Day Seven-From Class

There's only so much drivel a mind can take. This man manages to ramble on, go off on tangents, tell me mundane irrelevant stories and still be called a scholarly master. Holy Cow... I think there's only 9 minutes left to go but every minute will be documented and recorded.

This class is conducted via-screen; we're a split group, half in Jacksonville, half in Dubtown. Regardless of his location he's still just as eratic and uninformative. I'm so over classes. Just 8 minutes and I'm outta here.
I finally get to graduate again (yay!) this coming May. My final project, I think, will simply be a collegiate memoir... (six minutes to go). People are too often blinded by the supposed evils of partying and staying out late when students learn more while doing a kegstand than they ever will while sitting through College Algebra.

(Damn, still here). I'm amazed that I'm able to brilliantly (still six minutes) type this, semi-participate, and stay awake.

Work sucks. No it doesn't. What sucks is working all day, dealing with idiots and then coming to class and dealing with a huge idiot who thinks he's brilliant. According to him, he's done everything from act, write books, write essays, and built the pyramids. GOOD GOD. We haven't left yet.
(5 minutes)

This is simply a test to prove that I can indeed type for 9 minutes and perhaps some type of brilliance will spill in this manic rambling of a Full Throttle. Genius in a can. Or at least crack. Hopefully next year they will call NaBloPoMo "CrackBlog". Get ya crack on. Heh.

I think on Tuesdays I'm gonna start sharing poems (4 minutes) with you. But they will be my poems. Megs shares poems she likes; I'm get brave with it and share some I actually wrote. Perhaps the incite you absorb will be something (3 minutes) to what I imagined when I wrote it in a manic frenzy. (2 minutes)

Got to pack up. Till next time. Be cool. Be calm.
-it is what it is-