Your face is not your own

While I am unsure why, a picture of Dom and I suckin' face has made its way into the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. It's probably some kind of statement about myspace, privacy on the internet, modern women, blah blah SCANDAL! Teaching us a lesson of some kind. Modern artists and their novel ideas.

I'm in a winter coat, so it's not a flesh thing. I'm not embarrassed of such a picture. So what was the criteria? Why was my profile picture one of the chosen ones, out of... how many people are on myspace now? All the down-the-shirt boob shots and emo angles and legitimate non-myspace photos.
It's Interesting.

I guess I'm art to someone then. Now that's a strange concept.

Worries

It's never a pleasant feeling to read all the prerequisites required for the courses you've signed up for, and a few of them, well... you haven't taken yet. Or are taking simultaneously.

I registered for what my advisor told me to register for, right?

And only that?

Right?



Because if it doesn't work, then I'll be down 2 courses this semester...

Murder by numbers

I, in my third year of college, am taking a summer course so that I may graduate earlier than schedualed.

In my first class, the professor played us a video. In said video, an elderly man told me that mixing red and yellow will produce orange.

Am I out of line to think that, maybe, just maybe, this course is a bit below me? Or, possibly anyone over the age of 4?