I was dead for 36 hours, which I hear is kind of dangerous. That behind me, I’m feeling… appeased.
When two people agree on things staying the same, you guarantee one fact: things will change. That’s not necessarily productive or comfortable. In any case we have to ‘learn to deal’. The emergency is over, and the undesirable ferrel child that is hormones is once again playing nicely with my brain, without stealing his Lego or pinning him to a Wendy house. Hurray.
Star Trek season 3 episode 19, as Spok places a mind-infiltrating hand upon Kirk’s sleeping brow, whispering compassionately, “forget!”, I find myself wanting a bro like Spok around.


Just playing at being Charlie Brown. Something that I thought was going really well has just sort of died on my shoes, and now I wonder quite where I’ve been for the last 4 months.
I hear your thoughts, and yes, this blog post is exactly as adolescently angsty as it sounds.
Somehow I’ve convinced myself that there is no life from here, which is patently ridiculous, but still: hmm. Just hmmm.
I’m reevaluating the way I’ve been thinking about everything for my recorded past, on ‘all cores’ of my brain. Near catatonic. Falling over more than I would like to be. Augh!
I believe Jim Carrey went mad on the internet. I’m staying away from twitter so I can be cringe-worthy in more than a few hundred characters.
Pray for me guys(s). Lol at delusions of readership.