A Lethargy-Infestation of the Osteographics.

The technical jargon for the colloquial "Lazy Bones."

I've been taking it easy. It might not look like it, because of my really run-around schedule, but I have.
I've considered pondering a new handle - I was particularly captured by "Saint Runabout."

All the same, I've been getting up at 6:00, which is a whole hour longer than usual, and a whole three hours more than what I was getting before waking up at 6:00, because I'd been beating my alarm and waking up at 3:00. It might be a cause for concern. I don't know what's making so tired at the minutes between 8:00 and 9:00 PM, but it's really got me on the ropes and I'm starting to feel like a real lightweight.

I've been working out with an unusual intensity, but the intensity is so much so that I can only do the new ab-routine I've started once every two days. I tried to sneak in an extra set between convalescence and it just broke me. I've been using my old one in between while I kind of heal-up. I've kind of been writing off all my sleep-early antics off on that, but in retrospect it might not be the case. I just don't know - maybe I should take up more tea or coffee?

Yesterday was great. I got my letters out - I'd been meaning to mail out tea for Emily and An for like, weeks, and I finally got it out of the way. I've been doing a whole lot better when it comes to getting mail out because I've re-purposed an old messenger bag of my little sister's into a mail bag that straps me kind of like a backpack, which now allows me to sprint myself there as opposed to walking with papers tucked under my jacket so I can tuck my freezing hands into my pockets and move at a snail's brisk jog, insuring that I don't bend the postcards I'm sending.
Without the risk of dropping my wallet, losing my keys, or bending my letters, I'm just an utter tank getting there. My pockets have been replaced, forever.

I've been spending more and more time offline or online but not really there because I'm busy - I apologize about that. I almost feel like I'm growing up and finding better ways to apply my time and prioritize, though I do worry it's coming at the expense of something or someone, which will likely rear its face in posts to follow this one.

In the time since Onni's death, I've had quite a bit of trouble roleplaying - he and I used to do it very often, and I loved the fact that he'd let me get away with writing pages upon pages of scenery. I can say there's only been one that I'm remotely proud of that's happened since. I think I've found an outlet for my creativity that less-often ends with people vanishing or a sour mood by keeping my hands busy with pencils and postcards.
I don't know. I want to roleplay, but nothing seems like it's matching up. Maybe this is a great opportunity to work more on D.B. Krmmstopp's Universal Almanac? After my mouse broke, I kind of lost my drive to finish it because I couldn't handle the meticulous pixel-work I needed to do without the convenience of a smooth-scrolling cursor. Now, it's kind of an open slate, if I care for it to be. I might care.

Or, perhaps I'm just maturing. Maybe I've matured beyond writing fluff and I'm kind of at that try-hard turning point in my life again. The last was when I'd decided I would get into the University of Saskatchewan
(Which I did.) so I'm kind of overdue. I might buckle-down and really get some stuff done while time and mentality permit it.

I've got an open window - why not climb out it?

As you may have noticed:

There's a considerable lack of pictures here - this is because I have lost the charging cable to my camera.

When I return, I'm going to slather this page in Boy-Shou.

Because, hey. It'll be colorful.

-

I've returned to keep my promise.













Hell yes, girls with muscles and tiger-print buzzcuts.
I hope this fills your quota for Onikobe Rin.

Chik-!

That's the sound my mind tends to make, at least I imagine, when I do stuff like because I imagine it kind of spring-loading to do all of this in one sitting which is always kind of impractical. I meant to do this last night but for some reason 8:00 PM has become the new 12:00 AM, and I've got all the late-night tenacity of a napping cat.

On the bright side, though, I didn't wake up at 3:00 today. Hello 6:40 AM! I haven't seen you in so long. My, how you've grown! Lovely jacket, did you cut your hair? Snrk, snrk, snrk.

I was on a weird kick yesterday - I'd meant to play MasterSword, where I am ever more proud to be playing a Monk - I'll tell you why I'm so fond of spears in a moment, provided I don't run into any odd distractions or tangents, but this is a great branch to hold out on if I run out of stuff to type, s odon't count on it. Aah, shit - again, I'm not correcting my typos as I do this, but I am occasionally typing with one hand so I can drink my coffee. Its's not s vrery good sysstem sd you can see! Which kind of reminds me:

Ever heard of OpenCola? I guess it was part of this odd Danish or Finnish, or maybe Swedish or, uh, or... Shit, I can't think of another country. What's that one with Oslo? Um...Norwegian. It was some kind of bork-bork snowland (Sorry, Hjalmar, I'm going to quote you with the bork-bork to be amusing because I always thought it was sort of funny but innacurrate.) project where these guys were inspired by Open-Source coding and software and had essentially decided, "Let's make an open-source beer!" which gradually weclomed an open-source cola as well.

I thought that was pretty slick. It seems to be a pretty convoluted set-up but they actually had a guide for how to make your own club-soda without any sodium or anything. I could even caffienate it if I wanted to. If I felt like it. S'il vou plait. Hehe. It looks kind of convoluted and hard to work with though, yeah - lots of bottling things for weeks. Lots of yeast and syrups and powders. It's kind of cool though - some people actually have access to bottling presses and they sell their own varieties of OpenCola with recipe-cards for how to make it at home, and advertising for the sites and such. I don't know about the beer. If I made a beer, I would make a very, very dark beer. I think it's cool to see thosew weird beers with like...Y'know, the ones that look like a glass of bubbling tar. I'd drink that just to be Macho.

I'm not even a beer person. I seldom drink at all.
More curious about absinthe, though. Never have been able to get ahold of it.

Oh! shit i Forgot ti tell you abot the spears! Onikobe Rin! I've been on a huge Onikobe Rin kick. I follow him on Pixiv as I'm a huge fan of his super-androgynous girls-who-look-like-boys characters. I've always had a good deal of fun making girl-boys far past "Shoulder-length hair and a smoking-habit," and right down to "Buzz-cut and vodka," but there's really very few outlets to handle it. I mean, if you're playing a game, they very seldom have a "Butch" bar for you to scale back and forth, and they usually have a set-upof feminine haircuts for you to pick from. There's a few though, and I'll tel you about them sometime - Arcanum is amazing not one of them, but if you're craving that boyish position, there's very very few oppotunities for straight sex as a woman in that game. Lots and lots of catering, I imagine, for nerdy boys eating pizza while they play in their hours before school.

