Unincredibly non-random?
Thoughts perculate through my brain and drain onto the floor in such a way that I am so unbearably able to retain anything. So many interesting topics spring to the forefront of my mind throughout the day, but all too soon they dribble away. If this is what's happening to my normal everyday thoughts, what's happening to the creative ones? And will my head explode from the incalculable amounts of molecular biology/analytical techniques/protein structure information that is being fed to me?
There is something absolutely irresistible about question marks. Their service to the curious aside, they are most definitely adorable. Add a question mark to your sentence and the context changes so dramatically, you can barely lay recognition to it from its previous form! Even that little upward lilt we get in our voices at the end of a question is intriguing and disarming. And a question mark also makes things far more difficult than before. The simple statement "You have a girlfriend," metamorphizes drastically to "You have a girlfriend?" with just that little addition. What was bland has suddenly become intriguing. The questioner is evincing disbelief, curiosity, a blatant disregard for your possible wish for privacy, and maybe a little awe. A question mark is a powerful thing.
My ability for concentration was nil today, as I spent a lot of time reminiscing over past events and how wonderful they had been. A lot of the memories took place in the dark, but the details are still crystal clear. Nostalgia. Le sigh. Fortunately, I didn't miss much, as the various people I was supposed to be listening to had very little of value to say. Of course, I believe this is true of many people I subject my auditory nerve endings to.
I know all the reasons to stop trying. It's your job to come up with the reasons not to.
A little bit of pussy in the lap is a great thing. A lot of pussy in the lap mixed with biting is irritating.
As long as I'm talking about things that amuse me, I love to be creepy. Y'know what I mean. The inappropriate comments made at the most delicious times. Comments that should be made in neither polite nor impolite company. Touching--touching without asking--touching without asking and saying "I like your hair" with that soft nasal voice of a man who hasn't yet moved out of his parent's basement. Creepiness rates high at the top of what I absolutely love. Now if I just had some friends...and lived elsewhere besides a basement.
Speaking of parents, the one who gave me my lovely X chromosome decided that ramming into a car and then a tree was a good idea this past weekend. Okay, so it wasn't really her fault, but I'll be damned if it doesn't seem that she did it just to worry me. If not for my charming sister, I might not even be informed as of yet. Luckily, the worst of the damage was taken by the car, which will never take us on a trip to Meijer again. A broken collarbone and two weeks of bed(chair)rest is what my mother earned, but she is as perky and sardonic as ever. Apparently, it takes more than destroying her only mode of transportation and part of her neck to get my maternal unit down. I need to test this, perchance?
I call my paternal unit "Father-Type-Figure", rather than the normal "Dad". The reasons are multi-varied and not appropriate for internet discussion. Stop bringing up touchy subjects you insensitive bastard!
Being tall is awesome. Being blue is doubly awesome. Carrying a sword that is bigger than most of my friends has to be near the absolute pinnacle of awesomeness. Then why am I getting excited about wearing an orange mask?
Paycheck tomorrow! I'm finally going to have money for the first time in forever! All bills and debts will finally be paid and for at least a little while, I'll be debt-free! Oh wait....student loans. Shit.
I'm addicted to bloon-TD and it's a bad thing, since I was entertaining myself with it at work. Perhaps when I should have been being quite serious and reading oh-so-scientific papers. Oops.
When I think of myself, I think of a grump. A guy who doesn't wake up well in the morning, is generally unpleasant, and mumbles whenever possible. And I like that image of myself. Of course, I know it's not entirely true, as I am quite loud and energetic a good 80% of my waking moments. Still, it's nice to at least think that I'm that grumpy kid who can't ever wake up.
This is all and all is this. Leaving a message at the mongoose.
There is something absolutely irresistible about question marks. Their service to the curious aside, they are most definitely adorable. Add a question mark to your sentence and the context changes so dramatically, you can barely lay recognition to it from its previous form! Even that little upward lilt we get in our voices at the end of a question is intriguing and disarming. And a question mark also makes things far more difficult than before. The simple statement "You have a girlfriend," metamorphizes drastically to "You have a girlfriend?" with just that little addition. What was bland has suddenly become intriguing. The questioner is evincing disbelief, curiosity, a blatant disregard for your possible wish for privacy, and maybe a little awe. A question mark is a powerful thing.
My ability for concentration was nil today, as I spent a lot of time reminiscing over past events and how wonderful they had been. A lot of the memories took place in the dark, but the details are still crystal clear. Nostalgia. Le sigh. Fortunately, I didn't miss much, as the various people I was supposed to be listening to had very little of value to say. Of course, I believe this is true of many people I subject my auditory nerve endings to.
I know all the reasons to stop trying. It's your job to come up with the reasons not to.
A little bit of pussy in the lap is a great thing. A lot of pussy in the lap mixed with biting is irritating.
As long as I'm talking about things that amuse me, I love to be creepy. Y'know what I mean. The inappropriate comments made at the most delicious times. Comments that should be made in neither polite nor impolite company. Touching--touching without asking--touching without asking and saying "I like your hair" with that soft nasal voice of a man who hasn't yet moved out of his parent's basement. Creepiness rates high at the top of what I absolutely love. Now if I just had some friends...and lived elsewhere besides a basement.
Speaking of parents, the one who gave me my lovely X chromosome decided that ramming into a car and then a tree was a good idea this past weekend. Okay, so it wasn't really her fault, but I'll be damned if it doesn't seem that she did it just to worry me. If not for my charming sister, I might not even be informed as of yet. Luckily, the worst of the damage was taken by the car, which will never take us on a trip to Meijer again. A broken collarbone and two weeks of bed(chair)rest is what my mother earned, but she is as perky and sardonic as ever. Apparently, it takes more than destroying her only mode of transportation and part of her neck to get my maternal unit down. I need to test this, perchance?
I call my paternal unit "Father-Type-Figure", rather than the normal "Dad". The reasons are multi-varied and not appropriate for internet discussion. Stop bringing up touchy subjects you insensitive bastard!
Being tall is awesome. Being blue is doubly awesome. Carrying a sword that is bigger than most of my friends has to be near the absolute pinnacle of awesomeness. Then why am I getting excited about wearing an orange mask?
Paycheck tomorrow! I'm finally going to have money for the first time in forever! All bills and debts will finally be paid and for at least a little while, I'll be debt-free! Oh wait....student loans. Shit.
I'm addicted to bloon-TD and it's a bad thing, since I was entertaining myself with it at work. Perhaps when I should have been being quite serious and reading oh-so-scientific papers. Oops.
When I think of myself, I think of a grump. A guy who doesn't wake up well in the morning, is generally unpleasant, and mumbles whenever possible. And I like that image of myself. Of course, I know it's not entirely true, as I am quite loud and energetic a good 80% of my waking moments. Still, it's nice to at least think that I'm that grumpy kid who can't ever wake up.
This is all and all is this. Leaving a message at the mongoose.