"Is Psychology and art or a science," the professor asked.

We all knew the answer he was looking for. No one wanted to say it.

"It's both it's neither," a girl said quickly. "You can tell I'm not a psych major," she followed quickly. It's what I wanted to say, but given that I don't know this professor, and right now I'm hoping that he ends up being my advisor, and I'm a little intimidated by his beginning of class talk, I keep my mouth shut. For once.

"It's a science," some brown-noser says sitting at the front of the class.

"Yes!" The professors excitement is radiant.

Not another one. I'm really irritated by this physics-envy that psychologists get. It's like they're completely oblivious. Wouldn't be the first time. Turns me off in a big way. I like the discipline, and I have great hopes for what it can illuminate, but I think it's all the Women's Studies going to my head.

"What we need is to develop a different epistemological system that values non scientifically obtained knowledge."

"You're such a women's studies major."

"I think what I don't like about psychology is that it's approached from an empirical method, rather than a theoretically. I'm a theory junkie. There's a problem here."

"What! Psychology is all theory. Freud, I mean hello!"

"Right, but no one like Freud any more. And with reason."

"Good point I suppose." She paused for a long moment. "So there's no theory?"

"Well, I mean there's theory in everything, but it's empirically constructed, not discursively."

"Bull, it's always discursively constructed."

"True. Well you and I know this, but that doesn't help things if they're not taught this way. Ultimately it will be fine, but for now I have to sit through the damn classes."

"You'll do it. Just fine."

"Of course, doesn't mean I can't enjoy a little misery now and then."

"You're a strange one, Sam."