Refracted Neurons

Do I believe that everyone in the world is a master of language, that you are waiting for the one word to send you falling up from the earth, gravity forgotten. Or do I believe that my words are less than the time it takes to form them, that my ink is wasted my pen is tired my paper put to poor use. I see you waiting, your head askew, your hand pausing in anticipation, its gravity forgotten. So I haven't written in a while and this poem is kind of crappy.  So sorry, have a pretty picture instead.

Well, I guess it's just part of puberty.  Some folks get zits, some folks have weird growth spurts, and some have giant robots pop out of their heads.  It's not really something to worry about, especially if the robot isn't evil.   If the robot is evil, then you have to start aking yourself some serious questions.  For example: Do I like being evil?  If not, how am I going to stop this robot from popping out of my head?  Is this robot a symptom of repressed anger?  Perhaps I need therapy? Anyway, watch FLCL to find out how some other folks have dealt with this problem. Buy FLCL