Alright, now that we have that formality out of the way...

I have a bit of a time-crunch dilemma on my hands, so no abstract meanderings for you today, my sweets. I need to find a hell of alot more subjects to test...approximately 20 more...and all by the middle of next week. This experiment is a long one: about an hour and thirty minutes on average. That doesn't bother me (gives me time to read Ender's Game and Hitchhiker's Guide again)..but what does is not getting this blasted thing done with before I fly from Cambrook to Oberlin, OH, give a presentation for Uncle Sam, then fly back to Cali on the same day (yeah, you can almost hear the shudder emanating from my epidermis).

On to other news: I think I had another hallucination last night. I was reading my book, and I could swear I saw a worm or some long, cylindrical thingy crawl under my futon. I looked under, but found nothing. I then started to think about whether or not I could still develop schizophrenia. That would just suck, wouldn't it? I'm in my relative prime (after all, if I were 23, I would be prime), imbued with a horrendously puritanical work-ethic, and I could very well have that neurological disorder to deal with...or hey, could be that I have psychotic disorder...only thing is, no delusions.

Ok, sure, my friends and mother convinced me when I was young that I could potentially be the next messianic figure for mankind, but I was young and they were weird (for them, folks)...and then there's that whole saving the world by reconciling religious faith and practice with science by showing it's physiologically and psychologically stabilizing...but besides those, no delusions.

I don't need another neurological disorder. The hell would I do with it? Drool into my shoe while strange floating fish offered me candy all day? Move into a ward so that I could get some more white pants and readily available access to drugs of all sorts by bribing and possibly giving sexual favors to the large black man who winked at me upon my dubious arrivals back to reality?

I could, but mentally and emotionally disturbed people deserve far more than that. We deserve to be milked for our uniquely oblong journeys outside of the box 'The Man' constructed to oppress the people and have them glut his...uh...corporate sweet-tooth (that's what the card says, don't ask me). Anyway, if I want mental and emotional abuse, I'd rather have it from a publisher or a team of writers than some overweight guard who thinks my ass needs more tone.

So I rambled. It's cathartic.

We kiss you too.

previous - next