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Fucked Up College Kids File 525
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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This is your brain on life
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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.
TuxedoMask@Cyberdude.com
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