Idle hands...

Don Quixote of La Mancha, a fictional character in author Miguel de Cervantes highly praised novel "The Ingenios Hidalgo Don Quixote of La Mancha, is a textbook example of childhood imagination, curiosty, and adventure. A more in depth and professional version of Maurice Sendak's character Max of "Where the Wild Things Are." Though it hardly does Don Quixote justice, the two bear striking similarities. The obvious being their infamous imagination, as Don Quixote believes he is a knight-errant, a true hero of yesteryear. Seeking out quests, monsters to slay, and things of the like. Max, like Don Quixote, also believes himself to be something he, in all reality, is not. A king, an adventurer, a sorcerer. So much so that he creates a reality of his own, sinking himself into his own thoughts and perceptions. Living in a world seen only through his eyes.




Now that that's out of the way, I can get down to what I really came for. Currently kickin' it in the Kings Library of Miami Oxford, I'm mearly attempting to kill a couple of hours until 4:30. What happens at 4:30? Kyle's got a little art show going on, and I being the supportive, and all around nice guy that I am, agreed to go to it. However, being that I caught a ride here, and Kyle has class, unbeknownst to me, until the afformentioned time, I must fend for myself in an unfamiliar, unforgiving, alien world. I thought I would be able to find a more secluded computer where I could, guilt free, hang out and play around on addictinggames.com, without feeling like a complete idiot. I was wrong. I'm more or less positioned smack dab in the middle of the library, my back turned to a respectable army of students, not knowing whether or not they're actually convinced I'm writing something of worth to a college education. This trickery I may or may not be successfully pulling off, explains my half-assed joke of, what they believe to be, a "book report" comparing an eight sentence childrens novel, to a fullblown literary epic. I mean, I'm not bullshitting around with the deception aspect of it. I've got wikipedia, dictionary.com, and numerous other research related websites open to add to the effect. I suppose I just have to worry about wether or not an eagle eyed asshole decides to take a gander at my impeccible writing abilities. Who could blame them?




I saw a kid riding around on a scooter today. He played it off to his friend, who was walking, which makes the scooter look even more redundant, as if he weren't being serious, as though he thought it would be funny to onlookers to see a grown man on a mobility mechanism designed for ten year old girls. He even went so far as to attempt to do a killer move on his iron steed. He, of course, wasn't successful at executing his incredibly difficult maneuver. Which, I don't know made him look like more of an idiot or not. Anyone who can actually do a killer stunt on a Razor Scooter must have spent some time trying to pull it off. Having said that, because he's clearly prone to playing things off like he's not way into it, one could just as easily assume he intentionally didn't nail his radical move so as to prevent him from looking like even more of an ass. Oh scooter kid. What a tangled web you weave, when we first practice to deceive.




Ugh. The time is now 2:41. I've been writing for maybe 20 minutes. I'll have to get back to this.