spuriousness

Lets make a glass of water upon a table academic. First and foremost it is important to recognize that the example I give is a singular one in time. The glass was placed on this table made of wood. It was filled just over half way. When I looked at the glass that was just over half-way filled at exactly 28 degrees from center, there appeared a prism. The prism appeared in the middle of the glass that was half-way filled. It turned gently in a clockwise motion that reflected remarkable colors. I became mesmerized by the sight and I thought to myself, "na, those were regular, organic mushrooms." Needless to say, the prism began to spin faster and faster within the glass of water and I took notes the whole way through. A fast moving breeze swept through the room like a racoon in the night. My hair was flying about and the prism moved faster and faster. Suddenly, and without warning there appeared before me a giant pack of Starbursts and a hotdog stand with a soda fountain attached to a shetland pony. I thought, "Hey man, just in time, I am famished and di-a-rhea is one of my favorite things!" I ate and began wondering what happened to the glass with water in it filled just over half-way. Then I remembered, I spilled it reaching for the damn starbursts and it was broken all over the floor. So I went to the cabinet and grabbed another glass and filled it just under half-way. Except this time i filled the glass with Jack Daniels. I figure if I spill this one I will make sure I spill it in my mouth. In this little wash, is it possible that the first glass of water was a representation of my past when I was sucked under by a vicious tide that damn near killed me? Did I hate the glass the water was contained in and used it to represent my hatred for people who take credit for others' ideas? Is my bad spelling an indication of a childhood free from water in general? If so, why? Was my mother evil? Did my father try to drown her as I was forced to watch? You see, there is no such thing as a simple glass of water on a table. There is always a story that surrounds it. There is meaning in even the smallest of things; and it is through these things that academics are born. It is also representative of what it feels like to be in a constant state of spuriousness, discomfort, and instability.