Film Theory and Fishnet Stockings

Quote of the Day: "A writer of fiction lives in fear. Each new day demands new ideas and he can never be sure whether he is going to come up with them or not."
-Roald Dahl

This semester I'm taking 18 credit hours, which is more than I'd ever taken, but I was feeling rather confident about my classes. That was until last night, when I went to my film theory class.

First of all, I don't even know what the hell "film theory" means, but the class completes my media arts minor so I figured I could learn something when I registered. My professor, a tall, slender blonde woman, entered the class wearing a grey wool skirt, a matching top, a black fur neck wrap, black heels, and fishnet stockings. The neck wrap and heels mader her already intimidating stature look even larger, and she left the wrap on for the entirety of the three and a half hour class. She talked in a quiet, steady, and very stern tone and emphasized just how difficult the class would be. She had these green eyes that were so light that they gave her this certain intensity that gave her a reptilian gaze, making one fear that she may strike at any minute. She looked like a darker, hotter version of Cruella Deville.

And all of this would have certainly been quite sexy if I wasn't relying on this femme fatale to give me a grade that would earn me my minor. So, as she dimmed the lights and turned on Metropolis, I sat in my plastic seat and quaked in the dark when she paced the room and surveyed her students, her victims, with that terrifying gaze. It's going to be a long semester.