waste

1.4.00

11:12pm- daniel dee:
I've got something in my head that I've desperately got to get out. Problem is, of course (there's always a problem, isn't there?), I've no idea what it is. It's there, though. There's no question about that. It's a stuffy feeling in my mind which is giving me a cold and making me tired and generally not letting me do anything I should be doing, such as paying attention in class so I don't fail my Probability final. I'm trying, really, but right now I don't care to recall what an ogive chart is or how to determine the confidence interval of a proportion. Instead, all I can think about is this horribly oppressive silent noise and the atrocious buzzing sound it isn't making.

I'm going to experiment now, so bear with me. Or just go away, I don't care.

Let myself fall into my mind, get absorbed by the thick smoke clouding my thoughts. Use it. Use it to focus, and look around with it. What do I see?

My teacher, who I look up at periodically as I write, to assure that, yes, I'm paying attention and taking notes. Someone has told me that she thinks I don't like her, which isn't true at all. I love having her as a teacher, actually. Just the way she speaks, softly, gently, yet somehow not quiet, makes me admire her. Perhaps I'm even intimidated- I can imagine her as nothing short of heart-breakingly beautiful in her youth, and she seems to carry that aura with her to this day. (at this point, the other part of my mind, the part that's usually in control, thinks, "what a strange thought to have about a teacher." I tell it to shut up.) She is smart, she is fun, and she is not a pain to learn confusing math from at all. I will miss her. I rarely, if ever, miss classmates, but I frequently miss teachers. Probability formulas, on the other hand, I will never miss, although if, in the future, it helps me to know that the variance for grouped data is
[E(f*X^2m)-[(E(f*Xm)^2)/2]]/n-1
I will be happy.

Look around some more.

In a room full of 24 people thinking, shouldn't there be some sort of energy produced? I'm not expecting to be able to fuel my car or light my house with thought, but... shouldn't you be able to feel something? If, just by walking through a mausoleum full of people I never knew, I can feel the mourning of their families that have come to visit in the past, why can't I feel active thought in a classroom?

Maybe there's something wrong here...