14 Days of Summer

"fourteen days of summer" has a special meaning to my round receptors of incredulous dexterity. Maybe it's because I can't find myself spending some time on the sandy beaches of ... well of any place really. It could be the ocean (pretty darn far away, by car) or it could be by the lake M (eh, that's M for Michigan; of course it could be S for Superior, but I'm not canadian, not that's anything wrong with that all together).

My only summer break was encrypted with heartaches and everlasting never-ending rain. Now, my school is literally killing me. Thank moses for my mac, for I would not have survived thus far and watched my sanity break into thousand pieces.

Who’s moses, you ask? Don’t really know. I hear people speak of this dude who ... well, I pretty much forgot who did what. [...]Of course i know who El-Mosesso is! An old man. Loved to share his love to others. Sacrificed a lot. Died young. The truth is, I am re-teaching my brain to stop hinting that God is god because we always refer to it, you know, for God's sake. It's just me, doing things, trying to see how does it sound if I substitute known names in known expressions with totally different things. The funny thing is, the brain stumbles. It's my way of keeping it from running to a complete stop. You? How do you keep your mind active, besides reading this little note?