My Confession, Part Three

The thing about going to Stanford is that you've got to do a bunch of stuff for them to let you in, and being a slacker that barely graduated from high school is not really a part of that. I had made my goal, however, and seeing as it was at least theoretically possible I saw no reason to abandon it and so I went to city college; that noble institution of slackers, morons, and the generally confused. I resolved that this time I would execute my assignments to the best of my ability. I would take school seriously. I do not know why I wanted to do this. Looking back, I can only understand it as either a case of demonic posession, or as a long term performance art piece titled 'Irony.' I had not decided to take school seriously because I wanted a Career. Such a notion was entirely foreign to me. No, the line I used was about Education. If asked "Why do you want to go to Stanford?" My anwer was, "To get an education, which is valuable in and of itself."

Nonsense.

BUT - I was determined to achieve my goal. In my first term at city college I chose an introductory philosophy class and had my mind completely blown on the very first night. It was a three hour session. The professor was effective, to say the least. He would prove to be a very powerful influence on me for the next few years. After that first class I walked down the florescent hallway alone, and I could feel my brain swimming in my skull. The hallway was empty except for myself and two guys in green jumpsuits, one of whom had a piece of cardboard layed out. He was spinning on his head while his friend watched. There was no music other than the hum of hallway lighting. I walked by the breakdancers and down the stairs, through the campus and the parking lot to my car.

to be continued...