Barring the typographic blunders which persist and their accompanying verbal gaffes, I generally like the way my communicating has changed. A lot of those issues are due to constant code switching, poor editing, and tiredness. This week has offered a chance to reduce the negative impacts of the last. The other two simply require more concerted ( Read more... )

When the school year began in mid-August, I hit the ground running. I was caught up in the urgent need to learn and do so much. I had to pick a schedule at the high school; be firmer about sleep and what not; eat healthier and be more proactive; I tried to maintain my personal progress from the summer and reintegrate myself socially. In sum, there ( Read more... )

we love the sound
the sound is what found us
the sound is the blood between me and youfrom the song "Romance" by wild Flag ( Read more... )

I'm always amazed at how readily I contradict myself and paint myself into corners. When I'm not accused (usually right, admittedly) of butchering the English language and being a tactless fool, I'm accused of being bitter, paranoid (actually, no one ever has used that word, but I use it a lot to describe myself), anachronistic and out of touch. So ( Read more... )

so, i'm listening to jim gaffigan comedy right now, the hot pocket routine, to be precise. my friend danny is laying on the otehr side of the bed, and i'm laying, typing awkwardly ( Read more... )

"Modesto is a surreal town," I thought as I collapsed in my bed, a deshelved heap of exhaustion. That was my thought on Friday night/Saturday morning. It it what I had proposed to have as my lead-off statement when trying to update my livejournal on Saturday, but I did not do that, as we can tell by the lack of an entry ( Read more... )

What the hell am I still doing up ( Read more... )

Warning: the following entry will be nonsensical rambling filled with moments of self-loathing and incoherence. In short, it is guranteed to be a typical work of mr. kite. Now, who is mr. kite you ask? Such will be answered shortly, when such primilinaries are dropped ( Read more... )

. . .then why can't they come up with a cure for the flu ( Read more... )

First of all, I would like to say this: Whenever I make promises of writing something, no matter what it is, it never happens. Why? Because, I like to write in the moment; I make promises in the moment. Apparently, in the moments worth recording, all my mind can manage to say is "I promise to write of this later. Or, more later. Or, yeah, I'll try ( Read more... )