Or maybe just fallout-throwbacks I don't know. It took a lot of its inspiration from the original Fallouts, and you can even see a homage to it with a man wearing steam-plate woefully telling you a tale about being kicked out to find a source of indless water by the Mage Ordinatiate at Tlla. Er, Tulla, that is. Tulla by the way? Fuckin' beautiful. Every now and then I wish fervantly I knew how to open pre-existing maps in the Arcanum Editor so that I could make a Tulla-esque workshop in one of the far corners of the Morbihan Desert so that I didn't have to put up with Tarant or Wolf's-Pit every time I wanted to store something. And it'd be so pretty. It'd be so utterly pretty. I would have the prettiest little store-room ever.

It'd look like a small home. I'd even put in a little bed, and maybe a trap-door if I knew what I were doing (I don't.)

Oh! But yeah, Boy-Shou. Boy-Shou is the greatest thing under the sun. I must be the Boy-Shou. It's all the incentive I need to continue my new ab-workout routine. Basically, I've been hanging upside down from this suspended chair and then doing curls. I could only do fifteen last time. I can do sixty sit-ups no problems, but that vertical hanging shit, oh man, I did fifteen and it's my second day afterwards and I still feel it when I breathe. My father asserts me that it's the worst thing so he doesn't do it, but that it is indeed how you get sexy abs like Boy-Shou. And probably Yuugi.

...I need to stop connecting characters with good bodies to myself. I'm just working out.
Fuckin' vain, man.

Anywaus, Boy-Shou has a spear. Yes. I delayed you all that time to tell you "SPEAR," but hey, it takes a Spear and Unarmed fighting to be a Monk. That's right. Ichirin and Shou references all rolled up in one gloroius, oh shit what did I type? In one Glorioius...Oh damn it all. Glorious "HEEEEEE :3c" I confess I still don't know if this thing can handle Half-Life 1, but it handled Deus-Ex 1, so I'm hoping.

Oh man, Deus Ex...I should play you again sometime. I miss you.
Digressing! I'll talk more about HERE, TAKE THIS SOY FOOD, later.

Aw yeah I judt finidrg my...Just finuinished my...JUST FINISHED MY COFFEE.

No more shitty typing unless it happens as a natural byproduct of going a mile a minute.
Or maybe caffiene jitters.

Gotta think, gotta think, gotta think, gotta think, gotta

The military has just recieved my PTSD records, now. They're processing them.
This makes me kind of worrisome because while I can do the sit-ups and the sprint, I'm still having trouble doing the 60 push-ups in a minute...

The sad thing's that my arms are totally capable of handling the push-ups. It's just so hard to breath while doing them because if you take a deep breath your belly goes slack, and I -need- to take a deep breath being asthmatic which is very frustrating. I can hit thirty before I "HAAAH...HAAAH" and have to re-position myself for an extra set. That's not what they want. They want- double- that and I can't give it to them.

Fucking hell.

Maybe they'll see my awesome uh, what do you call it, credentials and be like, "Hey! You've checked most of the boxes and you're not a knuckle-dragger, and you've waited like a month and some change!"

That'd be really nice, but in the meantime I'm going to keep working out and trying to get better. It's nobody's job to help me, thus spoketh Ayn Rand.

Time for another tangent. I was talking to Emily-

Actually, let's forget that and focus on Emily. One of the reasons I have yet to find out if my computer's capable of handling MasterSword is the state her sister's in. As a nursey sort of person, I know the medical mantra for "Stroke" is "Time lost is brain lost," I think they handled it very quickly. The bad thing about a stroke is, if you survive it, it tends to be kind of like - at the risk of sounding utterly nerdy - a mass de-buff. It doesn't cripple you always, but it sets EVERYTHING back a notch. Only a notch, but -EVERYTHING-, and sometimes all you need for something new to complicate the situation or to aggrivate a pre-existing condition is to be short a notch.

That makes me worry a whole lot.

Regardless, I know she survived it, and that there was vascular damage to her neck and that she was recovering pretty well, but now she's going in for a surgery to fix some of the complications with terer...What the shit? With regard to the Stroke's aftermath. I don't know if it's a neurosurgery or if there's some muscular damage, or they're inspecting arterial walls or something - I'm too polite to ask or prod. I just hope that all goes well.

If you're the praying type, I'd chip in Emily's Sister beside Onni's Mother in the Big Guy's suggestion box.

If you're not and you're close enough to know who Emily is without asking me? Give her some support! Stuff's always nice to have in times like this.

If you're not praying and you're out of the loop, hey. Thanks for reading.

To finish the first sentence, we were swapping famous quotes, and with that Ayn Rand bit above, as well as a million pseudo-Randian posts behind this one, you might know that I like Ayn Rand.
I like Ayn Rand.
Anyways, there was actually an Objectivist movement after the wake of the release of Atlas Shrugged and people went crazy for her work, and all the cool shit it'd do. Unfortunately, they wbecame dogmatic, which is just what the books kind of fear. Dogma. Idiocy. No free will.
Long story short, while AYn Rand helped me, it also fucked up a lot of others.

Buddha had a very good quote where he just said, "Don't believe anything, even if I have said it, unless it agrees with your logic and principle."

Very good quote. Ayn Rand's probably rolling in her grave as I pick and choose from her perspective and squish it into mine as opposed to just taking her entire perspective, but it works for me. I temper out a lot of the Randian taciturn with Emily's almost hippie-ish love for everyone. She has a very loving and accomodating perspective that kind of accounts for everyone's differences and their beliefs in themselves...

Meanwhile, I'm very "I did ___ alone. You can do it, too. We have the same physical resources."
"I have so you can," as Emanuel calls it, is kind of my crutch when people critique my advice.

I try not to make friends I don't need. I try not to uh, wait, ear-itch. I try not to care at a deficit, and I love people who deserve it and who rise to the occasion when it matters.

That's not a very accomodating system, so I often steal a lot of shades of gray from Emily's philosopgies...Philosophies. It works for me, too.

Consider some of that. Or don't consider it at all if it disagrees with your logic.

Also, Liam. I should talk about Liam. Liam's cool. I want to call Liam today, or catch him in Skype or something. I've been secretly doing a lot of talking about Liam, and it's making me nostalgic. I adore Liam. I don't know why! It's kind of a funny thing. Most people wouldn't be friends with someone if they had the wierd histroy...Werird...Werid...Oh, damn it all. I'm just going to leave that one. Forget it. The History we have together, but we've just got the best-defined sort of...Awesome give and take ever.

