Well, my first psychology writing assignment, actually my frist real psychology assignment ever, in college. So technically this is my first assignment in the major of my choice. Stream-of-conciousness. Like weird Faulkner stream-of-conciousness. That was weird. Hopefully my thoughts arent as weird as that character, well I can't even think of the book or the characters at the moment. So it didnt make that much of an impression upon me. I really am mad that I can't use my own computer for this assignment. Smoothies on keyboards don't make for easy using of all the keys. So here I am, in this girl across the hall from me's room, using her computer, trying to focus upon my thoughts and whatnot while people are playing loud music, opening boxes of poptarts, slapping me for writing about them in my first psychology assignment, etc. I can't work when its too loud. Of course the main problem with this whole stream-of-conciousness assignment is that now I am think about what I am thinking about. Take a minute on that one. Am I really writing what I am thinking about or what I want you, whoever is reading it, to read. Ok now to focus more. This is one of the weirdest assignments I've ever done. But I will confess, I've thought about writing a book in stream of conciousness style before. Faulkner, Joyce (he wrote that way didnt he?) and Russell. It can't be too hard, but to be honest when your thinking about the things your smelling and feeling and seeing, its not just whatever on the paper. ) Ahhh, the smell of poptarts wafting through the air. Definately chocolate, maybe s'more. It smells so warm, and inviting and delicious. It even makes the delicious stir-fry in Jester. i had stir fry today. The chicken was gross, the vegetables stale, almost a chore to chew it. So I did what all reasonable people would do, threw it away. Despite all the starving children throughout the world, etc. Money is going fast here. Faster than I thought, its going to be a pain to call and ask the parents for some more cash. But its not like it will be the first time, or even the last. Theres just some things in life that are expected, and one of them, is asking the 'rents for money. I hope my stream-of-conciousness writing is psuedo-interesting. I mean of course it won't be Faulkner, but after all who is. Would I want it to be too Faulkner? I don't think so, I would probably become more of a study in psych than a student. I wish I wouldnt have known anything about Faulkner before this assignment, because in the back of my head, I see his dashes, random . . things, and mine isnt looking like that. Oh well. My hand is beginning to hurt a bit from typing non-stop. Oh well, in the name of science! Okay, people here are starting to talk to me while Im trying to concentrate. Talking about dust, and AC. And yes, of course when you use AC, dust increases. Its a POSITIVE correleation. People are starting to laugh at me and call me Faulkner. All in good fun, yes I know. I'll show them. Haha. I want this girl to play Howie Day, and she wont. Stubborn thing. Music, its funny to think about, there are so many kinds. Wow. I know about. 100000 songs. I think its safe to assume that. Whenever you assume, though, it makes an ass out of you and me. My old psych teacher used to spit those sayings at us during senior year. She was a little off her rocker. She worked at Dorthea-Dix, but I think she used to be a patient there. Either way it was funny to watch her. Mrs. Cheek, the Cheekster, Shivers. Wow. She was wild. Coco the Gorilla. That's all the lady would talk about. It was like CoCo was her damn gorilla or something. Haha, wow. Everything related to Coco. Funny old woman. And she would knit, all day, during class during lunch. She was odd. But who's to say whats normal? Im starting to think of this one time, when my mom told me that 6% of the world was sane. First off, that means there are a heck of a lot of crazy people running around. But then you start to think, 6%, holy mackeral, which side am I on? And then you finally realize, you arent one of those 6% whose 'normal'. Either way, its fine. I love psychology. Its bad, like cool bad, not bad bad. I worked two summers ago with a research psychologist in the VA/Baylor labs at the Medical Center in Houston. I saw all kinds of interesting things. Brain-slicing and the likes. This doc that I worked with, Dr. Kunik, was a card. I went with him to rounds. Mr. Rogers. The man, about 86, called me Michelle Pfiffer, and claimed that birds and horses around his house told him to kill the Jews, and his wife. The thing was, his wife was dead. Either way, it was interesting. There were so many like that. It was wild. Then, came the multiple personalities. Not for me, but I learned about them in psych class and read 'Sybil' and then I was off. I read 'When Rabbit Howls'- whoa. How interesting though! Oh no, I only have 2 minutes left, I want to keep talking about multiples. Anyway, then I read 'I Never Promised You a Rose Garden', that threw me off. She was a little weird. But hey, don't forget about that 6%, we all are. This wasnt so bad after all. I didnt really focus on things I was smelling or feeling, well kinda. Just mainly what I was thinking, which was enough for me, and I mean after all, I'm no Faulkner, thank God.