I'm dumber than I look.

If you didn’t know, people think I’m brilliant. Hold on, before you get your panties in a knot, notice that I didn’t say I thought I was brilliant, I said people think that I am. Case in point: Professor X (no, not the founder of the X-Men, X as in “an unnamed variable") on the first day of classes told me that I didn’t have to start showing up until the winter term because he had a feeling I already knew my material. I’d taken a class with him before and I guess he thinks he knows me.

Anyway.

Instead of dragging my ass to class and lugging my laptop and books Professor X said (in not so many words) that I could I sit on my ass at home, watch TV Judges make TV judgments, eat bon-bons, and some time when it was convenient for me make an appointment with him to discuss a paper I would write for him in exchange for freedom. I figured that that leisurely, lackadaisical line of attaining a few required credits was certainly a deal.

So… here I am, left to my own devices. I’m reading a huge text, and trying to create a topic for an essay of my own design. It’s a lot harder than you’d think. I’m used to being the one shot with the question, not the one loading the gun, firing the bullet, and running ahead of it to catch it. It’s a neat trick, I guess.

Well… I don’t have anything else for you to cram into your eyes and subsequently your brain, but I do have this from my readings so far:

“Poetry unregulated by philosophy is a danger to soul and community.”

I also have this from my msn nick:

“What kind of pussy is scared of poetry?”

Totally not brilliant, I just play one on tv.

or something like that.