We've got apprehensive, "Don't cross this line," sort of stuff. Like, I bet if I insulted Sophee, he'd endure it for no more than fifteen seconds before lashing out at Emily and telling me to fuck myself.

But we also call eachother when we need a shoulder or something. I was really happy to hear from him when they put Buddy to sleep. Really regretful that I explained how Ketamine works in Euthanasia but...He didn't hold it against me.

Better yet, a lot of people don't understand Liam. I guess it's because he doesn't always understand them. Liam would outright rather be wrong, and admit his flawed logic, that accept sound logic from someone who's also an asshole. Which is kind of good and kind of bad. A lot of people have that "I'm okay you're okay," kind of sheep, vanilla-ocean mentality. Liam doesn't follow that mindset. Sometimes it makes him ambitious and innovative. Sometimes he just tells you to fuck your hands, too, though. It's a weird system. Sometimes it works, though.

I don't know. I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate Liam.
He's a tricky cookie to eat. He's got a lot of odd facets to him. We've got a lot of history.
I always see him as this sullen lover who's distant and takes a lot of abuse but really rises to the occasion when you need him to. I hope Sophee kind of turns him about in her hands a bit and stops weighing so much upon her kind of...I guess Social Group? I really wish she'd just borrow my eyes or something, and see all those weird lines drawn and how to approach things. I wish she'd kind of appreciate 'em more, I guess. Or at least see how he things, and work around it.

...That sounds too much like a therapy session. Ugh.

I don't know. Anyways! I've gotten my OpenSoda rant out, I've gotten my suspiciously MASCULINE apreciation for Onikobe Rin's work out, I've talked about some quotes and the stroke, and finally bragged about Liam which I've been meaning to do for along time now. I guess this kind of concludes

NOPE! I HAVE ANOTHER STORY.

Hjalmar (bork, bork, awesome person too, should write more about you,) and I were talking about Greece and GAY SEX. Yep. Hot butt-lovin'. Not really, though, but mostly the odd kind of connotations of men loving men in Ancient Greece and Rome, and in Arabia as well.

I bet we've bot h got super-glamorized eyes on it, and I know there's a lot of unprettiness in it too. Like these two Jannisaries fighting over a cute Bath-Attendant boy. Their Dervish hears about it and just murders the boy they were fighting over and goes, "Alright soldiers. Let's move on," or like...I know a Roman boy dressed as a young girl and was gang-raped by his classmates. That's kind of screwed up. Sounds like a bad doujin. But ah...A nice thing about rape in Roman times is, they didn't few the rape-victim as a victim. They refused to give the rapists the satisfaction of having "lowered the person's social standing," by raping them. They basically were kind of..."Hey. Don't cry. Guy's a bastard. Let's get you cleaned up and on your feet," about it. I think the Government at the time actually gave monetary compensation to the gang-rape victim and then protected him or something. I don't remember.

Regardless, Hjalmar and I spent a lot of time pondering...I think it was Pederasty? Yes, no red-underlines. Pederasty. Basically, they'd pair you off to some guy who was a little older than you. There's a lot of reported sexual stuff in it, but it was also looked upon as something close to murder if you betrayed the trust of the boy you were protecting by sleeping with him or letting others do similar, unless you had a relationship beyond that or something. I don't know. Anyways, we both kind of wished we had something like that when we were small. A Ran to our Chens.

I really wished I had an older boy to have saved me when I lived in England and I was being whalloped for being a foreigner.

Hjalmar kind of clung to his brother's friends, and he told me about a particularly handsome and kind one who kind of looked out for him.

It's kind of weird looking back on it. I don't know. I just really wish they had a good system like that. I think Japan has a manditory one or something with that whole "-sempai" bit, but...I don't know. It's something to think about.

I wish there were more older children watching out for younger children. I wish there were trust and brotherly affection - comraderie and such. I wish I had someone looking out for me at that age.

Anyways, before I verge on the line of age-regressed homosexual fantasy, I'm going to call this good and move on.

Thanks for reading. It's been a pleasure to get this out in one sitting so I don't bore ears with it later. I've got to get to the Gym for a bit of punishment. I'd also like to ge t a nice hot shower.

Touhou Raps.

I'm so ashamed but not ashamed enough to stop.
There's nothing more to say or explain beyond that there may be more later:

When Reimu comes a-steppin', bitch Youkai get pissed
She'll use that Gohei as a weapon with a mic in her fist
Straight pious reppin' - I ain't the only one, son!
Priestly lyrics so fast you'll think they're leavin' a gun.

Mikos show their pits when I enter the room,
It's Kirisame, bitch, comin' in on a broom.
My rap-sheet's black, full of stealin' and crimes
Fuckin' take your Precious Thing before I clown on your rhymes.

My name's Mizuhashi and I'm jealous as shit
Pointed ears, angry peers, you're about to get lit.
My rhymes'll hit you like a train. You'll think they came out a gap.
You've got promise and game, but your lyrics are crap.

Is that Toramaru Shou, or just Ran with a spear?
Can't call a bitch a ho, when I don't know who's here!
Stick to what you know, maybe then you'll win.
While I'm runnin' this show, you're feelin'-up on Chen.

Letty's in the house and my lyrics are phattest,
Scalin' up through the ranks, make you think it's a lattice.
My lyrics get hotter as your blood runs cold,
I got physique like an otter, but you're still gettin' told.

Inaba Tei, and lying's my skill
So your lyrics are mad and your rap's gonna kill.
That crowd'll go wild and you won't even choke.
You're not getting filed under "already smoked."

What's got two antennas, a dick, and sick routine?
Wriggle Nightbug, slick, and she's up in the scene.
Representin' Team Nine with an ass that glows
I got swag so fine I wake up covered in ho's.

Look up in the sky, it's bird, it's a bro!
It's a news reporter, bitch. Fuckin' Aya the Crow.
My fuckin' raps are rare, my dropped lyrics are best.
Get you all-fours like a chair while I'm filming your chest.

The Chinese Girl - I'm a commie by heart.
You think rappin's a game? I fuckin' make it an art.
Unleash the dragon before you even say "Beret,"
Welcome to the Hong Dynasty. Get outta my way.

The Elegant Maid, I'll stick your gut with a shiv.
I ain't getting paid - all the fucks that I give?
None. Your rap's so flat it probably needs PADs.
Style on you so hard you pass it on as a dad.

Half ghost, half gardener, but all O.G.
Youmu Konpaku - ain't got nothin' on me.
I'll kill you so fast you won't know that you're gone.
All you'll see is your past, a dropped mic, and Myon.

