I don't actually know how to start this.

This is a post about me, and thinking, and me thinking.  It's as lame as that, and I am pretty sure you're a click away from some awesome BBC Merlin fanfiction.  Or your research paper.  So go over there instead.

~

Somehow, I got the idea that thinking should make sense.  Somewhere along the lines of being a ( Read more... )

I think half the problem I have with having this journal is the ideal of regularity and chronology I have in my head. What this only means is that since my writing can't catch up with the events, I'd rather not write if it won't be a suitable recap of life and everything else around it. This makes me both an egotistical self-centered writer and a ( Read more... )

So, so, ok.  Get this.  I'm sad.

(Hello, journal.  You will be the symbolic, tiny, little cotton-comforter-hot-choco-musical-movies existence enshrinement, and I will put the sadness on a pedestal and cocoon it with all good, hopeful things, cushions of comfortability, and I will fan it with palm fronds.  I mean, in the space of this journal ( Read more... )

 
This is what I know of the world: life is short.  Death is a little tiny bit, and eternity is eternity.  This world continues to turn because of inertia and gravity and because that is how it has always been.  The sun never rises and sets, it stays put in one place and it is up to you to make a day a day, a night a night, and to be willful enough ( Read more... )