Back in the Saddle, my sides ache as though I'm nude and it's covered in sand.
That title hopefully will set the tone for this particular post. The word particular was not necessary in that last sentence.
If there's one thing that I've noticed, it's that My (capitalized), cause I rock, first paragraph is the weakest of most of my posts. Weakest that is, unless you consider weakest to really mean first, or unlast.
I keep standing up to flip my saute'ing vegetables that will soon make the base for my soon-to-be wonderful stir fry that will sustain my life for the next twelve hours. I treat my body well these days, something that I haven't been to well known for in the past.
Stream of conciousness. It's a term that I've heard used to describe my particular writing style. My professors are split nearly down the middle on how they feel about it. Basically, if they like me, they like my mind, which means that they like the way that I write. Hopefully, those of you that read this, if there are any, like me at least a little. That had a hint of self conciousness to it, apparantly I'm feeling a little down on myself lately. I mean, how can you not like me? (Short of the fact that I'm completely and hopelessly careless.) Carelessness can also be called another word, a word that is more excellent sounding than careless, but it's escaping me right now. Nietzsche's blonde beast may have been called careless. But, he ruled us all at one point, now didn't he?
Nine fifty five. Has a nice ring to it. My noodles are nearly done.
Alright, to the nitty gritty. Took me a second to sound out nitty. I'm hoping that's right. If anyone cares. Supposing I do.
I'm recently single, and that combined with the fact that I was in BC, in Van, in the house that silly TR lived in, my thoughts have strayed to her stupidly. You know what I realized? Of course you don't. I barely do. She sucks. Clearly. Writing this is intended to exorsize those demons. Now I know I spelled that wrong. Ironic really. Misspelling words uber-sucks. Right, newly single. And, wouldn't you know it. I feel great.
Well, that's all I got for now, dinner's done. Peace out.
If there's one thing that I've noticed, it's that My (capitalized), cause I rock, first paragraph is the weakest of most of my posts. Weakest that is, unless you consider weakest to really mean first, or unlast.
I keep standing up to flip my saute'ing vegetables that will soon make the base for my soon-to-be wonderful stir fry that will sustain my life for the next twelve hours. I treat my body well these days, something that I haven't been to well known for in the past.
Stream of conciousness. It's a term that I've heard used to describe my particular writing style. My professors are split nearly down the middle on how they feel about it. Basically, if they like me, they like my mind, which means that they like the way that I write. Hopefully, those of you that read this, if there are any, like me at least a little. That had a hint of self conciousness to it, apparantly I'm feeling a little down on myself lately. I mean, how can you not like me? (Short of the fact that I'm completely and hopelessly careless.) Carelessness can also be called another word, a word that is more excellent sounding than careless, but it's escaping me right now. Nietzsche's blonde beast may have been called careless. But, he ruled us all at one point, now didn't he?
Nine fifty five. Has a nice ring to it. My noodles are nearly done.
Alright, to the nitty gritty. Took me a second to sound out nitty. I'm hoping that's right. If anyone cares. Supposing I do.
I'm recently single, and that combined with the fact that I was in BC, in Van, in the house that silly TR lived in, my thoughts have strayed to her stupidly. You know what I realized? Of course you don't. I barely do. She sucks. Clearly. Writing this is intended to exorsize those demons. Now I know I spelled that wrong. Ironic really. Misspelling words uber-sucks. Right, newly single. And, wouldn't you know it. I feel great.
Well, that's all I got for now, dinner's done. Peace out.
