and i ran out of space in the title textbox so i continue my rant-ness in the notes section here below the "more important" text. i am spinning around in a big room but it's not a very open room, it's got junk all over and i am not exactly graceful in my dancing feet - they're more like falling-over-feet - and i kind of waltz a bit and then sit down on a rotten chunk of wood that used to be a bench and i pick up one of those toys from my childhood with the colored plastic rings that stack up nicely, and i get sad because it's all gone and i can't get it back, and the only way to have anything like it is to have kids and then they will have that childhood, but i never will, because i used up the time and i am out of that period of life now, ticked it off the list, cut it right out of the itinerary, and now is a time for run-on sentences just like in grade seven and getting off topic just like always and a time for being sad about losing time and a time to say "to hell with time" but even if i did it would still be heard through the incessant clocks ticking our lives away and i would be sad even longer than i wanted to be.