8:29 am. Monday

The people I went to high school with were...completely insane. No, really, they were. But on top of that, they were insanely brilliant. Their minds worked in ways I am only beginning to comprehend. I was the dumb kid. No really, I was. I really should have been in remedial everything, but I kept passing those stupid standardized tests.

The reason I mention this is because they would write this amazing prose and the title of it would be a date and time, in numeric form. They were big on time/space binaries. And good writing in general. I digress though; I figured that since I am not writing my paper that is due at 9, I may as well describe the moment for lack of something better to do.

***

They tell me I'm crazy for thinking "The Yellow Wallpaper" is about a woman's need for use-value. But they're all crazy for thinking it isn't. What I really don't get though, is why they teach us to make huge stretches of the imagination only to invalidate it with some crap theory by someone named Fish. The whole school thing seems incredibly counterproductive. Which is why I will not write my paper.

Actually, that is a lie. I am perfectly willing to write my paper, if someone actually cared. What difference does it make, I wonder, if all that is ever going to happen to it is some perpetual student of book-learning gives it a grade? I'll tell you. Once a teacher gives a student a grade, he creates a hierarchy of intelligent people he feels he can support in order to reproduce himself. If anyone was wondering, that is how teachers like Muhlestein and Cronin create their lists of favorites. They choose the people most likely to carry on their own ideals of academia, scholarship, and sense of humor. Which means, that in reality, the education system is really the source of corruption and evil...and the downfall of humanity, which I personally don't support--therefore I refuse almost violently to write my paper.

Or, maybe I'm just above writing papers in general. I detest them. They are the gross wad of three month old gum stuck to the underside of my desk that makes me puke inside when I happen to accidentally touch it. They are the bane of my existence. They are a useless form of busy work. I will not write my paper.

The truth of the matter is there is no reason for me not writing it other than I just don't want to. The greater truth is that I will eventually do it because I am trapped in an undemocratic institution that dictates that I do so. I do so or I fail and leave school. I fail and leave school for a life poorer and joyless life than I previously had. I fail or type, fail or write, fail or die in some miserable state....and all at 8:29 on a Monday morning.

I will not write my paper...yet.