Typecatharsis.

So it's 11:28 and I'm sitting here typing. I don't even think I'm going to fix my typoes. you see, back when I first knew Liam, he would have these moments of text-vomiting where he would sit back and write evertyhing that came though his fingers, and I think I'm just going to do that for a moment to see what comes of it. I'm half worried this is going to come out like a Philip Glass opera or something, but I don't have anything to lose by it and if it does work and my mind's cleared of this weird fogginess then hey! I'm a happy camper.

I'm trying not to pause but it's kind of difficult. There's not a lot going on in my head beyond this weird fascination with the phrase, "Okay" - did you know "Okay" is the most-understood word universally? That's pretty neat. I want to say it a lot more then. I very seldom say "Okay" anymore - I always opt for something more exuberant or intellectual. That probably means foreigners can't understand me. If everything were just okay though? I'd be sitting in butter. Okay, okay okay.

I'm running, I'm- no, I don't like that train of thought. I'm sitting here with a tea-lozenge in my mouth. I've been writing a lot of people for hollow occasions and I want to just set b-...sit back and write people for better realsons and mail them tea. The flavor of the week is Green, I'm not typically a huge Green Tea fan but I've grown a little fond of it when pairing it with milk. Feels very weeaboo. It's teaaboo fanfare. Hehehe.

Speaking of fanfare, I was in a mad Touhou rap awhile back. I don't know why I like typing those silly-ass raps, but it's kind of fun. Alon got me on the habit of it a long time ago, and then one night at like, 3:00 AM the next day on no sleep, I was taunted into voice-chat by Shouseiseki and we squared off in a lyrical duel that shook the shingles off the rooves of eeveryone in the room. It was pretty awesome, but I lost. I just did this one with Reimu and after we realized we had no idea who each person was supposed to be playing, we just degraded into spouting garbage about Touhou in general. It was a laugh, but it was pretty awful.

Speaking of things being fun but awful, I got to make a few sprays for someone today. I used to have a huge demand for them back when Team Fortress wasn't free-to-play and everyone wanted to slather their E-faces on walls - to the point that i remember Catherine scolding me for being a pushover and stopping what I was doing in order to make sprays and avatars for people. I'm pretty good at it. I'm not the best - there's some shit that I'm just not patient enough to crop into sprays and there's some things that just stay pixellated no matter how you slice 'em. It's like a shitty jpeg-artifact pizza. I find I'm usuing a lot of profanity in this post - maybe it's true about what they say: people who swear a lot aren't creative enough to think of other things? I could just not have any time to think though. Getting all of this out without pausing is starting to be an ass pain, but it's definitely cathartic, so I see why Liam was so fond of doing it way back when we first met.

Can't pause, can't pause, can't pause, can't pause I have to think of something though, oh shit, I have to think I can't stall out and run out of steam, uhhhh...wait for it wanti, for it wait for it. I've got it,

so I was going to type another recipe today; it was going to be the recipe for a Rut, which has a few meanings. If you Google it, the internet will tell you that a Rut is just a time of the year when Male animals get all sexed-up and such - it's basically male heat. That's not what I was going to write about. Here in America, a Rut is the colloquial term for...Well, I don't reall know. It's a hard thing to name. There's a synonym for it, and it's "Slump", but that doesn't explain what it is any clearer. A Rut is basically a long drawn span of frustrated and general >=|, but it's not depression. It's like when you get Writer's Block, but it's for life.
Liver's block. That sounds like some sort of blood clot. Nevermind. It's basically when you're kind of stewing, and frustrating, and grumpy, and dissatisfied but not depressed or sad.

I've been in a bit of a rut as of late, and only recently have I gotten ahold of it. While trying to write a recipe for a Rut, I realized that it was a really short recipe and it depended mostly on cooking instructions and ultimately, it looked a whole lot like "BOIL WATER," so I didn't write it up like I said I would.

Let me tell you how to make a Rut, so that you can avoid one or at least know when it's coming.

Do something you love for people you don't.

That's how you get in a rut. Do something you love for people you don't.

You'll even momentarily come to resent the thing you love and the people you tolerate over it, probably. I think it might be why I haven't made a Spray in like, a year and a half or some shit. I was probably in a rut over having to make them so often, but now that i've bg- shit the phone rang, I didn't account for this, and it scared me enough to make me leap and mistype. Damn it. Well, like I was saying, I was probably in a rut over having to make sprays so often, but now that I haven't in so long, it's realyl refreshing to crank a few out and marvel at how much better I am in photoshop after some trial and error.

Yesterday my bank, a branch of HSBC, closed its New York branches and began kind of disarming to leave America. I was really saddened by this, and it made me step on this kind of Ayn Rand landmine. If you've never read Atlas Shrugged, it's basically about a world that shackles the economically strong to account for the economically weak and eventually it breeds mediocrity and everyone with talent kind of vanishes, and from there it's more of a cool espionage/political novel but you can see where I was drawing my lines having said all of that. HSBC was the first bank I'd been a client of that really made me feel like I mattered. They were prompt, they were professional, they were hard-assed about giving out information, which while frustrating sometimes was a sure-sign that they were the real deal. They basically said it was too hard to work in America, and that they sold their assets in New York to First Niagara. I was really heartbroken. I felt like the most qualified person for the job just said, "Sorry guys - this is a sinking ship."

It makes me angry, too.

Congress and the House of Representatives? They're not going to hear shit over this. The president however? He's going to get his ears jam-packed full of hatemail and garbled phone-calls. The presidency has become more and more a figurehead to me. I don't know if it's because we don't have any hard-nosed bastards like Ike Eisenhower anymore, or if it's just because Congress has so much clout, but I really wish people would stop being disgruntled over the presidency and start pointing the finger at the Congressional body that's catering to all of these Special Interest Groups, and throwing millions of dollars at corporations that are shackled by misinformed and well-intentioned policies that don't allow them to work. Sure, the money's nice, but it doesn't remove the policies that are hurting business in the first place.

Did you know Barack Obama gave so and so a million dollars to keep them afloat?
Bullshit, buddy, the presidency can't do that without getting approval from the other two branches. He's not the fucking treasurer or some shit.

Anyways. I'm going to digress on that topic. Politics always gets me hot-blooded and for all of my talk, I'm not exactly the most educated guy in the room about it - I've taken an Honors Political Course in Highschool. Granted, I had someone I believe to be the most straight-forward and realistic guy as a professor for it, but it was just that. A Politics Course.

