I recently decided to become smart.
This process begins with a trip to a library.
After checking out a large stack of books on such topics as String Theory, the Higgs bosom, and fringe physics, I go home.
I have always envied the ease with which scientific people be sciency.
It comes so natural to them, and I wish I had something that came naturally to me.
On the toilet now, flipping through one of these tomes, it occurs to me that I have no idea what anyone is talking about.
I am sitting at the school computer because summer is over.
My thoughts are no smarter now than they were a month ago, despite my lavatorial dabblings in science.
This is my 11th year at this job.
If a man sobs in a classroom with three other people around, does the falling tree make a sound?
Does nothing ever change in Gweenbrick's bag of thematic tricks?
Still chubby, still bald, still puzzled by a total lack of financial security.
I did eat an entire bag of tortilla chips smothered in melted cheese recently, a depression fueled dip in the moral quagmire of nacho orgies and all night Minecraft.
When you check the clock at 3.00 in the morning, yellow grease stains fanned out in a spatter pattern from your slack, open mouth, your mind on a dizzying high from the pixellated tower you have just formed, built according to the Golden Mean, you realize that your life has spun its great climax and you are now half dozing through the twilight of its afterglow.
There is no progress or regression; there is just aged, feeble stasis, most notable for its wretched breath and forward head posture.
Forward head posture is one of my deepest fears, which goes a long way towards pinpointing just exactly what is wrong with America.
Have not drawn in a month so a bit rusty.