Agree with stephen with everything he said. I feel that the off topic conversations we have in this class, bring my level of intelligence to a higher standard. I feel that i could give so much more to class everyday, however i fell that if i did that, i would be stealing education from my classmates. If i graded myself based on my personal perception of my effort in this class, i would give myself an A. If i graded myself based on what my classmates felt about my participation...well...my parents wouldn't be pleased.

Introduction to my E.C. story--
Graffiti on a desk. It’s a symphony of cacophony. Completely offensive. Grotesque, and unforgivably immature. However, it isn't the fact that some brute took the time to carve the message into the cheap wood; it was every person who sat there after the brute, and then left his or her mark. It is the vision of countless others, sitting here before him, tracing the message with their personifying pencil lead, bringing the words to life that disgusted him. It screams its offense to the people who actually paid any attention to anything, who knew little things such as graffiti; mean a thousand fold more than anything that they believed. More than the bull shit spewing out of the little Italian man sitting in his desk's chair, talking as if his word was regal. He himself being God saw this infidel sitting in front of him, soiling the air with his filth, beneath him.
Dave laughed. Hard, interrupting God's great speech of why Dave shouldn't shout out the names of followers found to be "insufferable", and why they needed to be killed. He laughed, because he found he could do nothing. He laughed, because if he didn't, he would kill the man in front of him. He would kill Mr. God, and with God's blood, wash out the unholy soul that now whispered to him. The graffiti that screamed at him, filing his eardrums down to nothing but a bloody canal. He wanted it gone, and there was only one thing that could wash away an Unholy soul, and its disgusting music; Holy blood. Dave knew what to do, and acted without hesitation.
The stapler was one of the first things Dave noticed in the room. Easy enough to spot, with God's holy calligraphy inscribed into it with the holy message being, "VIGILANCE IS THE KEY TO SUCCESS".
"Well, God," he said as soon he composed himself, "what do you say we play staples?”, and before God's eyes could bulge, before his face turn red at having his name used in vain, Dave grabbed the stapler. He drove the first object of God's destruction into the pupil of his holiness’s eye. The feeling of the eye going back into its owners socket gave Dave a sense of fulfillment. He marveled in it, like how he used to when Crack gave his mind peace. However, drugs could never top this; ever.
Unfortunately, its similarities to papa roach's personal favorite included a quick high, and an astronomical downer. So, like a drug addict, he continued his grizzly work, ignoring God's holy pleads to stop, to just let him be, how he was sorry, and didn't want to die. Dave laughed at the irony. He didn’t want to die, yet he let millions die each and every day. How he let his followers who in his name, killed Ezekiel. Funny.
After injecting a staple into God's left temple, he quit fidgeting. Dave's disappointment filled the air, mixing with the filth he brought in, and the dark undertones of the cacophony. Dave was sad that he couldn't continue. Sad that his vengeance was over quicker than he had hoped. “God hadn’t suffered enough”, Dave’s mind said aloud. He sighed, and walked over to the throne his holiness had moments ago been occupying. He grabbed the holy garments, and soaked them in God’s blood. It burned him when he touched it, but he wanted to get rid of the wretchedness coming from the graffiti on the desk.
He walked over to the table, a relieved smile on his face. Finally, this spirit, will be set free, and then I can continue, he thought as he slowly wiped holy blood onto the crime set upon the desk. He listened hard, and heard a slow sizzle, like a broken air conditioner trying its best to work in god's heaven. The Spirit then howled, howled it anguish for being removed from its new home, and being burned with the blood of The Holy one. Dave smiled. "This is how I'll extract my vengeance of Ezekiel. I will destroy God's followers, and His Kingdom. This place will fall" he monologues to himself.
David walked out the door, in his Holiness's blood. He left the body as it is. It was a warning to all followers of the Holy one. Christianity's God is mortal, and Ezekiel's vengeance will carried out. His smile was never bigger, as he walked out of his principal’s office.