School starts Tuesday, but I’m not even worried about it.  I practically diarrheaed past my psychology classes as an undergrad, so I should be able to handle this with practically no problems.

The reason for the confidence is because I have an understanding of the brain.  Do I know everything?  Of course not.  That’s why I’m still in school.  However, psychology is a lucid science as we gain a greater understanding of the human brain, neurology being almost like auto shop.  After all, brakes are brakes, are they not?  It doesn’t matter whether you have an ABS (anti-lock braking system) or EBS (electronic braking system), the principle is the same: stop the motherfucking car before we go over the God damn cliff!

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do?!”

I forget whether I have thirteen months or nineteen.  Regardless, I will do much better in life than anyone expected.

Hell, that’s already the case, because no one thought I was going to graduate from college, let alone high school.  That’s how damaged my brain is from meningitis.  We further have to consider what the pallets and chokeholds did to me.   I’m now going to throw the axes at graduate school.

My sister doesn’t agree with this, but we don’t agree on much these days anyway.  While she’s looking out for me (because she does care), she’s not sure that I can do this because….well, I don’t know.  She just has, let’s just say….her doubts.

It’s not that she thinks I’m stupid, because I was surprised when our mother informed me that my sister (who runs two mental hospitals, has her own private practice, and teaches at two universities) told our mother that she thinks I’m smarter than she is.

It’s my frustration with computers which worries her.

Well, that is why I go to the campus itself, because my Broca’s Area is FUBAR and I can’t explain things the way that I want to to the technicians.

The Broca’s Area is responsible for transforming thought into speech, and I just experience difficulties explaining things-except through print.  This is part of the reason why many people doubt my intellect-which explains why I’m not one of those “better citizens” you meet on the street, and I just love it when people try to guess what I’m trying to tell them because it puts me under more pressure and just makes me want to do bad things to them-so, I get it.

Thankfully, I have a woman who understands that I have this problem, as my ex-wife didn’t believe me.

I should be okay.  And once I figure it out, I’ll help the ones who started out just like me.


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