I write this while on an old and rusty bus rattling its way across Kottawa's sleepy backwaters on a warm Sunday morning. The slight lump I feel in my throat seems to indicate an impending case of sore throat. This bus is moving at a commendable rate for a 336, or maybe writing this is way more fun than it seems. Bah time, forget about it. Being in a state of time warp-y consciousness a few too many times seems to have permanently altered my body clock.
Graduation was a swift affair. The "kids" were ruthlessly herded into an assembly line to be paraded, awarded and photographed. Men of greatness on the quest seeking maximum efficiency have no time to ponder such trivial things like human dignity.
And of such nature is the adventure that awaits me today. It might sound dead simple to the gullible man, but handing in a robe and collecting a transcript is not a task of O(1) complexity.
(Sorry if none of this makes any sense, by the way)