I've paused mentally, and I need to find another strand to pick up. I know it's there, but it's kind of on the ground somewhere, like when you drop a ring in a gravel-patch and you can see it, but you can't really feel it.

I suppose I can talk about like...I don't know. I was going to look for something meta-...Hey, actually, disregard that.

Ever watch a sitcom without its laughtrack? It looks ridiculous, with people standing around waiting for punchlines to garner a laugh. Emanuel, who I admit isn't always my favorite person, and I were chumming it up over coffee this morning and he remarked that the Big Bang Theory was selling fake nerd-humor to an audience that wasn't nerds. I watched a part of it where a guy was lamenting his crummy love-life and his crappy Nintendo Emulator - the Emulator garnered a punchline pause for no real reason. He said, "Us nerds are like, 'Why's that funny? Why doesn't he just download a better emulator?'" and I kind of agreed. Moreover, he followed it up by pointing out that Scrubs doesn't have a laughtrack. They don't remind you when something's funny. I kind of admired that when I saw it in action, and it was such a small detail that, in having watched Scrubs before, I hadn't even noticed the complete lack of "AHAHAHAHHA" between every funny moment. Nope.

Scrubs, which I keep wanting to type as Clerks for some reason, respects your intelligence and leaves you the space to find the funny stuff yourself.

We took a few shots at eachother with "If this was The Big Bang Theory? ___ would have a laughtrack," it was fairly Meta but not enough to make either of us feel too brainy afterwards, I think.

I'm running on nothing again after finishing that diatribe, and worse still, my tea-lozenge is entirely gone now, so I'm getting dry-mouthed as I attempt to keep up with the odd pace with which I'm typing. I don't really like that.

I got into a talk about my childhoo-...I think I've actually told the majority of that story here somewhere or another, I'm not going to touch it twice. I can sort of say that I've been relating a lot of stuff back to my childhood for some reason. Lots of talking about how I presume I established my odd reluctance to accept gifts, and my need for independence.

I'm going to digress now and talk about Soda. I've always been a fan of Soda - preferably very weird soda like Cucumber, or Elderberry, or Malta Goya (whatever flavor that shit is) - and only recently have I broken my casual drinking of it, which has been replaced by tea and water after having swapped msot of my soda-consuption over to Club Soda, which is really nice. If you've got an addiction to bubbles but you're watching your waistline, swap to Club Soda: it gets stains out of fabric, it tastes very refreshing when it's ice-cold, it uh, wait, wait, wait, I forgot where I was going with this. It does something else too. Oh! yeah! It's full of like, calcinates or something that also cure bellyaches.

So it's better for you than traditional soda, it removes stains, and it cures belly-aches. Club Soda is like, the swiss-army beverage. Keep some around.

If you're a fan of cocktails, too, it can be used in some pretty neat stuff.

I've gotten off-track, though. I don't know where i wwwas even going with this soda talk, so I might jsut leave it there.

I've been considering playing video-games a bit more. Emily gave me a good push earlier when she gave me Half-Life, so that I could join her in a famously difficult mod for it called "MasterSword" - I was curious because it has one of those Unarmed routes. Now that i have it, I guess I have an incentive to try it out.

Other quite interesting flavors were "Realm of the Mad God," "Dwarf Fortress," and um...Oh, Arcanum again. You've already heard me gush about Arcanum, but I was on this big Saint Astraea kick, and they have this Knight who pledges Loyalty to you and these white Saint's Robes, and you can actually make it through the entire game without killing anyone, so I was thinking that I could basically go Deus Ex with it and do a piety playthrough as a Saint with no kills.

About the others though. Realm of the Mad God has a Priest -And- and a Paladin class and it's got cheesy 8b-it graphics, which is sort of charming in its own right. However, I have a sneaky sucpicion that evetyone's going to stop playing it after its initial popularity, kind of like Recettear for everyone but Yuugi, who still plays it after i bought him it for his birthday. I kind of like that - not the "Everyone dropping a game," but that Yuugi hasn't dropped Reccetear and Terraria.

As for Dwarf DFortress, I've always kind of had this awkard appreeciation for it. It's got those aformentioned cheesy 8-bit graphics, but it's also got this massive prestige attached to it. It's like the hallmark of Hardcore Gaming. The game of Neckbeards. The Pabst Blue-Ribbon of "Oh shit, people can play this?"

It used to be a hot topic in Maid Army to name Dwarves after all of our friends and then post the ensuing antics as Liam stands in a pit of Lava and just doesn't give a shit and Arzi flips his lid and decides that everyone but Andy is expendable and must die.

Moreover, I've always had this weird appreciation for games where I can pick crops. I grew up - after my RTS and FPS stints - playing Citybuilders. I loved Zeus and Pharaoh, these two City-Builders by Sierra that allowed you to pick what goods you liked. You have no idea how many pomegranates I grew, and how many Sea Urchins I gathered. Looking back, if I could play it again, I think I'd just make my town the most PIOUS CITY ON THE BLOCK.

It'd be like playing Uesugi in Atlantis. Or Egypt.

Gotta think, gotta think, gotta thik- no, I think I'm good. Looking at the clock, it's 1:26 now, and I think I'm going to leave it at this.

My head's feeling much clearer and I think I might make a habit of this in the distant future by following it up with another similar disorganized and lengthy post like this. I'm going to name them "...Wh- damn it, it's so hard to think of a name for these things without pausing to think of a name for these things. I'm going to call them "Uninterrupted"s because that's what they are and that's most certainly the most honest name for them.

The Rough Morning

Ingredients:

3 Hours Sleep.
1 Erotic Dream.
1 Cold Shower.
2 Hours Workout.
1 Slice Cold Pizza.

* An optional 4-8 Hours Work before
or after make this recipe more of a meal.

1. Begin by preheating your bed to a comfortable warmth.
   When you've acquired the yield of three hours, quickly add the Erotic Dream.
   Whisk the two together vigorously until stiff peaks form and you wake up needful and disgruntled.
   
   
2. Remove yourself and cool liberally by submerging into the Cold Shower.
   This will take off some of the Erotic Dream's pungent edge, but not all of it. It's worth noting that Reality cannot compete with the naturally-occurring Fantasy present in Sleep, so beating at this stage will not yield results.
   
