I was ruffling through a selection of old files and folders from my first year at college and came across a short piece of writing which made me chuckle. The cynicism runs so deep in me, that it is quite difficult to discern whether I actually possess an inherent hateful disposition, or if it was learned from a young age. There is no date on the page, but it is definitely from the college year of 2008/2009, when I entered college.
Sat here in the lecture hall, listening to this substitute lecturer ramble on about the form and content of a sub-standard poem, a poem that an enthusiastic 16 year old would easily understand, I am driven to writing this little blurb in order to occupy my mind. My mind had the seeming clairvoyance to anticipate what was to be discussed and due to the fact that I know most of the literary devices at the disposal of poets and such, the futility of my being here is extremely evident. However, I suppose that by creating this nonsensical piece of writing, there is at least one positive outcome of my decision to attend my 1 O’Clock English lecture.
I hate to tempt fate (I’ll do it anyway) but surely these courses in Arts at NUI are ridiculously easy; certainly not what I expected from a third level course. I understand that these once respectable buildings which, at one time, housed the honourable pursuit of knowledge, have since become mere machines, churning out drones with the ‘aptitude’ of carrying out what are actually menial tasks. In actuality, these drones believe themselves to be adequately qualified and to my amusement (though sometimes disgust) they act – emphasis on act – as if they are actually intelligent. They are led to this assumption by the ‘educational’ institutions around the world who teach them the basics shrouded in a veil of complication.