Slipping into the month of my birth with a strange feeling heart. Spent the last night of July engrossed in nightmares and strange dreams and guilt fueled visions. Woke into August and muttered “rabbit rabbit” to myself in a sleep thick voice. And for some reason, completely unrelated, it brought to mind a high school memory, from nearly 10 years ago. In one of my English classes we had to write a two to three page “persuasive essay” about a topic of our choice. I was a Senior and sick to death of all of it. I thought to make mockery of the whole process while simultaneously fulfilling the assignment by writing it about the most ridiculous thing I could think of. I wrote it about spittoons, and argued that a spittoon should be placed in every history classroom, because they are culturally valuable historical artifacts that can help kids learn about history, and they would serve as highly useful liquid waste management device. I shit you not, I wrote that essay. I thought it was pretty obvious that I was not serious. I literally titled it “Pppt…Ding!” And yet, I either wrote it *so well*, or the five students who peer-reviewed it were so fucking stupid, that every single one of them thought I was serious, and at least three of them were fucking convinced that it was a good idea. I couldn’t believe it. I was blown away. (And a bit disappointed that my clever satire was so unappreciated in its time) My teacher at least knew that I was fucking around, she was equal parts annoyed and impressed, and had to give me full credit because I technically completed all the requirements. I still have a copy of that essay in my google docs, I just read it, it’s pretty amazing. Good job teenage me, good job.