My Comparative Politics professor--- you could put that title, meaning "trained and distinguished teacher," in quotations if you so desire--- rambled toward himself as usual today. To pass the time I went through my usual routine of daydreaming and doodling on my notes Lee e-mails us so we don't even have to attempt to keep focus and record notes from class. Today my mind took a vacation to this weekend, when I actually was on vacation. I spent the weekend in Melbourne with my buds Nathan, Jamey, and Jennifer. If you don't believe I had a killer time, just check out the flaming blisters on the inside of my feet. Frankly I don't think I've ever had a more painful blister than the one on my right foot. My strategy will be to just wear sandals for the next 3 years, maybe buy some band-aids to conceal the grotesque scene mutating near my ankles.

Usually I use my pen to draw on my notes during class because I need some sort of entertainment. I got a little self-concious because the guy sitting next to me today is an artist and draws these detailed portraits of our professor in action. There was no way I could display my stick figures and crooked patterns in front of this guy. So I wrote. I made two little poems about my boredom. I intended for them to be more like song lyrics, but considering I haven't completed a composition since middle school, the words I squiggled down in five minutes (I think it was actually about 8 or 9 minutes) will probably just remain on Page Two, Day 12. Here are my two dedications to Comparative Politcs:

"Blah to Stay" (Fast, 3/4 time, G major)

He talks, and
I hear blah.
He talks, and
I hear blah.
He pauses, and...
I don't know
because my ears
still scream of blah.
It's blah to stay.
It's blah to all he'll say.

See, terrible, huh?

"Countdown" (E major or minor, somewhat largo)

Imagine seventy-five minutes,
yearning for a savior,
pleading for a purpose.

Imagine seventy-five minutes,
depleted, fluttering toward a dumpster
filled with the rambling of a poor, kind man.
(A poor, kind man) whose path has forked in erroneous manners.
Constant interruption of the internal and external.

An interruption of seventy-five minutes
never to be used again,
forever spent here,
outside life so near.

And that's what I do waiting for Lee to dismiss me from Comparative Politics. Only 16.5 hours until my return!