Linguistic Tetris Insomnia

If this blog gets posted, I will be amazed. The amount of time I spend writing blogs compared to the number of postings I’ve made -- it’s nothing short of embarrassing. I don’t know why that should be, given that I write and save files all day long, so one would think it would be no Herculean feat for me to upload a file after writing it, but it’s like the vortex that prevents hand-written letters from being mailed. I swear there’s an unnatural force that prevents me from addressing and mailing letters I’ve written. I have letters I wrote as long ago as high school that never saw the magic of a postage stamp, and it’s become rather an interesting collection.
Point being, I doubt you’ll read this. If you actually do, welcome to finals week.
My brain is utterly fried. There’s a fire in the fireplace and the music playing is the music that played soundtrack to my pledge to love Brian forever. It always derails me, and tonight derailment is a mercy. I keep involuntarily writing grammatical trees for these sentences I’m writing. it’s just like when my brain forces me to play Tetris involuntarily when I have insomnia, staring into the blackness continuing the mental activity (or repetition) that filled my day, same thing with tiny elements of Sudoku puzzles after spending an hour doing them.
Perhaps what I write keeps not getting posted because I read over it and decide nobody should read it, then I never work up the nerve to post it. I’ll bet that’s it. But diagram that sentence, man! Holy smokes! A subordinate clause using a relativizing pronoun, a transitive idiomatic phrase with an oblique locative and a complement clause and can’t o this anymore. I know that’s all wrong and I can’t get my brain straight. I just finished 7 hours of writing a final for my Morphology and Syntax class. It’s totally mad, but honestly it’s a rush. Being a 9 to 5 professional for five years got a tad slow; this is stressful, challenging -- and I’m being asked to describe like why categories should be defined if languages’ most universal trait is their tendency to violate their own rules.
Man, my sentences are long. I try to stck short ones in every now and again so your brain doesn’t have to get all convoluted just like mine is, but I can’t help it -- my sentences are just always long. I have to post this right now or I’m going to get unsatisfied with its quality and never put it up. The thing is that I have this poetry I’ve written in the bus over the semester, a set of poetry about stress and dissolution that I keep trying to type up and post on here, but I keep getting distracted. I have my puppy, my fire, my man in California, and the rest of the night to play Sudoku and eat cookies.
This picture is called Introspection, just in case some Colorado summer could brighten your day. God knows it could brighten mine.