Thursday, May 19, 2011

Celebrating Being Over-Achievers

Why does the phrase "over-achiever" manage to convey such disdain, an image of someone with dark straight hair pulled back severely into a velvety headband, primly sitting (with perfect posture, of course) over a pile of books they are methodically going through as they do every evening, sans friends, in order to make the highest A's possible? That's not the image you get? Oh, well. . .

I still say the term "over-achiever" has ridiculously abysmal connotations. I am proud to say that I would put myself in that category. So when final grades were posted, I peered at them with trepidation. Not out of fear that I may not have passed a class: oh no. I knew I passed them all. But if I had made a B? I would have been furious! I know I sound like a person with a high perfection model here, but I will write down what I told my hubby: I did not work and study for a B in any of my classes, I worked for an A.

And I got all A's. And so did hubs! Because we are smart, really. I sometimes have a sneaking suspicion that the professors' vital life force has been stamped out due to the crushing nature of the average college student's desire for learning anything other than how to make the perfect Jagerbomb, and the professors now teach with such low expectations, even the kid who came to class once and failed that test will make at least a D. If the professor sees a particular sparkle in the eye of a young pupil, if he hears a particularly witty or insightful comment, or at least a student that uses the correct jargon, that is an automatic A. My suspicions don't stop me from working hard, anyway.

So, yesterday, Matt and I went to dinner and a movie for finally being able to breathe after the semester. Pasta at Johnny Carino's and (non-3D) Thor were good rewards. So was the cherry chocolate ice cream we bought afterward and ate while we watched anime together.

As for Thor, his character was great. The right amount of cockiness, the right amount of humility, the right amount of self-sacrifice. Loki. . . mmm, not so much. He was just sort of somber and emo, not the Loki I ever had prancing about in my head when I heard the name.

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