Back to school...

Back to Kentucky. Back to the land of living stereotypes. Back to the most uneducated state in the US. Back to the state "Where Education Pays!" Back to Wal-Mart. Back to fat-crotched women on motorcarts buying whole milk and ground beef. Back to pickup trucks being driven at supersonically slow speeds. Back to smoking sections in fast food restaurants. Back to Randys. Back to Travises. Back to meth addicts and mullets. Back to feeling like I'm better than everybody else this state. Back to the joke of the United States. Back to inbreds. Back to people buying cigarettes by the carton. Back to people who rent Dolph Lundgren movies. Back to pimped-out Caprices and boat-cars that aren't worth pimping out.

Back to the empty, flat lands of no ambition. Back to the place where dreams don't leave the bowling alley, where children are born to bear more children. Back to the birthplace of the rat-tail. Back to Bush supporters. Back to Fundamentalists. Back to Mountain Dew's target demographic. Back to number 8 stickers on piece of shit vehicles. Back to wigger teenagers blasting old rap music from blown speakers. Back to the town of no goals and immediate settlement. Back to Waffle House. Back to fat girls in Mustangs. Back to ramshackle trailer parks. Back to people who come from counties; not towns. Back to those idiotic, unoriginal "Getting Lucky in Kentucky" t-shirts. Back to nothing worth talking about. Back to things I talk about.

Back to Western Kentucky University. Back to battling with conservative professors over my non-traditional work. Back to looking at the roman numeral IIII on all four sides of the clocktower. Back to reading the sports program slogan: Spread the Red! Back to walking past Diddle Arena. Diddle. Fucking Diddle. Back to hearing about the baskeball team losing to Northern Southwestern Arkansas Tech State A&M Wesleyan. Back to bottle-blonde sorority girls who wear too much makeup. Back to hyena-like giggles and big, tacky, canvas bags with funny-looking Greek letters. Back to fratboys in sandals and frayed shorts driving jeeps with no doors. Back to said douchebags throwing spirals in front of "the house" and listening to loud, Southern rap. Back to said jerkoffs hoping bottle-blondes will walk by and notice them and want to fuck them.

Back to zoning out in boring classes. Back to learning nothing I couldn't learn on wikipedia.org in a fraction of the time. Back to menial assignments for point values. Back to academia and the intellectual masturbation being taught -- expensive cocktail-party knowledge. Back to people trying to fulfill an image. Back to English majors that drink coffee and wear scarves in non-scarf weather. Back to said shitheads and their box-framed glasses and need to impress everybody with their extensive vocabulary and Criterion DVD collections. Back to English professors worshipping these cocksuckers. Back to these children and their clove cigarettes and deep appreciation for everything black and white. Back to the shitty school newspaper. Back to the supremely unfunny humor column written by the black girl who hangs out with the English majors. Back to her relying on nostalgia and apostrophes for laughs ("remember Double Dare? y'know what I'm talkin' 'bout?"). Back to me being an English major who hates coffee but loves the smell. Back to idiot jocks and rednecks and lazy people taking pointless Sociology classes. Back to them thinking it's a practical field of work. Back to them thinking they're smart for majoring in something that ends in "ogy." Back to Sociology being my second major because the film minor classes are barely ever offered.

Back to buying time before I have to support myself. Back to growing on my own. Learning on my own. Honing my craft. Back to skinny freshmen asking me how much I bench. Back to people being afraid of me. Back to intimidating people without knowing it. Back to lots of mediocre food. Back to hoping my roommate won't snore. Back to limited fridge space. Back to a world that is high school on a larger scale.

Back...