Speech! Speech! Speech!

What does it take to motivate somebody with words? Because I can say to you, "go save Africa" but that's hardly inspirational and you'll most likely just continue watching the Cricket match on the telly instead of saving Africa.

But, if I say to you, "go save Africa" and I tell you a couple heart wrenching stories about sick children, along with a couple reflective rhetorical questions and a "shame on you" or two thrown in there, then BOOM! you are on the next flight to Zimbabwe with nothing more than a canteen full of water and a heart full of love.

But words can be dangerous too. The old adage, Sticks and Stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me is a lie that was generated by Bullies so they wouldn't have to feel bad about saying mean things. I mean sure, maybe I wasn't physically wounded by that insult, but if you were to open me up you would probably find a bunch of dead butterflies. (the butterflies obviously representing happiness)

So i have written an inspirational speech, and I hope to one day give it to a crowd of thousands. Hopefully they will laugh, and then cry, and then be like, "that was awesome." People will then say for years afterwards, "that was a wonderful speech he should give another one" and "whatever happened to that fellow who gave the best speech ever?" and they will never find out because I will be living under a different name, in the English country side, raising chickens and wearing finely knit sweaters while composing a Symphony based on the life of Abraham Lincoln. My friend, Edgar, from London, will visit and we shall sit in the study and discuss all manners of things, from Philosophy to how his Aunt's bicycle shop is doing. And then one day I will be tending the spice garden outside of my cottage and a lovely young lady will walk by and I will say, "I once gave the best speech ever" and she will say, "Marry me." and I will. And we will have three children, Emeline, Linus, and Delia. All my chickens will die in an unexpected blizzard and we will have no income, but then my lovely wife will convince me to send my numerous poems to a publisher who will then publish them and thereby put food on my families table. Unfortunately Delia will develop a rare disease that can only be treated in America. I of course, loving my child, will return to America so she would be able to recieve treatment. Eventually I would be recognized as the awesome speech giver and will have to leave as soon as Delia gets better. I will spend the rest of my life writing Jeff Facer's biography and eventually passing away at the wonderful age of 82.

This is what I think about in Math class. As opposed to, well, Math.