Nobody enrolls. You get blindsided on the road to Damascus or seduced by a burning bush. It's a hands-on application of all those words in all those books, at least the ones that you can remember. You take your lumps from time to time, because you're living this thing as if your life depended on it, and nobody drops out, unless they want to have it out with Chancellor Burning Bush first. It's no fun following orders, following rules and regulations, maybe hoping you can squeeze every inch out of all the gray areas you find, but it's a matter of life and death, if you believe in all those words in all those books, having placed your life and limb in a pair of truly invisible hands.

The campus and the course materials are one in the same: everything, everyone, your memories, dreams, and desires. But sometimes the lack of resemblance to actual classrooms and textbooks makes you forget that you're enrolled. Sometimes learning comes by fucking up, and fucking up often comes when you forget that you're not in charge of the curriculum.

And then there's that graduation thing. You study for years and years, but you only get one report card, and one pass/fail grade. In the meantime, you're left to yourself to judge whether or not you're making progress.

And the football team sucks.

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