Trapped in a Tiny Chair

Yesterday was the first day of class. I am pretty excited for this chapter of my eduction. I can now just choose the classes I want; meaning, I am only sitting in classes that I have an exceedingly high level of interested. First up is a class devoted to the Thirty Years War. One of my my favorite chapters of history. That time-frame in Central Europe between 1618 and 1648 when the Holy Roman Emperor (who was not holy, not Roman, nor an Emperor) Ferdinand II of Bohemia was crowned Holy Douchebag I by kicking some Protestants in the balls. This led Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden to be credited with starting that hair cut that every gay male has today. So, another reason we owe a debt to Swedish trendsetters. 

The Professor of this class has stated he will stay away of the popular stories of 1600s and 1700s. Because If I have to hear one more lecture of the Restoration of the English Monarchy, I may puke. I kid, I kid. A bit. This class should be all French/Dutchiness. 

The other class is Modern Philosophy. Which I thought was gonna be all Ayn Rand and debating Quasi-Realism to prove that I don't exist. But no Atlas Shrugging for me. Nope. Starting out we will be finding out that we think, therefore we...be. Sorry, René Descartes. It's fine, but your haircut bothers me. Seriously who wears bangs?? Outside of Zooey Deschanel. 

Both of these classes are in the older buildings on campus which means the class rooms are small and they sport those desks attached to chairs. This makes me feel like a circus bear stuck on a bicycle. I cram my large frame into the tiny chair and attempt to blend in with the muggle-sized co-students. This is a small price to pay however, to learn of Swedish war victories.