My professors are employed for the benefits of their profession. Under this assumption, I am involved in a mediocre system with mediocre teachings. We are fed recycled information which produce nothing beyond conventional thinking. Critical inquiry is ignored. On a typical day, a discussion will take place based on echoed rhetoric from previous discussions. Books are read in haste. Education is the optional burden.
In 2007, a month after graduating from high school, I began working for a restaurant in Claremont, Walters, and while I learned the many ways fancy restaurants deceive their customers, I left 6 months later, tired and disillusioned from other personal deceptions, the kind to reduce the spirit to an insignificant worth. Walters had taught me to hate ungainly work. One morning, I tended a man who claimed to be Gorbachev's cousin. Another time I was given the title 'perfect bread giver', which, on both occasions, made me hate the restaurant industry, dishonest men, and life another twelve degrees. The quality of work I produced in my final days of mental poverty verified suspicions from staff and managers alike that they needed to search for numbers in the dusty folder of employment applications. Think opening the tombstones of lost Egyptian pharaohs in the old kingdom. I left, bitter and full of stupid resentments.
Every day reality resembles a cheap version of the past.
Wild animals know what real freedom is.
