This is your brain. And this is your brain on DRUGS.
So the first day of classes in the new semester could be classified as a moderate catastrophe, opening with my laptop taking a sudden suicidal leap off of my desk at eight o'clock this morning. (Miraculously, it seems to have suffered no actual damage from the incident, which is both fortunate, and totally outside my realm of usual luck.) The actual classes themselves were nondescript and unremarkable, other than for the odd sense of glum dread they instilled in me, as well as a subsequent flare-up of my anxiety-induced hypochondria, which prompted me to buy and then take aspirin for the heart attack I wasn't having. And for those of you playing at home, no, I'm not actually kidding at all.
Also, there are two football players in my Public Speaking lab. As opposed to being enamored by them, I find myself mildly repulsed. I may revert to said enamorment (not a word, but should be)if either of them prove capable of stringing a coherent and grammatically competent sentence together at some point in the semester. I'm not holding my breath, though.
In further news, tonight I was looking through old stories and such of mine, and came across a totally forgotten little snippet, that apparently was written in early August. It sort of made me giggle, so I'm sharing it with you.
On a bright and sunny afternoon in early August, God, having lost his argument with the High Council for the third time about the acceptability of "Totally Authentic Angel-Hair Pasta" (which was repeatedly deemed unseemly and mildly cannibalistic, despite it being both tasty and calorie-free), called it quits for a bit and hopped a train to California, ending up in L.A. as a matter of happenstance. The Council panicked for an hour or so, wondering about the possibility of subsequent pandemics and/or excessive traffic jams in the big cities, or worse, realization from the general Mortal Population that God had done a bunk. But people just kept dying like they always had, and no one really noticed the difference.
After a while, the High Council realized their biggest problem would actually be the alarm caused by God’s reappearance in Los Angeles after decades of total absence.
'Night.
Also, there are two football players in my Public Speaking lab. As opposed to being enamored by them, I find myself mildly repulsed. I may revert to said enamorment (not a word, but should be)if either of them prove capable of stringing a coherent and grammatically competent sentence together at some point in the semester. I'm not holding my breath, though.
In further news, tonight I was looking through old stories and such of mine, and came across a totally forgotten little snippet, that apparently was written in early August. It sort of made me giggle, so I'm sharing it with you.
On a bright and sunny afternoon in early August, God, having lost his argument with the High Council for the third time about the acceptability of "Totally Authentic Angel-Hair Pasta" (which was repeatedly deemed unseemly and mildly cannibalistic, despite it being both tasty and calorie-free), called it quits for a bit and hopped a train to California, ending up in L.A. as a matter of happenstance. The Council panicked for an hour or so, wondering about the possibility of subsequent pandemics and/or excessive traffic jams in the big cities, or worse, realization from the general Mortal Population that God had done a bunk. But people just kept dying like they always had, and no one really noticed the difference.
After a while, the High Council realized their biggest problem would actually be the alarm caused by God’s reappearance in Los Angeles after decades of total absence.
'Night.