Pants

I got a late birthday gift yesterday. It was a book about pants. "Fascinating!" You say. Yes, yes it is.

Caps And More Caps

I'm Going To Capitalize The First Letter Of Every Word In This Post. Why, You Ask? I'll Tell You. For Spite.

I Didn't Sleep Well Last Night

I think Shakespeare knows what he's talking about.


Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
- William Shakespeare, Macbeth

The Things We Do For Spite

I was thinking today of all the things in my life that I do or don't do simply because I don't want to give another person the satisfaction of seeing me doing or not doing them. But in the end, doesn't the other person control the outcome, even if they don't intend to? Probably. Yet at the same time, spite can be lots of fun.

Dream Writing

I apparently wrote a script while I was asleep last night. When I woke up, I had an idea in my head that I wrote down before I did anything else. People tell me that it's pretty good. I'm kind of weirded out by the whole thing, but who can argue with results?

Art

I miss painting. I used to paint and do a lot of visual art in High School. However, it's been a long time since I was in High School. I think sometimes of going and buying some oil paints and just going at it, but I don't know what I would paint anymore. Sadness.