=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= This is your brain on life -------------------------- A mind is a terrible thing. If you have one, they'll try to waste you. My mind has always kept me down. I got a 1340 on my SATs in seventh grade. Goody for me, right? Well, instead of that getting me ahead, it got me beaten up. I don't mean once, I mean on a daily basis. I was a punching bag for every bully in my school. Although most of them told me my smart mouth had something to do with it, too. After the first two weeks of daily beatings, it actually seemed to be helping me, if you can believe that. I didn't cry when they hit me. I didn't start hitting them back at that point, but their punches didn't seem to phase me anymore. They gave up on me, and seemed to forget about me and move on to new prey. Then it happened. There was this girl named Mari who I had the crush on for the longest time, but of course she dated one of the bullies. While walking through the halls during my study hall period, I saw him hit her. He *hit* her. Not a slap, mind you, a punch. He *hit* her. I wasn't to stand for such shit. I walked up to her, she was on the ground crying, him standing over her, and now telling me to "back the fuck away". He tried to push me as I bent over to help her up. Once she was off the ground, I put my arm around her and tried to help her walk away. He grabs me by the shoulder and I turn away. "What's this, pussy?," he says to me. He hits me. In all the days he and his friends beat me, He had never hit me like this. I fell over, and could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Fuck this. I got up, and hit him back - twice in the face, three more times in the stomach. It was like all the rage I had ever felt came out on him. He was on the ground now. The bell had just rung, and all the rest of the school came filing out of their classes. I could feel them staring, I could hear them laughing. But I didn't stop. I began kicking him in the stomach, and continued to do so until two of the security guards pulled me away. I was later told I broke two of his ribs. And aside from a black eye and 3 weeks of In School Suspension, I emerged unscathed. The next year and a half, I was not fucked with. Good thing right? Then comes Freshman year. Its like you fight so hard to get to the top of your school, and then the system forces you to start all over again. But it's a good thing too. A fresh start. I deliberately picked a high school that I knew none of the people from my school were going to. Here I wasn't a brain. I was a Freshman. Soon enough I got mixed up with the wrong crowd. My freshman year was mostly forgotten in a haze of refer and the smell of boiling heroin. I lost sixty pounds though, and was no longer the fat kid. That's really the only plus I can think of from my freshman year. But I promised myself that my sophomore year was gonna be different. I went to all my classes. But the hour a day of student assistance in the computer lab, and being on the school newspaper, really helped me through the day, but at the same time it hurt me. Ms. Lyons was the head of the computer lab, and I knew so much more than she. I set up the whole lab within the first week, while she asked what I was doing. But yet again, brains get me in trouble. I was asked to conference with one of the administrators. He informed me that the school has a list of "known Hackers". He then went on to explain that the purpose of this list was so "if there are any problems with any of our computers or phones, we go to you first." This statement was horrible enough. Then he tells me "you're going on this list." WHAT?!?!? So because I am smarter than you, because I am smarter than my teachers, I am a suspect in a crime that hasn't even been committed?!? I told him not to do that. He said he was going to anyway. I told him to get to fuck. He told me that I would get a week of ISS for that statement. Despite the fact that I kept trying to get this story in the school paper, we are censored again and again. Funny how the administrator who told me I'm on the list, is the same one who gets the choice of what gets censored and what doesn't. Then I decide to run for class president. The gal who I'm running against has been president both Frosh and Soph years. I want to be it junior year. So I run. First I get kicked out for running a "slanderous campaign". Their definition: I made the statement of "I think our class needs a change." I complain and make a stink, I get back in, much to her dismay. After all, it was her and her student council cronies who decided to kick me out in the first place. Within a week, I get kicked out again. This time I don't get an explanation. I am called into a conference with the principal. "You're out of the election." "What?! Why?!" "We don't feel that you're the best choice for our school, or for your class." "Well, isn't that for my class to decide on election day?" "You're out of the election." Fuck her. I kept putting up posters, only adding "WRITE ME IN!" on the bottom. They don't stop me. Election Day comes, and several people tell me they wrote me in. The gal's name isn't on the ballot. Because when I was kicked out, they named her President. Out of a little over 200 ballots, 183 have my name written in. I was what the people wanted. I won. I played by their rules, despite the fact that they tried to handicap me, and I still won. Of course I wouldn't be allowed to serve. Apparently votes aren't what win elections. I took the pussy way out. I forwarded the gal's phone to a 1-900 sex line and handed out the number around school, and turned the principals phone into a pay phone. That'll learn 'em. Now it's the summer between my sophomore and junior year. I got fired recently because of my morals. I was working as a telemarketer at a place that sold credit card security. Because it was my first month I was supposed to read the script verbatim, but in a rebuttle it said that if a customer asked "How would someone get my credit card info?", I was supposed to say "There are malicious criminals called hackers that will stop at nothing to get your information." I refused to say it. I refused to help perpetuate a myth. And besides, it seemed I didn't need to. The quota was three sales a day, and I was making at least 4 or 5 a day. But the boss was monitoring, and when I didn't read the script, he called me to his office to talk to me. More specifically, to fire me. So I am skulking back to my cubicle to gather my stuff and go, when I see my supervisor going through my briefcase. He says it's to make sure I didn't steal anything. He pulls an issue of 2600 out and thrusts it in my face. "What the fuck is this? Are you stealing credit card numbers?!" I was shocked. just because, I read about hackers, because I support the cause (I'm not even a hacker!), I am supposed to be a thief?! It seemed as though he had believed the shit we were supposed to spew on the phones. I took my mag, and my briefcase, and stormed outta there. A mind is a terrible thing. If you have one, they'll try to waste you. ~Tuxedo Mask If I had a Tux sense, I think it would be tingling right about now. 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