note, I met Rake Yohn this past Friday, and he is really truly cool.