the grashopper child

When I was in high school I detested math like a cat detests water. If I don not like something I will not do it, well or poorly or otherwise, it simply wont be done. I only do things that interest me, always have and always will. My poor teacher, god bless him, took me aside and said "alex you are failing math. You are not stupid, why not apply yourself?" I responded, "mr. B. I give not a fig for math, nay, not only do I not give a fig, I dont give the square root of a fig. I am an artist and that is how I will live and die." At the same time I had notebooks full of my geometric studies of raphael and leonardo I did not bother to show him. Geometry was the only child of math I cared for, all else was a bastard gimp child. Calculus would not help me understand the renaissance. Algebra was not the ink the ancients dipped their pen in before they set forth to lay down the sacred principles of gnomic creation. I bid my math teacher farewell, showed up drunk for the final and drew grasshoopers across the scantron sheets, thus confusing the computer into giving me a 36. I was happy with a 36 because 3 and six add to nine. Somewhere down the hall my bio regents was returned with a 98. I only care about things that interest me. I staked that claim at 11 and it has served me well. Know thyself.