   
3. At this point you should be wide awake but still quite disgruntled. Dump in the 2 Hours of Workout. Mix roughly in with the rest of the Morning to again temper-out some of the Erotic Dream's pungent edge, but also to compensate for the other Hours of Sleep that would be typically used in the recipe for a Morning.
   
   
4. Complete the Rough Morning with the Slice of Cold Pizza. This should sit heavily in your stomach like shame, and confirm the notion that the Erotic Dream is indeed only a dream. At this stage, if you've not had the Hours of Work prior as a Main Course, you may serve your Rough Morning atop 4-8 Hours of Work depending on the number being served.
   

A Profound Link with the Inanimate.

As of late, I've begun to spend a lot of time looking at metals and flowers and the supposed connotations and meanings of each. I don't know which facets of this appeal to me, but every now and then I imagine using my symbolic understandings of them to conduct myself in an utterly Shakespearean manner during a roleplay for some character like D.B. Krmmstopp or Militia Concordian who my mind shall always be pregnant with but who will never come to be fully defined until I finally have a place to lay down and nurse them in.

I don't know where it began, but I suspect I've always had this profound link with the inanimate, as it was called by a dear friend whose jasper bracelet would've symbolized long-term invigoration, spiritual protection, self-discipline, and a defined need to help others - had I actually been skilled enough to make the bracelet, that is. The red silk it would have been made from would have meant good luck, as well.

Even when I was small, I recall wearing a ring of lion's print my mother gave to me before I'd lost it. It bolstered me to know I had it on, despite the abuse that plagued my youth.

I don't necessarily know where I was headed with this, but I suppose I just think mundane things can have profound implication, or even serve as a focal point for the spiritual. But not intrinsically. They're sort of like...Batteries. You have to know and believe and look for it. You've got to define it until it's there. Own it until it's yours. Turn them on. Implement them.

Maybe that's what makes giving a memento from your youth to someone so heavy. You know what it means and you know what it carries.

Pardon the Delay.

It's been awhile since I've written. You might be thinking it has anything to do with my prior post, but you'd be largely incorrect - I've simply begun oddjobbing oncemore and it has been taking my hours from 8:00 to 8:00. It's not a spectacular take either; I'm planning on walking away with a one-hundred twenty dollar profit. When I figure for the pizza-order I placed across the nation for my favorite impoverished armpit-displayer, the cottonweed seeds I ordered, and the five dollars this printpress studio stiffed me, it's really a ninety-something profit.

The pizza was worth it. I got to request "Please flirt shamelessly," upon the ordering instructions.

The photo-place was probably worth it, too. They charged me $5.00 for a $0.53 order and they kind of misunderstood my postcard orders and gave me an entire sheet of Saint Astraea, but I know how they do things now and I know that they charge a flat rate of $5.00 to run any order that's under $5.00, so next time I can come in with a pocketful of change and get the orders I'd actually like to have - and on cardstock, too. I don't even have to pay extra for cardstock, and that stuff's outrageously expensive. As I see it, I may as well have payed five bucks to learn the proper way to order custom postcards in bulk. The long walk to get there in my crappy work-shoes blistered the heels of my feet, though. Like, right on the bottom too - who the hell gets the bottom of their feet blistered? It's always the ankles or the toes. Only coal-walkers get heel-blisters.

My family's away in New York City for a bit, which is kind of nice. Everything's quiet for a change; no rants, no opera fanfare at 11:00 PM, no Rhianna or Adele - I know I'll sleep well tonight. Part of me wants to pretend it's a double-edged affair and that I'll be kind of bored without them, but I'm frankly spending most of my day elsewhere before going to bed early so it's not like I'm seeing too much of anyone anyways.

I wish I had more to say, but I've been up since 3:00, so my head's sort of foggy. I have no idea why I keep beating my alarm, but I'm not keen on it.

In Loving Memory of Onni Böök.

Yesterday, I had received a call from a friend of mine whom I'd often written named Onni. The few readers I have might know him under his monicker "Scarlet Rose".

He said he'd taken a cab home from school but that the driver was involved in a collision. I was worried that he might be bleeding, to which he said he was fine and simply in a lot of pain and in the care of the ambulance at the moment, but that he'd like my company. After a short time, someone asked him something in Swedish, and he replied in kind before simply saying, "I have to turn off my phone. I'll call later, please be available to receive it."

I'd told a few of his close friends he was in an accident, but that he'd said he were well and that heavy x-raying and scanning is typically done post-collision to make certain there's no spinal damage or internal bleeding. I imagined after all of those tests and having been so shaken-up, he'd probably want to get some sleep, so I didn't think anything of it when he didn't call.

He passed-away.

He was such a sweet person. In knowing me, we'd exchanged a lot of talk about chivalry, and I often told him of seasonal flowers and their meanings. He'd always gone for Cottonweed which symbolizes affection and I had always gone for Honeysuckles which symbolize devotion.

He'd come to be a fan of Garl Vinland, who I had come to be a fan of through Emily, and we often chucked ideas of playing games together back and forth, because I had played World of Warcraft in its initial release, and he had picked it up in its later years and having since quit, I would need someone to reacquaint me.

Three letters and a candle. That's all I have of him now.
I can't stop crying. Just looking at them like that, spread out on my bed.
That's all I have of him.

I don't know if he was a religious person. I gave him the cross of my rosary on a pendant after it broke for Valentine's Day. But I've prayed for him, and I know he couldn't have suffered if he didn't anticipate it himself.

I just don't know what to say.

That person you talk about old-world courtesies with. Whose streams you watch. Who you call in the morning. Who you make Valentine's Chocolates for. Whose friends you tried to reassure after an accident.

They could be gone tomorrow. They could be stolen right out from under your nose while you're telling everyone "It'll be okay."

I won't forget him. I'm better off for knowing him. If nothing else, he'll live on through me. I'll make him proud. I'll remember what we'd talked about and I won't let his letters fall into disrepair.

I've lit the candle he'd given me in remembrance. I just don't know what else to do.

HE'S GOING THE DISTANCE.

HE'S GOING FOR SPEED.

My day has felt a lot like this.

I'm racing, and pacing, and plotting my course.
I'm fighting, and biting, and riding on my horse.

I've passed the 1.5 mile run needed for my PT Exam, and in under thirteen minutes, without asthma medication. After doing the required sixty sit-ups, no less.

In addition, I got my chocolates sent-out. They're solid milk-chocolate, covered in dark ganache and rolled in toasted almonds. They look like this:


I put them in little jewel-boxes bound with red twine and wrapped in Newspaper. I even lined it with neatly-sliced tissue-paper. It was a nice touch, and it was quite cheap.

