On the subject of ? ? ? 2

September 5, 2010

So uhh, where am I going with this? I honestly have no idea.

Thirty-two simple questions on the subject of modern chemistry given to the average tenth grade class, ten being general knowledge on properties of matter, twelve being general knowledge on the composition of matter, and twelve questions relating to general algebraic chemical equations. Afterward is a simple free-response essay, consisting of twelve simple paragraphs about the composition of the human body and how to use alchemy to transmute a human soul. For extra credit the student can substitute carbon for silicon in creating a diamond, and use the carbon to create a basic supercomputer motherboard in the spare time after completing the quiz.

After the simple quiz comes the usual lecture, two hours of new material to get through in order to keep pace with the syllabus, but the students know that the general pace never covers enough material for the end of course exams, so all the students do is slack off, forcing the lecture to continue the next day. Once in a while the professor manages to finish his two hour lecture, and then if time allots, the class has forty-five minutes to complete a simple lab. Heating up twenty-five milliliters of sulfuric acid.

Chances are the bell rings before the students complete their labs, so they just leave the materials on the table for the next class to deal with. With only six minutes to reach next period, their two hour ten minute class on sciences has been completed.

Misinterpretations. False reality. Contradictions. Impossibilities. All can be found in the above routine. An absurdity that one cannot believe for a second. A dream that manifests itself in a false reality. Or is it a false reality that manifests itself in a dream? Is reality what is true? Is reality what is false? Is a dream reality? A reality, a dream?

The aforementioned event in the classroom was a dream. The reality was that there was a fifty question test on chemical equations. The average human mind subconsciously blows relatively minor events into a large proportion, as the schoolgirl imagined an impossible scenario for a pressured exam.

The girl in question was named Lyssa. Not short for Alyssa, not a nickname for another name, but just Lyssa. She was your average everyday mundane teenage girl, woke up to spend meaningless hours on exterior appearances to please the shallowness of her artificial friends, living a fake life lived to please everyone under the false pretense of working for her future. The standard teen girl who lived according to other’s perceptions of her, no idea about her future, no sense of direction in life, just trying to get by unscathed by the harsh opinions of her peers.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that kind of lifestyle, mind you. Ignorance is bliss and kindness to the incompetent. Being able to keep up a shallow lifestyle can be seen as admirable, living behind fake smiles and deceitful words must take a toll on a person’s mental energy. Lying is an art that must be well practiced.

Or perhaps what was being said is too harsh. We use deceit to survive, and at heart humanity is a social species that live for the sakes of others. But how much of that good will is meant for the benefit of another, and how much of it is for a person’s own self-satisfaction?

Who knows. But the absurd dream that kept Lyssa asleep kept her from noticing her alarm, and instead her subconsciousness interpreted it as the timer signifying the end of that ridiculous exam. She got an thirty-four on that test by the way, since she used zirconium instead of silicon in that substitution. Because of that misinterpretation, Lyssa woke up about an hour late. Usually that hour is used to do those things girls usually do in the morning, straightening hair, putting on make-up, and other stuff like that. After that she would leisurely take her time getting to school, usually arriving just on time.

If Lyssa did only the bare minimum necessary to prepare for school, left out of the front door, and rushed to school, she would have made it on time. But no, she had to do superfluous things like straighten her hair and put on her make-up. Amazingly, she was able to do those things in a very timely manner, not that it helped her any in getting to school on time. But at least she looked good, which is all that really mattered in a high school girl’s eyes (unless she, you know, actually cared about her future).

By the time Lyssa rushed out the door, there were only twenty minutes left to get to school on time. A concerned person would dash like mad to get to school, but she was an average person, who rushed so she wouldn’t get a phone call home but wasn’t in enough of a rush to get her hair messy.

As she slowly dashed down the pathway to her school, she wondered why she didn’t take her bike. It could be the fact that she lacked a bike lock, but she could always hide it in one of the secret locations around the school nobody knew about. Except the faculty. And students. And random assorted visitors. It was probably called the front gate, where security always hung out, meaning the chances of getting her bike permanently stolen were slim to none. But what high school student in their right minds would willingly ask security for help, after all.

So Lyssa ran, yet didn’t run at the same time. Interesting paradox on how girls are able to do that. There was traffic on the roads as usual, and she only had to cross three crosswalks to get to the gates and she was considered on time. She checked her watch as she dashed, yet didn’t dash, across the second crosswalk.

By her estimations, she’d probably only arrive fifteen minutes late. Those fifteen minutes probably don’t matter that much in the grand scheme of things, right?

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