"The Doctor of Weather."

- What I am planning on doing, for the time being, is posting little pieces that I write throughout my days; assignment for class or not. As a college student, some of my posts will be small writing assignments, or just excerpts. Other pieces to come are coverage of sports games (two at once in fact), pieces from a journal kept for my Intro to Communications course, and many other Gonzo-inspired works.Here is a piece I wrote in class, enjoy.

“The Doctor of Weather"

The start of class is always a struggle. Morning burns into my eyelids like a red hot brand. I glance at the clock, 10:02 a.m., what a drag. Just shut your mouth. The young man sitting two rows away is insisting that what he has to say has actual relevance… when it doesn’t. His mindless piddling combined with the confused and awkward sound of my professor’s voice annoys the shit out of me like the sound of a wood chisel on a chalkboard.

Finally, the class begins. The intervals in this class are just ridicules. This poor woman speaks with breaks in her sentences, and she’s constantly asking questions, as to think that her mouth isn’t sure where her brain is going with the next thought. Between her vocal chords and brain nerves, there is break in the circuit, they disagree as Archie Bunker and an African American neighbor. Damn, the woman just isn’t right. She teaches three classes, all at different locations. Her late nights must be filled with Wild Turkey lullaby’s…and she is no Hunter S.

Lost, and still fumbling through her words, she habitually mutters, “Today’s gonna’ be a stutter day”. This statement leads me to doubt the woman’s intelligence. Her repetitive instruction of the material to three classes has possibly had a brainwash effect on her and makes things habitual, including excuses. Fifteen minutes, and this woman hasn’t spoken a full solid sentence since class began; it’s all going to hell for her. She clumsily mutter’s, “I should have had some caffeine this morning”, the reality of this situation is ironically hilarious yet quite un-comfortable.
People sitting around me shake their morning-bent heads and roll their bloodshot eyes at the sight of our tripped-up professor. Upon reference, our semester syllabus confirms; the woman is a Doctor. Twenty minutes left in this room. Hopefully she survives her Wednesday morning, or, for the sake of my education…she doesn’t. Who knows what is troubling her mind today, it absolutely foolish to rule out the possibility that this is her true character. She could very well be under the influence of absolutely nothing at all. Whatever the case may be, extravagantly ironic or not, the broad isn’t right.

Ten minutes left until our heads are released from this questioning. I can safely speak for the general MTV generation of washed up minds in the room. Well, that’s not fair; not everyone in the room is as washed up as me and bill at twenty years old. But I guess even the “intellectuals” in the room can’t bear to continually sit through this lecturing. What am I kidding? Billy and I are well established intellectuals in our own right. A glance around the room and a sip of my water shows the entire class roster is in another world. Through the individual eyes of my fellow classmates, I can see abandonment in their current education; the blank stare of the brain can not quite making a connection with reality, and it is giving up on the situation at hand.

-Dango