I'm now working on braiding a bracelet. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing, but I -do- know I'm going to do it to the Gorillaz. I'm craving some Ghost Train right now.

Also, you know what I love? Someone who can be assertive with me.
Dear God, I love being challenged a little when I need it.
I got it this morning, and I got it good.

I wouldn't have it any other way. I think I grew clear-up to the next rung on my ladder, so to speak, and it just took a good scolding and a widened perspective.

Long story short, I grew today, and I'm braiding red silk and beads of jasper.

Premature.

I was a bit premature in my verdict last night, and with the help of Catherine, some straightforward speaking with Emily, and a bit of introspect on my part I've salvaged the evening.

I find I have two lightning rods in the place of my arms.

I'll tell you more when I'm not waiting for dark chocolate to cool.
It's a bit of a silly story, really.

-

Plot Over "Time."

Tonight, I've begun thinking a lot about time.

I went for my evening jog.

The moon was full, and that stroked me affectionately and put wind in my lungs.

I began to think about why I felt the first pangs of somber thought heavy in my heart.

Time is very finite, I suddenly decided.
You hear it said so often that it seems like a very shallow observation.

It's like a clock's face - divided into little portions and measurements and calibrations - each of those could be spent on something, but it all adds up to three-hundred sixty degrees and twenty-four hours, no matter how you slice it.

Goodwill, love, affection, effort, conviction, trust, faith...

These are all infinite and boundless things, certainly.

But they're all plotted over time, moving infinitely upward over a fixed length.

Some of My Best Friends Take Quizzes.

~*About You*~

Name: Zack Chaise Harmeyer.
Birth date: September ninth, 1992
Age: Nineteen.
Country of origin: United States of America.
Town Born in: Shreveport, Louisiana
Race/ancestry: Dutch, Italian, Native America - I'm a bit of a mutt.
Religion: Christian, but firmly against organized religion, and a bit of a dabbler spiritually.
Height: 5'10".
Eye color: Brown.
Hair color and style: Brown and short. I wear it Different Ways
Skin Tone: Swarthy.
Tattoos: None.
Eye-sight: Terrible at night. I need corrective lenses behind the wheel.
Names/screen-names you go by: "Ichirin Kumoi" and "Blue.Riding.Hood"
Explain your username: I began to pander under the name of Ichirin Kumoi after choosing her as my character in a match of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I really liked it, and it stuck. When the name sank in within my group of friends, I bought a Shemagh akin to Ichirin's trademark hood and began wearing it. It's blue, and people noticed in Missouri and dubbed me "Blue Riding Hood" for wearing it.

How would you describe your personality?
Opinionated. Ambitious. Stubborn. Old-fashioned.

How would other people describe you?
I'm not really sure. Stubborn. Meddling. Helpful?

Are you Afraid of anything/have any phobias?
I hate being unable to fix something. I'm also afraid of getting into a fight I can't win, or being turned into Trucker's Delight if I ever decide to walk to one end of the country to the next.

What's your favourite physical feature about yourself?
Nose. I've got a good nose.

What's your most hated physical feature about yourself?
I don't like my feet. I also don't like when my lips dry.

Do you have any physical disabilities/ailments?
A slightly hypertrophied heart. Asthma. A cracked sternum.

Do you have any SPECIAL/FREAKY Abilities 8D?
Not in particular. I mean, nothing special. Kind of homemaking stuff.

Do you have any allergies?
Ragweed.

Are you the first, middle, last, or only child? And who are your siblings?
Oldest. I have a younger sister.

How many cousins do you have? Big family?
I have many. Only four are worth mentioning. Eric, who's a stoner. Tori, who's intelligent and strongwilled. And finally, Drake and his sister Alexandria who have been royally fucked by their negligent parents.

Do you WANT to have children? If so how many?
It's not a decision I'd make alone.

What was your dream job when you were a kid?
I wanted to be a traveller. I'd asked my parents to give me the money they'd saved for college when I was eighteen, so that I could tour the Amazon and trade things. They'd lost all the money when the economy collapsed when I was about sixteen.

What is your dream job now?
Doctor.

What are your current responsibilities?
Fix. Work. Stay fit and well. Keep the apartment perfect.


~*Food*~

What item of food would you eat the most of?
Soup and bread are a close tie. Bread probably wins.

What is your favourite flavour ever?
Vanilla.

Do you like Meat?
Yes, but not usually alone. Fish is my favorite. Salmon in particular.

What do you usually eat for Breakfast?
Coffee.

What is your favourite dinner meal?
I really like stuffed pasta, but I seldom get to enjoy it.

What cuisines do you like best?
Chinese. I also love very bizarre pizza - like broccoli, and eggplant.

What foods do you HATE?
I've never been super-fond of squash, but it can be done right. Zucchini's not high up on there either. Green beans are something I can eat but avoid. Oysters are sort of gross because people seem gross eating them.

What food can you not resist?
Hot-and-Sour Soup.

What would be your last meal?
Something really convoluted and stupid, as to delay my execution. Like a geoduck covered in breadfruit and fingered citron.

Do you like any 'freaky' food combinations?
...Sometimes, I put marmalade or blackberry jam on meats or egg. I learned it from Liam.


~*Clothing/Style*~

What is your general fashion style? (eg: punk, glam, sporty, girly etc)
Something generically dapper with beat-up jeans and less beat-up shoes.

What item of clothing do you wear the most?
Gymshorts.

Pants or skirts/dresses?
...I've got hairy, manly legs now. Pants.

How much of your skin do you like to show/cover up?
The aforementioned legs make me a little leery about posing nude. I'd rather be shirtless.

What items of jewelery do you wear most?
Rings. I only own one. I used to wear a rosary, but it broke.

What item can you NOT leave your house without?
Wallet. Keys. If I'm headed to a Job interview, Cardboard Notebook.

Hair up or Hair down?
Down. Curls are sexy down.

~* Life Style*~

What time do you usually wake up?
3 - 5:00 AM.

What time do you usually go to sleep?
11:30 PM.

How often do you bathe/shower?
Daily - I work out and thus smell like musk and cologne if I don't.

Do you exercise regularly?
Yes. The military's kind of demanding on me.

How often do you go out drinking?
Sometimes, if Claire's drunk, I'll have a Scotch and Coke. Never drunk, though. And never twice in a week.

