her mind vomits random thoughts

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At its best the weefee connection on the bus is patchy. But just recently it has become even patchier. This means that my Good Intentions of popping online and being sociable are thwarted, and I find myself having to resort to opening a Word document and writing about it. In itself, this is odd. I don’t understand why I feel the need to even use the internet. I use Facebook and its annoying little child, Messenger. If I’m in the mood I post photos on Instagram. I shop at Amazon. I do surveys. As an aside I have just remembered a dream I was deep in the throes of when my alarm so horribly pestered me into Awake Mode this morning. It was the end of the world, with people becoming zombies, but not really zombies. I don’t actually have the ability to express what was happening, but Death was involved, and a pub. And these not-zombies could think and find us, and I’m giving up now because the images in my pretty little head are so disjointed and confusing. Suffice to say, my End of the World dreams are becoming frustratingly common. Perhaps I’m a psychic. A modern Nostradamus, if you will. Or maybe I just watch too much stuff on Netflix. Netflix is the new Facebook. Not in a social media sense {although it does generate discussion} but in the sense of it becoming the new Normal which everybody and his dad is required to subscribe to. How else will they know what’s going on in the world? Or perhaps it's more akin to Wikipedia; stuffed full to bursting with {often biased} knowledge and information which we didn’t even know we needed, but now have an insatiable need to know more about. Amazon's Vikings are calm in comparison. In fact, Amazon Prime Video thingy, whatever, is like Myspace. It exists, and people like it, but it's just a faithful little naïve and innocent puppy who looks up to – and will never be as good as – his big brother. And speaking of being a psychic, I once foretold the demise of Facebook because of my faithfulness to Myspace. Not-so psychic after all.