My geography teacher is one of the most naive pessimists I've ever listened to. He doesn't like the fact that not-nice things are happening all over the world, he's pretty sure that we have to do nice things for everybody, (but it's not nice to do things—even nice things—if they don't want you to) and... Oh, agony. Quite honestly, I pity him very much. Especially when I start taking the things he's saying and actually follow them out to what they mean. "HIV/AIDS, Ebola, Malaria, and many other tropical diseases are bad because they kill people, and the dieases are caused by too many people," he says. I counter, "then that would mean that the cure is to reduce the population—to kill people." But that, he counters, isn't nice.

Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Damned with no-one to save you.

I stopped my speaking tonight and heard a still small voice.

What is celebration
What is grief
Age and youth are the same to you
I and all others are just the same
I claim a double negative
My whirlwind life
My self
Unright to be called mine
Unright to spin chaotic
You are right
Three times true
I AM
You are life
Love
Pure and endless
Boundless holy
Slow this frantic soul I am
Until the raging of the do
Becomes the comfort of
Be and know

I spent the day considering the various implications of the various means of firing my economics class. To be fair to all the paying students, I feel that I have to make it a point to not only get a refund for the class but also take a meaningful stand against the behaviour which is causing me to feel that I ought to leave it. Without even trying to incite ill-will, a number of people (ranging from current students to faculty) have suggested that this behaviour is expected but unacceptable from this teacher—though nobody seems to have the ganas to be a whistle-blower. I don't know why. Sure, he's been there forever, but I don't see that as sufficient reason that he should cheat the students of their time and money.

Hah. And they say I'm not an idealist.

Anyway, I'm trying to decide whether I should mention the possibility of an appeal to the accreditation boards which the school is governed by, or if I should pursue it at the Dean's level exclusively. I'm concerned that if I do pursue it only at the Dean's level, I'll be encouraged to drop the class and even recieve a refund as long as I keep quiet and don't pursue it any farther, though I'm sure that my concern is mostly my own pessimism.

The light brushed up against your shoulder-blade, I could see what you were reading

I am at the college at the moment. I came with the intent of dropping a class—my microeconomics class—because we have met for a total of just over two hours in the previous seven weeks of class. What's that? You want to see a schedule? Okay...

I don't really care about the class. Shock.

As I mentioned, I'm at the college. In the library, in fact. The assistant to the librarian is an invisible kid, a complexion that's neither good nor bad, hair that can't decide if it's red or blonde, short or shaggy, kempt or un-. He wears a non-descript polo, non-descript khakis, has a non-descript voice. If you were to create a massive database with every aspect of a person on a scale of one-to-ten, his would be the one profile that was nothing but fives. Maybe the occasional five-point-five or four-point-eight.

If he's so unremarkable, then why do I mention him? Because he has one feature that is shocking. He wears glasses with dark lenses. Dark dark dark. Like Chesterton's Mr. Bull, one can hardly look at him without thinking that perhaps his eyes are just too frightening to be seen, or missing altogether, or that they echo with some unspeakable blasphemy. It is a terrifying thing to see.

Especially when he would completely disappear without them.