What do you do most in your spare time?
I work out and cook. A month ago, Masturbation'd be on this list, but frankly, I'm too busy these days.

Name your hobbies:
Listening to music, doodling, blogging, sending postcards, cooking, working-out.

How many pets have you had in your life? (not including farm animals/live-stock)
I've had one, two, three, four, five...six, seven dogs. Seven dogs. I had to literally count. Two cats. A box-lizard named Che Guevara. A handful of anoles. A turtle. Countless $2 fish, too.

How many houses have you lived in in your life?
...One...Two, three, four, five...six, seven, eight...Nine...? I think nine.

What sort of 'vehicle' do you own?
I had an Escort. I've since parted ways with it and currently jog everywhere.

What's your current job?
I used to work construction. There's a chance I'll work for Animal Control while my Military Career is finalized.


~*Your Favorite-?*~

Color(s): Orange.
Animal: Cats. I really love cats.
Season: Winter.
Scenery: Industrial, and Warehouse Districts.
Plant/flower: Feverfew, Cottonweed, Dandelions, Rafflesia, Fig Trees.
Sweet/treat: Gummy-candies, licorice, and lozenges.
Game: .flow, Getamped, Minecraft, Terraria, Killing Floor, and a lot of other things I can no longer handle.
Sport: Soccer.
Shop: TJ Maxx.
Brand: Sonoma, and Vagabond.
Cultures: Kurdish. Bosniak. Silly things like that. They seem like victims.
Town/City: Old Forge. What a cool name. I'd love writing letters more if I lived in Old Forge.
Style of music: Jazz. Electronic stuff. Instrumental and Orchestral.

Favourite Songs: "Be Monophobic with Me", "Dead Girl's Bebop", "Gold Dust", "Discopathology", and "She's a Lady" as of late. I work out to those ones.
Favourite Movies: Collateral, the Iron Giant, the Three Amigos,
Favourite TV shows: Two-and-a-Half Men.
Favourite Animes: Azumanga Daioh!, Potemayo, Aishiteruze Baby, and Cowboy Bebop were the only ones I'd actively watched ever on my own. I used to catch Mirai Nikki and Kaiji: Ultimate Survivor with John, but he's way too pissed-off at the world to be good company as of late.
Favourite Books: Atlas Shrugged, Anthem, Lolita, Les Miserables, 1984, Fahrenheit 451.
Favourite Ships/Pairings: Sabitsuki and Smile, Ichirin and Captain Murasa. Kanaya and Vriska.
Favourite place to Holiday/visit: The Candlelight District.
Favourite place to relax/feel free: In bed. Oh, I could not-move for hours.

~*Ideals in the Opposite Sex*~

Height: A little shorter than me.
Weight: Enough to squeeze. I like a little bit of curve~
Body shape: Look at old paintings. Rounded, beautiful legs and arms like that. Soft.
Hair colour/style: Auburn. Kind of red. Strawberry. Those are nice.
Eye colour: I'm not picky so long as I can see something in them.
Style: Flapper. Hippie. All that jazz.
Personality traits: Smart. Appreciative and accepting of help, but not in need of a crutch. Something a little whimsical to balance out my pseudo-Randian leanings and get-it-done nature.

~*Ideals in the SAME Sex*~
(YES the Same! But you can take it as 'what you dream you could look like yourself' same diff )

Height: I like where I'm at.
Weight: I like where I'm at here, too.
Body shape: I'd like to have abs and a more-defined chest. I'm working on both.
Hair color/style: I sometimes wish my hair didn't match my eyes, but I'm proud to be natural. If I could pick anything, I'd probably be auburn or a nice cornsilk-ish color.
Eye color: I like 'em. I've got doe-eyes.
Style: I wish I owned a nicer pair of shoes.
Personality traits: I could do to be less stubborn and outright. And to have a repertoire of jokes than don't leave you facepalming until you bruise.


~*what's the last -*~

Time you laughed: Today.
Cried: Last night.
Screamed: Three days ago, jogging.
Shared: I recieved a beautiful collection of Keita's work from Rigel.
The last person you talked to: Hjalmar.
Person to call you: Emily.
Person you yelled at: Liam's friends, in exaggerated theatrics.
Time you acted childish: Probably today.
Food you've eaten: Chicken-Tortilla Soup.
Book you've read: Psychic Self-Defense by Dion Fortune.
Shop you entered: Price-Chopper.
Thing you regret doing: I wish I could somehow 'click' with Predysipe.
Thing you watched on TV: Two-and-a-Half Men.
Comment you squee-d over: "I'm feeling better, and it's thanks to you."
Person you mentally hugged: I don't dish mental hugs so much as I anxiously fawn-over.
Thing you wrote? (other than this meme): "I can read it just perfectly! I apologize in turn if I'm a little messy. I typically use lines, but I felt obliged to freehand it this time. I think things like cooking, painting, and sewing and many other overlookable accommodations are dying arts. They're skills that make you stand-apart from others when they're used. I feel I should tell you a bit about myself-"
Thing you drew: A nautilus snail-shrimp thing.
Thing you read: Gunshow

~*Can You-*~

Do a handstand: Yes. Not for long, though.
Raise one eyebrow and not the other: Do it all the time to imply skepticism or charm.
Dance: BADLY. I can Desert Knuckleswagger like a motherfucker.
Sing: Some slow, folksy stuff like Everclear.
Whistle: Quite well. And often, as I work.
Cook: Pretty well, but I'm no master chef and I tend to eat my mistakes without boasting about them.
Speak a different language: Nothing fluently.
Do any magic Tricks: I can pass my hand through fire. That always spooks kids.
Put together DIY boxed furniture: Yes.
Use Power tools: Yes.
Write a Resume: Yes.
Rollerblade: No, but I can break my ankles.
Skateboard: Nope.
Surf: No.
Navigate: No, but I can get in a car accident.
Survive in the Wild: I could probably get by eating a lot of not entirely edible plants.
Survive without your cell phone: I don't even own one.
Survive without your internet: I have.

~*Randomly*~

What are you wearing right now?
White shirt, Gymshorts, Tennis Sneakers.

How do you feel right now?
Tired. Lovesick. A little frustrated and pent-up.

Did you brush your teeth today? D<
This morning, in the shower.

One RANDOM fact about you:
I just spent the evening drawing amusing caricatures of my friends. I have no idea how to draw Catherine, but I imagine she looks like Yuko Ota. Liam's just Karkat Vantas with a mess of brown-blonde curls.

Some of My Best Friends Are Artists.