One, I really like the sound of shattering glass. Not that overused sound on TV shows, but the actual live sound of glass breaking on tile, or concrete, or whatever.
Two, I feel gigantic sometimes, and I now attribute that to my five-year old personality. I guess theres a little guy in there thats still going strong, and he's got too big of a body. Just typing it out makes me feel like I am maturing way too quickly. Peter Pan syndrome, or Big syndrome, if you know that movie.
15. You have a brain tumor. Though there is no discomfort at the moment, this tumor would unquestionably kill you in six months. However, your life can (and will) be saved by an operation; the only downside is that there will be a brutal incision to your frontal lobe. After the surgery, you will be significantly less intelligent. You will still be a fully functioning adult, but you will be less logical, you will have a terrible memory, and you will have little ability to understand complex concepts or difficult ideas. The surgery is in two weeks.
How do you spend the next fourteen days?
15. My first instinct is that I would write. I would probably enjoy other people's company when I lose intellect and I would probably find it easier to enjoy sex and the like (based on a previous blog post). And who said I was accepting this surgery? I guess Chuck assumes living a life as an idiot is better than no life at all? I believe I would be very frustrated at trying to think after the surgery and wouldn't want to live on like that anyway. If I was an english professor (my intended profession), how could I find work? Theres no way. I'd probably write a little guide - instructions on how to live my life for dummies. This still wouldn't work for my career though. It would also depend on who I lived with and if they could stand living with a dumber me. I would probably spend the next fourteen days doing the regular crap I already do. I guess I could still play drums after the surgery, so not all is lost.
I will spend the next fourteen days wondering deviously how I will avoid my operation. The saying "Ignorance is Bliss" does not apply to me. A horrible life lived long would be worse then a great one lived short. Granted, I would barely know my brain is functioning worse, but I'd hate to see what it would do to the people around me. Just take some Penicilan, go see the Eiffel Tower, and hope for the best.
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