Tuesday, March 02, 2004
shake well
I like calculators. I like calculators because they can do things I can't do; multiply, subtract, reduce, clear. I wish more things were like calculators.
Today I got into a confrontation with a run-of-the-mill, obnoxious Jersey frat boy in my English class. He equated civil liberties during wartime with 'fucking a five year old in the ass' and I felt the need to put him in his place. It didn't feel as good as it should have. I think I'm losing this side of me. Or at least my own personal enjoyment of my spontaneous conflicts. I felt bad after... directly after. I felt bad as in dissatisfied. I'm dissatisfied with the class, the argument, the shoes I'm wearing and the way frat boy nonchalantly spews out obscenities for the sake of spewing out obscenities.
He's in my group for presentations. When we had to go into these groups, he acted as if nothing had happened.
"I'm writing a paper about the sexual revolution. It's going on right now you know, the sexual revolution. It's a wicked sweet paper," he said.
I congratulate him on this. I feel worse about reprimanding him. But I still have contempt, because I don't want someone like this to write about any kind of sexual revolution.
Thanks frat boy, for telling me about this sexual revolution, that's going on right now! Holy fuck! Thanks for telling me you fuck your girlfriend without a condom, and how great it is that she's on the pill. Thanks for making English class an even more unpleasant experience than usual. And most of all, thanks for bringing out this inner feeling of dissatisfaction I've been so cleverly hiding. I don't want to deal with it.
It never shuts up.
It's not easily calculated or solved.
It's you without that awful trashy accent.
I hate math.
Today I got into a confrontation with a run-of-the-mill, obnoxious Jersey frat boy in my English class. He equated civil liberties during wartime with 'fucking a five year old in the ass' and I felt the need to put him in his place. It didn't feel as good as it should have. I think I'm losing this side of me. Or at least my own personal enjoyment of my spontaneous conflicts. I felt bad after... directly after. I felt bad as in dissatisfied. I'm dissatisfied with the class, the argument, the shoes I'm wearing and the way frat boy nonchalantly spews out obscenities for the sake of spewing out obscenities.
He's in my group for presentations. When we had to go into these groups, he acted as if nothing had happened.
"I'm writing a paper about the sexual revolution. It's going on right now you know, the sexual revolution. It's a wicked sweet paper," he said.
I congratulate him on this. I feel worse about reprimanding him. But I still have contempt, because I don't want someone like this to write about any kind of sexual revolution.
Thanks frat boy, for telling me about this sexual revolution, that's going on right now! Holy fuck! Thanks for telling me you fuck your girlfriend without a condom, and how great it is that she's on the pill. Thanks for making English class an even more unpleasant experience than usual. And most of all, thanks for bringing out this inner feeling of dissatisfaction I've been so cleverly hiding. I don't want to deal with it.
It never shuts up.
It's not easily calculated or solved.
It's you without that awful trashy accent.
I hate math.
