dis n dat
So. School's school. I'm only taking 3 classes in hopes of putting the necessary effort towards all of them. Vertebrate Phisiology, which seems like a lot of work. Protein Biotechnology, a lab that I haven't gone to yet since I added it after the first class day, and Evolution, a lot of reading, but also supremely interesting. Something that makes sense!
I like being in school again. With all the really annoying idiots. Is it bad that I automatically discount 85-90 percent of the people I come in contact with? It just seems like such a waste of energy at this point to even bother talking to people that I obviously have no interest in socially. I guess this is a really closed-minded way to look at things. And I guess this is why I have so few good friends. Not that I necessarily mind. It's just nice to have a fresh face every once in a while.
Sometimes, sitting in hallways or classrooms, sipping my Sprite from the downstairs vending machine and leaning against the glass case containing experimental research on the mating habits of the spiny lobster, I cannot help but overhear the innane drone of college student conversations. Laced with stories of weekend binges or homework questions, I have to fight the physical need to run. Run far away from all of those people, planting a swift punch in each of their faces as I go. One day, It will happen. And I will never look back.
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I was walking my dog yesterday. Past the cemetery, when I heard a far-off trumpet playing a low, sad tune. I figured it was for the freshly-dug grave canopied by a blue tarp tent that was visible from my street. The music stopped and we kept walking. The usual route. When I reached the top of a hill bordering the cemetery, the music began again, but this time I could see a middle-aged man seated on a stone bench at the end of a gravestone. The music began to quiver and was cut short. I looked. Realized eerily that he was playing to the grave of a 9 year old boy, a grave that I had noticed before, thought tragic. I suddenly turned around, not wanting to disturb him in his mourning. I walked home, a chill over my body in the scorching evening heat.
Sometimes it is good to believe in heaven.
I like being in school again. With all the really annoying idiots. Is it bad that I automatically discount 85-90 percent of the people I come in contact with? It just seems like such a waste of energy at this point to even bother talking to people that I obviously have no interest in socially. I guess this is a really closed-minded way to look at things. And I guess this is why I have so few good friends. Not that I necessarily mind. It's just nice to have a fresh face every once in a while.
Sometimes, sitting in hallways or classrooms, sipping my Sprite from the downstairs vending machine and leaning against the glass case containing experimental research on the mating habits of the spiny lobster, I cannot help but overhear the innane drone of college student conversations. Laced with stories of weekend binges or homework questions, I have to fight the physical need to run. Run far away from all of those people, planting a swift punch in each of their faces as I go. One day, It will happen. And I will never look back.
===========================================================
I was walking my dog yesterday. Past the cemetery, when I heard a far-off trumpet playing a low, sad tune. I figured it was for the freshly-dug grave canopied by a blue tarp tent that was visible from my street. The music stopped and we kept walking. The usual route. When I reached the top of a hill bordering the cemetery, the music began again, but this time I could see a middle-aged man seated on a stone bench at the end of a gravestone. The music began to quiver and was cut short. I looked. Realized eerily that he was playing to the grave of a 9 year old boy, a grave that I had noticed before, thought tragic. I suddenly turned around, not wanting to disturb him in his mourning. I walked home, a chill over my body in the scorching evening heat.
Sometimes it is good to believe in heaven.