I really hate not being able to blog, so I'm sitting upstairs with the periodicals in Waterfield writing this in my ENG221 notebook. On my way back to this secluded corner I'm sitting in, I stopped by the newspaper shelf. I spent something like ten minutes just looking at the past month and a half's front pages of The Gleaner. Now I have soy ink up to my elbows. I miss home. Not really in a homesick sort of way, but more like having the strange realization that life at home still goes on without me. I guess I think there is this little sphere that kinda follows me wherever I go and that's all there is to the world. But no, there is a little place called home that still exists, and I miss it. I love it. It's really weird. When I think about being home, I think about going to Henderson. And when I think about going to Henderson, I think about WalMart. Maybe it's because it's one of the few old-school, completely un-super WalMarts still in existence. But by the time I graduate (six, seven years from now), there'll be a Super WalMart out on 60. People in Henderson are fighting like mad to keep that thing from moving in. Why?, I ask myself. Super WalMart is the stuff. But then again, Hendo's regular WalMart has to be the coolest of the uncool. I will indeed miss it. I might shed a tear.
So in my old age, I've learned that I space out a lot. Like remember when we were kids (because we aren't still?) and you're all looking at somebody and they ask you if you have a staring problem? Yeah, well, I think I do. Seriously. I have these little seizures, as Val calls them, all the time. It's particularly bad when I'm walking to and from class by myself. I was walking between Fine Arts and Oakley [insert universal sign for that sidewalk], and Rosemary broke me out of my gaze to say hi. I don't even want to know what retarded look I had going on my face.
Okay, I would like to mention how incredibly ridiculous I am. As I am hand-writing this, I'm going back and editing it, with little arrows and brackets and all. I should probably stop before I hurt myself. But before I do, I want to comment on how weird I am about being prophetic. That's not really what it is, I guess, but I experience "paranormal coincidences" all the time. What provoked this was me noticing the American Speech-Language-Hearing Association's Journal. Just yesterday I heard of ASHA, as it is called for short, for the first time as Lesil was explaining her CDI research project to Ashley. Now, how weird is it that of all the journals in this library, I chose to sit directly infront of that one? Hmm, what are some of my other examples? I have this really creepy thing where I think about people less that thirty seconds before I see them. In the past couple days I've done that with "Amy Ramage," JT Fuhrmann, Lauren B., and Bo. That's a strange assortment of people. THEN, there's the whole Atticus/Finch/Atticus Finch phenomena that is just too confusing to explain. See, when I think about these things, I don't realize that they are going to come to pass until they do, so I can't prove anything. But it's some scary crap. I've always done it, but it's been happening A LOT this week. Hmm. Wonder what that means?
Anyway, I've been sitting here half writing and half staring off into space, and now it's time to go to Spanish. Maybe I'll find out how I did on that test.
[PS - No. I didn't get my test back. It'll be Monday.]
[PPS - I saw Kenny Cat "walking" today. He was putting his Celebrity Limited Edition in the back of his van. I may have been earning me some hell points because I do think he needs that thing.]