Turning back, she just laughs.

Sometimes I think I want to make a list of every misspoken word, every misspelling, every inverted phrase. You know, when you say you’re “stoing to the gore” instead of “going to the store”, or when you say “This song is so ransom” when you mean to say “random”. There’s got to be a science to it, some psychological something that goes on behind why we choose some words over others, why our brains are so freaking complex and why little glitches go off. I almost wonder sometimes if your brain is trying to tell you something subliminal, kind of like in dreams when you dream of doing school work because you’re not done processing it, or when you dream of that one guy who you always see around but you never really think of him like that until you dream it and then realize you’ve always sort of thought about him like that. These little things that your brain does, it’s so fascinating to me. Just now when I was Googling “visual poetry” and I ended up typing “sivual poetry”. What is that? Why did my fingers not do my brain’s bidding just then? I think there’s some kind of revolt going on under the radar in my brain these days, because these little mis-firings are happening more and more, and I think it’s my physical response to my brain yelling “I HATE FINALS!” and my fingers looking back and responding, “What? We can’t hear you over the noise of the typing! WHAT?” All systems are starting to reach critical limit, and we’re holding down the fort until Wednesday for the worst of it all. It’ll taper off until Friday when I turn in the last paper and then I’ll fly away, oh glory. You can consider this little blurb some pre-writing stress relieving. I’m going to look back on this in three weeks and call myself a wanker and then be over it and such, but for now I’m really not digging college right now. They say these are the best years of your life, but I don’t personally call the best years of my life the ones that take years OFF my life. Pppthbbb.