Responding, Poignantly...

I replied to a question beset on a "Libran Group" on MySpace to the question, "What is your most annoying Libran trait [as a Libran]?" with this:

My memory problem, being so far set in that a 80-year-old's gelatinous medula may rival my own at certain times, along with my severe OCD of indecisiveness <=it's hell on wheels, traversing hinter me wherever I go, affecting (or, rather, NOT affecting) my choice of ice cream, clothes, fajitas, etc...well, I guess it's mostly food...even today, I had an argument with myself whether I wanted the taboule salad on top of romaine or not - mom decided = yes.

I'm not exactly sure where the word "poignantly" came from as I began typing a title, seeing as how it is one of the rarest words I use, even in my baroque-ish writing; but, I assume it came from the same exact place as...fuck. Remember up there (points ^) where I said about my memory? Well...the word I was about to say is now lost in my sea of neurons, and may well wash ashore before the conclusion of this post.

The dreams have started - and NO I'm not talking about those dreams...I mean my dreams of being on an airplane, over the ocean, on my way to Deutschland, which shall come to cognizant fruition in approximately dreiundzwanzig Tage, on July 6th. Oh yes, it IS that close. My departure will be the catalyst of what I am deeming the 51-Days-of-Fun-and-Freedom-from-American-Oppression, or 51DFFAM <=stick that in your meth pipe and smoke it, you Bradford-County fuck!