I really don't have a clue what to write about but I guess I'm supposed to think of what I'm feeling which is that my tank top's straps are really bugging me because they keep falling down and I keep looking at the pictures on my desk instead of the screen and what I am writing my refrigerator keeps making an annoying buzzing sound but I am concentrating on it anyway since I have to keep in touch with my senses. I keep staring at these pictures like I'm afraid to look at the screen or something it is a picture of me and my two friends from high school in our bathing suits acting like morons. there is also a lot of dust on my desk and on the picture frames and I really think I should clean them off, but I am pretty lazy so I doubt I will do that there is dust on everything around my computer!. the printer, the keyboard, the mouse pad, the phone and the pictures. my neck keeps itching; its probably from the dust or something. I can't believe I've only been typing for three minutes. this is going to be a very long paper, but this assignment is definitely a lot more fun than all the other ones in my other classes. uhoh the phone is ringing and I don't know whether to pick it up or not! I guess I can't because that would be breaking the rules! so I didn't and now it stopped and a really loud voice came on the answering machine of course the message wasn't for me I already had my really really good and nice phone calls for the day. I guess you could call me one of those losers that really misses home. I miss my boyfriend and my friends in the picture on my desk and my dad. and I miss my mom, but she's not at home, at least not technically because she's dead. this should be interesting to see where this thought leads because I have noticed in myself that whenever I think about my mom my brain won't let me and it starts thinking about something else like what I will wear tomorrow or something totally irrelevant. my mom was nice and I have a picture of her in my room but I can't really see it from where I am now because it's above my bed it makes me sad to think about her and when I do, like now, it makes me want to cry. I think that my brain realizes I will be too sad when I think about it so it won't let me. that is kind of nice of it, but sometimes when I just want to think about it, it won't let me. now my wrists are hurting from typing so fast for so long and my back is itching and it is getting very hot in here our room is always hot. my mom was always hot and we had to keep our house freezing cold nobody wanted to come to my house in the winter because it was so cold. it didn't matter this past winter, though, because she wasn't alive and I could turn the heat up if I wanted to because no one would yell at me for doing it. My dad would sometimes, but he doesn't really care. He'll yell at me to put on a sweater or something because I am costing him too much money when I can just put a sweater on but my dad is nice, not as nice as my mom, but he wasn't as understanding or shy as her. when she first died he was very understanding about everything but now he is the same as he always was there is a picture of us above my bed that I can see well it is of us dancing at my brother's wedding like ten years ago we were really happy then and we are now, too, I guess he just got married again so there was some tension there but its gone now for the most part, despite what he says. he is in Ireland now with his new wife because that is where she's from and her dad is dying so they went to see him. I liked her dad; he was a funny Irish guy he has cancer; it seems that everyone dies of cancer, although my mom didn't. my mom died because of an incompetent fire rescue ambulance squad and bad cop who will go to hell when he dies, hopefully. it bothers me that I am so bitter about him and the ambulance squad but I can't help thinking that my mom would still be alive if it weren't for them. now I only have five minutes left to go I am extremely itchy I am never this itchy in any other given twenty minutes, I guess its just the stress of actually having to think about my thoughts. the people outside are being so loud and annoying you think that if you were on the ninth floor you wouldn't hear stuff on the ground so far below, but you can. I keep going from staring at the pictures to staring at the screen; I'm afraid to look anywhere else I guess so now I am just sitting here listening to the people outside, enduring my itches, and thinking about how I've almost written a whole entire page on absolutely nothing relevant. I guess some parts were relevant because they made me pay attention to my surroundings and what my brain actually thinks I think it will be cool to go back and reread this. this was a fun assignment except my wrist really hurts now and my arms are sagging like how they tell you not to do on the anticarpel tunnel syndrome commercials and papers. but I only have one minute left now and I can't wait because my wrists are hurting and I don't think they can take much longer. I haven't typed in so long unless you consider email a valuable typing time which I don't because my emails are never a page and some long! ow. ow ow ow. those people are s