I can't recall the things in life That otherwise'd amuse Which might in fact be a good thing Who knows what I might choose I might decide to store away The things I learn in class Or maybe just the way to play Ole' Smash Bros. like a TAS Or what was said in convo, sure Or jokes I made in class Presenting for the prof to see In hopes that I would pass Or strats for solving werewolf crimes Or what I ate for lunch I don't know if I'd recall that I chose to drink fruit punch Or what about the things I read The articles and books About how Father Brown tracked down The criminals and crooks Would I remember all I did In set-in-stone timelines Or would the stories merge as one Like many creeping vines I don't have answers for today But what I think I'll see Regardless of these inward thoughts I'll still have memory
Today I was reminded of just how long the psychology of “just one more round” will really go when it comes to playing Smash. I’m very glad that tomorrow is the weekend because I would be rather upset if I needed to wake up for an 8:15 tomorrow.
Also, fun fact, I once met Ed Feulner in an elevator.