Only The Dunces Wear the Caps

I wake up at 4:15 this morning.
The sun isn't even up yet. I do my sit ups. No problem. I slide off of the bed and do push-ups. Problem. I'm trembling from head to toe. I can't stop my hands and legs from shaking. I take a seat. What the Hell is up with this. Much of the fogginess is gone, leaving me with a clearer head than yesterday. Still though, I'm not too partial to that 'head in a vise' existence that was greeting me earlier.

I am also weak. I need to take a seat. But over everything, I'm awake, and early enough to do what the fuck I want to do before WECOULDN'TCARELESS tells me what to do. That's what the next few days is all about. Showing you the new boss. Making you bow before their little tin god. Well, if have it to do, I have it to do. These faggots have nothing but two things on their side: Rules and Threats. That's the only thing that they have going for them...neither of them are a bother to me. Like I said, everybody gets four months, me and them, then after that, a choice WILL be made. And there you have it.



I get to FEGS WECARE on time and report to the room on the paper. Immediately there is confusion. There are three different groups meeting in one room, and everyone has to be sorted as to who they belonged to. I wade through the crowd and find a seat in the classroom-like room and make myself comfortable with a good book. About an hour later, after most of the people were 'sorted', I got up, got on a short line, and 'checked-in' to class.

The woman that was probably the closest thing that you can call a 'teacher' but more like a 'wrangler' had a strong voice for her short stature. I got back to my book and when I looked up a moment later the woman was gone. She was replaced by a tired looking woman, sitting down in the 'teachers' chair. "So you all belong in here?" She says. How are you supposed to know, I ask. "Have you taken your IPE test?" What's that? "You aren't supposed to be here. You're supposed to be in room 4N, 4L." I get up and walk out into the hall. The hall branches off, makes wild twists and turns, as if it's trying to fucking shake me too. I soldier on. I find room 4N. It's empty. I find room 4L. It's locked.

This is very, very good. My entire class has shook me. I wander the maze of corridors like a handcuffed dummy until I find two women wandering the halls with me. I latch onto them and the three of us wander around until one of the women suggests that we just go in and sit in a classroom. Good idea! We find a room with people seated behind computers and we take seats inside. I find out that the computers are connected to the Internet. This is heaven. I get online and check my emails until the 'Instructor' walks in and tells the class that they can take a break. Everyone does except me and the two women. Are we supposed to be here? I ask the Instructor. She looks down at me: "Who are you?" I show her my papers. Another Instructor walks in and flanks me. The two of them discuss where the fuck I belong. I came from classroom 4C. Neither of them have a clue. The second instructor leaves and comes back a few minutes later. "You belong in room 4R." Thanks. I and the two women leave briskly and enter into the maze of corridors, and wander now until we find 4R and our class is there.


Great. I find a computer and take a seat, and lo and behold, it too is on the Internet. I am also unsuper- vised, meaning I can go wherever on the Internet I so desire. I am free to roam the length and breadth of the Internet unmolested. This is just like being at home!


I instantly go through an application evaluation to see what I have and if it can be used. I have email and the ability to enter information into my blogsite, so I do. While I am doing this, my counterparts are barely trying to type their names. I see that the Internet is difficult for most. They are just thrown in front of computers, without any real lessons, without any direction. They do nothing much. It seems to me that the computers are there to only babysit the masses and little else.

I dwell on this until a wave of nausea and dizziness strikes me, leaving me to mind my own fucking business and to keep from throwing up in my lap. I don't stand, neither ask for help, because I know, at these times, there is not much anyone can do for you if you're about to throw your cookies, but get the Hell out of your way. In looking about to see in which direction is the best to puke, who do I see, sitting across the classroom and up a few rows...but Paula.


Could God cut me a little slack? The moment I noticed her, the wave of nausea had passed and my stomach calmed down. It was as if some divine power wanted me to notice that she was in the room, to which I did. I settled myself back into my seat and grew comfortable.


...I had the Internet to surf.


Hobobob
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