Here's to the Sun Rising Tomorrow Morning

Have you ever picked up a glass of juice, taken a big ol' swig only to realize at the first gulp that it isn't juice, but actually milk? And you know how utterly confusing that is, where your brain is simultaneously saying "what the hell is wrong with this juice?" and "wait, this isn't juice," yet refuses to come to the obvious conclusion and rather, your brain deduces and tells the rest of the body, "this is the worst frigging juice we have ever tasted." And you nearly spit it out. And then you look down into the glass and see the white, foamy milk and your eyes send an impulse back to your brain, chiding: "you dumbass, it's the worst juice because it's not even juice -- it's milk" and your tastebuds chime in to support the optic nerve saying, "dude, we tried to tell you it wasn't milk, that the hell is wrong with you?" And there's almost a mutiny on board until the brain gets pissed off and says "oh yeah? Well the Spanish Armada was defeated in 1588, pi is 3.14, and Molly Bloom's soliloquy at the end of Ulysses is eight looooong sentences with no punctuation and represents Penelope from The Odyssey." And then the rest of the body is shamed and the king is once again entrenched in power, and the brain tells the arm to lift the glass back up and the mouth to drink the milk because the brain fucking told them to, is why.

In other words, you know when you're like, "HUH?"

It was like that when I went here and saw how different it was.