Casual Fridays: Classless

You said you wanted to start seriously and see where it went. And we agreed. It seemed like the right thing to do. It made sense. We made sense, you know? We’d planned out our future together. And now? We don’t know how or when to find you. Why did you do it? Class registration, why would you announce yourself as something serious if you only ever wanted to mess around? You’re a joke, class registration. How are we supposed to be together if you can’t even get yourself together?

To be clear—registering for classes requires such complicated pieces of information as “professor,” “time of day,” and “day of week,” yes? Because we were under the impression that this was one of the reasons we were together. Relationships are built on mutual give and take. Thus far, however, we have given you our time and attention, and you have neglected to give us even this basic information in return. How, pray tell, are we supposed to pull a Tim Gunn and make it work if you cannot even let us know on which days our classes will meet? At least you’ve let us know which classes are actually available to us.

Oh, wait. You didn’t do that either. You told us one thing on the directory, and another on the bulletin. You’re a compulsive liar, and we are now scarred for life with trust issues. We hope you’re happy. Granted, that only applies to what you actually tell us. Some information—say, how to apply to seminars in the English department or what history seminars we’ve been accepted to—you didn’t tell us at all. Our time matters, too, and you refused to let us balance it. Everyone’s allowed to have secrets, but this spoke to the very foundation of why we were together. We needed to know, and we needed you to open up. Alas.

We’ve gotten over the anger, class registration. Because at this point, you’re just pathetic. Your directory’s logo looks like it comes from the ’70s. You can’t seem to get the numbers for how full classes are. You offer textbook information, but you don’t actually have anything. Empty promises. Do you even know where you are? Or what you are, for that matter? Get over your station in life and get yourself together. We want this to work. Really, we do. But you are, quite simply, a confused embarrassment. Your links are broken, but our hearts won’t be. So for now, goodbye and good luck.