(no subject)

[gyzym]

I really need to post here more often. I always intend to do the blogging thing, and then I just do not. It's sorely disappointing. I come here with fic, of course, but my time for fic production in increasingly limited as other commitments--with real life ramifications, etc, etc, reality bites--take over my life.

But blogging? Blogging, I think I can do.

So, in apology for my supreme lack of responsible posting, you can has:

What Happens When Technology Fails and The World Goes Mad
A True Story



So, just so we're all clear here: Jack is a dear friend of mine, and Blackboard is a system used by professors at universities across the country (mine included) to post assignments, grades, student readings, etc, etc.

I logged onto Blackboard tonight seeking the grade I received on one of my recent midterms. This is a pretty normal thing for me to do--I'm known to be sliiiightly obsessive about knowing how I did on exams. All seemed normal on my homepage until I looked closer, at which point I was forced to have the following conversation.

KATY: Jack...have you ever known me to...paint? Anything?
JACK: Well, possibly my life, with the colors of madness and shame whenever you talk.
KATY: Aside from that.
JACK: No, not so much. God forbid, considering what you do to stick figures. Why do you ask?
KATY: Because since yesterday, Blackboard has decided that I am A GRADUATE LEVEL PAINTING STUDENT.

Yes, this above statement is accurate--in the 12 hours since last I checked my Blackboard account, a graduate level painting course has been added to my roster. This would be amusing rather than deeply terrifying if these things happened regularly, but having a class in your Blackboard account means you have registered for that class with the university.

Which means you can be graded.

I downloaded the syllabus of the class out of misguided curiosity and spent 15 minutes pouring over phrases like "expanding your professional portfolio," laughing hysterically. And then, to my own eternal embarrassment, I was forced to email the professor.

Dear Mr. Art Professor,

Hello, I am not in your class. Possibly you already know this, having not seen me in the six weeks classes have been in session. However, Blackboard does not know this. And this is odd, because I am not only not in your class, I did not register for your class. I did not even consider registering for your class, because my ability to produce art is about the equivalent of a pre-kindergarten child's. Quite possibly the child would be better. I WAS BAD AT PAINT BY NUMBERS, MAN.

Anyway, please to not be failing me, because my lack of showing up, doing any work or ever contacting you at all is TOTALLY NOT MY FAULT.

Love and kisses,
Katy

I have yet to hear back from him. Sometimes I hate college.

Comments

[secretsolitaire.livejournal.com]

Hee. I have approximately the same amount of artistic talent, so I feel your pain.

And I remember Blackboard, though I'm not sure we were able to look at grades with it. I just recall downloading a lot of long, boring reading material... :-)