They've strongly suggested that all of us should start keeping a journal while undergoing training. I can't say that I see much point in it; they're already digging through my thoughts and memories before scrambling my brain and rearrange every other facet of my life. I don't imagine they'll find anything new in this journal that they haven't already encountered while mucking around with my synapses and thought processes.
They claim that this journal will be an instructional tool, one to help gain insight and understanding into the changes that we can expect to start seeing. Yeah, right. After two weeks of testing and preparation, how many different ways do they think that a person can come up with to say that my head hurts? And while I haven't had the inclination to compare notes with the rest of my class, judging by the expressions and frequent trips to the water dispenser, I'd say I'm not the only one.
How many hours have I heard them talking about what they're going to do, and explaining how they're going to do it? How many forms have I filled out? How many screenings have I been subjected to over the last two weeks?
Tomorrow is the so-called big day. Officially, everything about the procedure is perfectly safe; one of the best medical teams in the world will be standing by to assist, if needed. So, if the procedure is as safe as claimed, then why do they feel the need to have a medical team standing by? And why one of the best in the world?