Entry 000059; 11.28.01

this was written in CS class, yesterday 11.27.01

There are a lot of ugly bastards around here. I don't mean like, 'I wouldn't do him' ugly, I mean like staring ugly. Jesus.

Why do I go to CS? I have some ridiculously impossibly high average in this class and I never pay attention. Pop quizzes, I think. Yet even so, I might as well not take those, since I don't do well because I don't do the reading at the same pace as the rest of the class, and I do shitty on them anyway.

You'd think doing well in this class would make me feel good, but it doesn't. Instead, it just makes me feel...pathetic. For being in such a ridiculously easy class. Flashbacks of foundations 11 and bio 21. Dear god. Why did they let me in those classes? I felt like I was butchering my classmates. Guilt. Was I trying? The question of whether I ever triedor did I try too hard in high school oscillates for me over time. I remember studying like mad, but I also remember never studying at all. I know I was always busy, but with schoolwork or jobs and clubs?

Homework. Homework. Homework. Lecture. Homework. Lecture. Study. Homework, study, quizz. Test, homework, lectureprojecthomeworkstudyhomeworklecturestudyhomeworkhomeworeprojectlecturestudystudystudy.

I'm hungry.

I think I will take it easy from now on. I'm out of here. Today I listened while one of my proffessors told the class that three alumni computer engineers came got laid off last week whom she had seen. Wasn't I getting into this field for security? To make me feel productive while otherwise slacking off and writing short essays about nothing? Yeah. I'm gonna stop studying as if my life depends on it. It does, but this isn't an issue for me. I'm tired of that rough schedule of work that is infrequently interrupted by impulse signals of life. How long has it been? Six years, almost. Jesus.

The one true thing I've learned here at WPI (aside that boys are slime) is that effort adn work don't mean shit. What matters is natural ability. Mr. Dinolo (highest achievement in math for the grade through his class...how the fuck did I do that?) tried to tell us that there comes a point where no matter how much work and effort you put in, no matter how hard you push yourself, your own brain limits are going to hold you back. "Not me, not here, not now" I thought. And I was partially right. Because it wasn't there and it wasn't then. It's here. It's now. It's me.

All around me, behind me, before me, I can see doors of opportunity closing, shutting off millions and trillions of brances of what I could have been, done. What might have happened.

It's funny. Because sometimes you think back and go "oh jeez thank goodness I tripped on the sidewalk that hour of that day of that year" and how little things like crashign into the love of your life seem like fate. Yet memories like that hold a scary fragility. Because if you sit there and calculate the odds AGAINST that happening, the figures boggle the mind.

Imagine all the things that don't happen.

In a parallel universe, where at some time on some day in some year, I dropped penny and that somehow resulted in me turning into a giant purple hippo.

And you know, it's likley. Not only that, It's almost impossible not to be likley. If you can understand that. Because given the fact that beyond the universe there has to be something, so we'll just call it "more of the universe" that entire infinity thing...lots of universes...and given an infinite range, that infinite amount of space ,time, jetsam and orange cans, that amount of infinity is going to DEMAND something to fill it. An infinite amount of things. And if x exists at some state in the universe, x must occur again within that infinity, and again. and again.

Even more strangely, if x doesn't exist x still exists in infinity. Something that big, that demanding of stuff to be filled with, that will generate new shit to exist just to try to fill it.

I think I'd make a good purple hippo.

17/30