Soft-Core Scholar

I've always thought it would be really badass to be a scholar. But a scholar of old -- back when that was an occupation one threw oneself into with the same gusto a dedicated teacher or a doctor would. To make it your job to study and acquire knowledge.

There's a certain sense of martyrdom that goes along with it, like you sort of have to be uncomfortable through your knowledge quest -- have to read in very low light n' stuff.

That's why I'm forcing myself to sit upright at my desk for the 5th hour, no ass-pillow allowed -- feelin' that wood grain!

Aristotle and Nietzsche would likely scoff at my cram sessions of tort and contract law a week before exams. Spineless child's play, they would say. They did this sort of thing when they were in diapers.

Here's an exciting law fact that struck me: The only two things in the world considered common property, and thus without an owner, are the "high seas" and the air.

And even those- if you bottle either, you can own and sell it.

Please shoot me if I start writing in legalese.

I May Have Spoken Too Soon ...

re the antibodies. ... and the wine.

Get By With a Little Help From My Wine

So.. after glass two, here is what I've accomplished:

A Clinical Thanksgiving

Here's a fun thing to try:

Next time you have the privilege of undergoing grief or other extreme mental anguish, pause at intervals and observe the course of your emotions. It's quite an interesting process.

The brain, or your psyche, or whatever controls the level of shitty you feel seems to work the same way your body does when it's fighting, the flu. A good physical equivalent to the way I've been feeling would be Swine flu (remnants of my earlier "eat worms n' die" party are obvious here).

The brain begins building mental antibodies the minute you feel that first tear roll away from your cornea, though you don't really realize it through all the turmoil that ensues.

And then, a little down the road, there's a distinct point, like a fever breaking, when you start seeing the fruits of those antibodies and the shitty starts to reside. Though, of course, it'll be a while before you're back to your vibrant, life-loving self.

I think I felt the break-point today -- with a little help from homemade popcorn and pleasantly mind-numbing property law lectures.

Oh Yeah ...

Sleep Deprivation + Sorrow = Crazy Time.

Not advisable.