Renaissance

I have decided to give this baby another twirl. Six months later. The way I will do it (unless I am incredibly inspired by something that I am really itching to write about and my hands are on this exact keyboard begging for me to spend my free time on blogspot) will be to transcribe the things that I write in class. I feel like that is a frequent enough event that I could manage to post semi-frequently and feel like I am contributing to some community. Even if it's a virtual one.

Here goes. I wrote this about a month ago, in the tiniest handwriting possible, when some kid kept trying to see what I was drawing in my pink cougar spiral.

I can't tell you how much I enjoy writing small. Highly cathartic, this. I sincerely believe that if I do this, it will make onlookers think I'm writing a genius piece of literature. "Why else would he write so small?" They will wonder. Well, keep on wondering you peeping tom. I write this small to tantalize. Its like a seductive neighbor intentionally using translucent drapes. You may be close, but you just can't tell. Certainly, my favorite "moth" in this class is the brain dead seducee behind me. Keep trying to look around my beautiful shoulders. Catch a word like "colloquial" and speculate as you slump back again. Should you be writing? Did you miss the memo? Oh, I suppose you did. Big trouble for you, buddy. Get movin'.

I want to add, for your sake my little blog babies, that it is in this same class that I receive a daily sudoku puzzle from the attractive girl who replaced the brain dead bum who used to sit right behind me. Everyday she tears them out, and passes them around to her neighbors. I have concocted, in my mind, that if I do them the fastest that she will be more interested in me thereby. It's my only incentive to pick up the pace. And everyday I'm let down that she doesn't write her number on the torn out puzzle she hands me. One day, darling. One day.

I'm glad to be here, even if school does try to kill me. You're the best.