o today, instead of listening to my professor with a french accent speak about methods of reasoning, my mind started to drift to other important topics, you know…JT's recent appearance on Oprah, Lil Wayne's reference to Hilary Clinton in the lollipop song, why papa Joe Simpson is such a creep, why i care that he is (do I actually care that he is?), if my professor knows who that is or who any other prominent pop culture figure is for that matter, but, most importantly, if my professor has pink eye, or if he's just smoking a lotta weed before class, and if i should start smoking weed before class....... because then maybe i'd be thinking more about lifeeeee and loveeeeee and what makes me feeeeeeel, but really, i'd probably just fall asleep at my desk, only to be rudely awakened by the fire alarm being pulled by the evidently psycho 40 something year old woman while screaming 'i'm a married woman and this professor is attacking me!' OH WAIT, THAT ALREADY HAPPENED YESTERDAY. can summer school get any better? Maybe. Probably. But not likely.
Shit is going on lately, and I'd like to recommend the following coping skills 1) pretend it's not true 2) use judgement 3) make excuses. Maybe I am being unreasonable, or maybe my brain has decided to collect mildew and has stopped working. Either way, I'm not going to write about what's not working because there is plenty of that. Instead I'm going to recognize that every tear shed is holy. And even through my inflamed teary eyes, I can still see that this is true. Especially so if you're my professor and should be using eye drops either to kill that nasty-ass fungi causing the pink eye or relieve the bloodshot eyes from the dank-ass weed. So drop that shit. Like it's hot. Or, pink. Or something…
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