When I was in the hospital
I was roomed with a schizophrenic
And she was the most gentle person I have ever met
There was a boy with a long deep slit across his neck
Who told very funny jokes
A girl who never spoke a word
Would draw the most beautiful pictures
The boy who shook with anxiety
Could hold the most intelligent conversations
Even the girl who screamed in her sleep and picked at her skin
Had a heart the size of the ocean
We are not who you think we are
I M HA VIBG A FC CUK ING SPIRITUAL EXPEREINCE
im like pre stress stressed like im stressed about the stress that i will b stressed about 4 school……………..education is magical
At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.
So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.
She refused to fix my grade.
In the end, she shit herself on stage.
I didn’t regret it.
Quoth the raven