The Washer Lair

of Nano Knight and The Ninja

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Psychology Class: What was she really talking about?
The other day we did an exercise in my Psych 101 Class.

It's one of the few non cooking classes that I take and I greatly enjoy it, the one thing i dislike about it however, are the other students in my class.

But i'll get to that later on in this story.

You are getting very relaxed, and a bit sleepy. You feel your eyes starting to droop. But you can not fall asleep.

Picture a walkway up to a house. Slowly go up that walkway, looking up and down that house?

Does it have windows? What color is the door?

You come up to that door, but you don't enter it yet.

You slowly walk around the house, taking in details.

You find yourself back at the beginning of the house. You go up to the door and open it.

What does the room look like? What is in your house?

You walk into the next room and it's your favorite room in the house.

But then you see another door, this one is hidden.

It's where you hide your deepest, darkest secret.

You open the door and follow it down into a room.

You look around the room and study it carefully. You study that deep dark secret.

Then you turn around and you leave that room. You shut the door behind you.

you go out of your favorite room and out the front door.

You walk down that walkway.

You can feel yourself waking up.

That's the short version of what happened that class period. There was more you feel sleepy, you feel awake, but the rest i remember.

Then the Prof. told us to write down everything we could remember about that house and not to write our name on it.

Then we would read others and say what we thought it meant.

Mine went something like this.

I see a tall hill, with a flight of worn stairs leading towards an imposing structure.

Not quite a mansion, but larger than a normal house. It's of grey stone, with a red roof and a red door.

The vegetation is sparse but green, and everything is well groomed and trimmed. There are only four bay windows on the front of the house and none on the sides, even though there are obviously many more rooms than that in this house.

There is a single back door next to a modest vegetable garden and a single rose bush, that hasn't been very well cared for.

I get back to the red door and open it and come to a very large room.

It is furnished in dark wood and blue accents. Everything has a fine layer of dust upon it and some of the tables are covered in drop clothes.

The floor is made of dark stone, and it is only dimly lit by two of the bay windows.

I leave this room and come into a library. It is filled to the brim with every book imaginable. stacks here and there, everything having an air of faint chaos to it, but not disgustingly so.

There is a warm fire lit in a small fireplace, and a seat near it that is well worn and soft looking of black velvet.

Then i turn away and i see a door that was hidden in the shadows before. It's made of a twisted brown wood, covered in grime and dirt.

I open it cautiously and go down a flight of rickety stairs.

I come to another room.

It is covered in a sort of black goo-liquid, and it seems to be pulsing with a life of its own.

It seems to grow as i get closer and in the middle of the room, resting on a pedestal of the goo lay a silver knife, glowing faintly. The goo seems to be sucking in this light, making it seem dark and light in this room all at once.

Then i leave that room. I go up the stair and back to the library, and into the front room and back outside, and i leave that house behind.

So, as you can see, i put a lot of effort into what i saw and thought.

The only two comments i got were.

"The person that wrote this reads a lot of Gothic literature and likes it."


"I don't know."

That was it.

There are thirty people in that class and it lasts for two hours.

I swear I'm surrounded by morons who don't actually read the homework.

Freud, who we were studying, would have hung his head in shame if he's been to my class.

I gave tons of description and got generic.

Also, not a big Gothic literature fan. So wrong on that count, though i did like Poe when we read him in class.

More of a happy ending, Jane Austen type. And yes, i know how gay that makes me sound.

But i can fix cars and write yaoi!

My boyfriend approves and other people should do the homework.

Thirty people.

Two lame responses.

And sadly, i believe that the second one made up most of what the class said.

Sometimes I think idiocracy really is where we are headed.

Freud, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and sometimes a moron is just a moron.

God bless the american college student, may you take classes and immediately forget what it was that you just learned.


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