The Nobility of Horror
Mikey has encouraged me to start keeping a dream log. I am taking his advice as best I can. I am happy to report that last night I did not have a nightmare, but I did the night before. Last night I just dreamed about text. Just lines and lines of impenetrable text.
There is a time every morning, usually when I am about 3/4s of the way done with my venti macchiato, when I feel really good. I like my job and the people around me, and dancing is not out of the question.
Then I crash. Which is where I am right now.
I have very little respect for people with poor English skills. This is probably one of the meanest things about me. You might be a nobel prize winning scientist, but if you can't string a sentence together, you will always be a contemptible retard in my eyes. Every day, every goddamn day, I talk to people who are widely respect as community leaders who have no grasp of the language in spoken or written form, and I just freak the fuck out. The rules aren't that hard. They're just not. And I hate that people are dumb enought that they don't recognize that their leaders have fifth-grade reading levels. Jesus Christ. Read a fucking book.
I am sure that there are plenty of people on the other side of the ability spectrum, who want nothing to do with me because my math skills are negligible. And that's cool, bro. Just stop fucking up my language.
Finished my ghost story. Kind of. The first draft got sent off at least. So that's cool. I am waiting for edits. Will post the finished product.
Tired. Bored. Moving on.
There is a time every morning, usually when I am about 3/4s of the way done with my venti macchiato, when I feel really good. I like my job and the people around me, and dancing is not out of the question.
Then I crash. Which is where I am right now.
I have very little respect for people with poor English skills. This is probably one of the meanest things about me. You might be a nobel prize winning scientist, but if you can't string a sentence together, you will always be a contemptible retard in my eyes. Every day, every goddamn day, I talk to people who are widely respect as community leaders who have no grasp of the language in spoken or written form, and I just freak the fuck out. The rules aren't that hard. They're just not. And I hate that people are dumb enought that they don't recognize that their leaders have fifth-grade reading levels. Jesus Christ. Read a fucking book.
I am sure that there are plenty of people on the other side of the ability spectrum, who want nothing to do with me because my math skills are negligible. And that's cool, bro. Just stop fucking up my language.
Finished my ghost story. Kind of. The first draft got sent off at least. So that's cool. I am waiting for edits. Will post the finished product.
Tired. Bored. Moving on.