I'm going to start this one off with a quote, so brace yourself.

"It is very easy to be as wise and good as your companions. But we stop where they stop."

Or so I read somewhere today, in a book that I really connected with. I don't agree completely with the author's generalization, but, in general, what he's saying is true.

I haven't had a philosophical conversation outside of class since my chat with The Astrologer more than a month ago, and most of my fellow students seem to be more interested in discussing comedian's routines, movies, and 'scoring' than with bizarre hypothetical scenarios and meaning-of-life discussions.

This was, of course, true in high school, but my group of friends back then was composed of debaters, geniuses, and slackers, and here I'm surrounded by musicians, who really don't have to be proficient in any area besides music.

There are still debaters and geniuses and slackers here, I'm sure, but none that I've met/not-offended. And my roomate, the person I talk to most, is more likely to quote Dennis Leary than to say anything I'd ever hear talking to someone from back home.

I'm whining, once again, but my point is that my immediate group here determines how active my brain is, and how intelligent I feel. Books, discussion classes, and a variety of antisocial activities can supplement stimulating conversation, but they don't fill the gap.

Luckily, it's not that big of deal; classes alone should begin to provide a good substitute, especially next term, and there's nothing wrong with my makeshift social circle as is.

Going back to the word 'scoring', I have to note, as always, that they changed the rules of that game without my knowledge. Back in grade school, and in middle school, 'scoring' was easy -it was kissing or something, wasn't it?- but by the time I'd hit high school, all the bases were changed and the rules of the game were different.

Someone is plotting against me, to do all this.

That's the great thing about having an archenemy, you can blame everything on them, tracing all misforture to some guy in a room with puppets, shouting "Dance, Puppets! Dance!" and laughing maniacally. Suddenly the world makes sense; you're no longer Job, wondering at God's random and sudden dislike for you.

Everyone should have an archenemy.

Well, I've got class early tomorrow, which will suck, so as much as I want to keep writing, I'm just gonna sleep now. Later.