2001-10-08 - 10:45 p.m.
In a room full of smart arses
A room so dim, perfectly complemented by a relentless droning in the background.
I study Exhibit A (the centre piece)- His wealth of knowledge (textbook regurgitation?), political correctness (no answer is wrong, just not quite hitting the nail on its big fat head), and I wonder why I've seen him having a coffee by himself before class, looking so small in his power suit.
I study Exhibit B (Smart Arse #1)- You would think that the hard time he must have had in high school would have taught him to shut the fuck up.
I evaluate Exhibit C (Smart Arse #2)- Why do people feel the need to impose the banality of their experiences on others? And yet we share not his zest, nor eagerness to impress.
I despise Exhibit D (Really a closet smart arse who thinks it cool to hate all smart arses)- Smut, parasite, absolutely irksome.
And then there's me. The Other in their eyes. Busy nodding, scribbling, tuning out. I've stopped speaking up because I have nothing good to say. Can you blame me?
