popping

My mode of thinking is but one word: popcorn. I can begin to think deeply about one thing, yet literally the next second, another thought comes to mind.

POP! another one.

anot..POP!...her

I can't seem to calm myself from my sporadic thoughts.

I like to dwell on each thought as long as my mind wills. A thought is lucky to survive twenty seconds, unless I really catch my attention. At night my thoughts settle; they stall my reality for a prolonged amount of time...I am simply warped into the place and time where my thoughts take me, and I continue thinking until I arrive at a restful sleep and reluctantly awake. When I am worried about something, usually my thoughts take me there. If I am elated, my mind floats into that wonderland. I would much rather be elated.

John Mayor's lyrics take me to that state of blissful meditation, no matter what time of day.

I am trying to figure myself out. There are many assumptions and theories bouncing in my brain and this point, and writing is simply making me think more about all of it.

My roommate fell asleep working on a paper, so I laid on her pillow, merely inches from her face, until she woke up. She completely freaked. Right now she is doing jumping jacks to wake up...oh...now push-ups. Now we are trying to think of the spanish word for spoon, and I feel so pathetic because I have three years of high school Spanish class behind me, and I cannot think of how to say "spoon". Cuchara. That's it.