What do I do with the shirts that have sentimental value but are kind of embarrassingly worn out or no longer fit?
Like is it okay to donate my Saratoga High School Music Department polo tee? What about old Red Zone tshirts?
What about my Admit Weekend shirt that’s ripped from the time it got caught in the figure 8 knot at the climbing wall? WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THROW IT AWAY!?
No but really. What am I supposed to do with these shirts?
Another conversation with Seth:
give me a story seed
Seth: bison stampede
i can work with that
~~~~ 7 minutes later ~~~~
me: how loose of an interpretation of “bison” can i do
me: can they be some made up hairy lumbering animal being chased by dragons?
me: i feel like dragons would make bison stampede
if you just wanted an excuse to write about dragons
you could have asked
me: SOMEHOW MY HEAD JUMPED THERE
The world can always use more dragons.
And made up hairy lumbering animals.
A conversation between me and Seth:
why haven’t we co-written a hilarious screenplay yet
i feel like we could
Seth: want to write a winter one-act?
me: i’d bring structure and anal-retentive detail
you’d bring hilarity
So I guess that’s in the works now?
(He also reminded me that NaNoWriMo exists, and I have come to the realization that this year is as good a year as any to attempt it.)
Occasionally I notice something that ruins a perfectly decent song. Well okay, “ruins” is a strong word. It’s just something you don’t notice until you do, then you can’t help but notice.
The most recent case of this: “Nothing” by The Script. There are two parts in the chorus where the singer/narrator uses “you/your” instead of the “she/her” he uses through the rest of the song.
And my mates are all there trying to calm me down
‘Cause I’m shouting your name all over town
I’m swearing if I go there now
I can change your mind, turn it all around
And I know that I’m drunk but I’ll say the words
And she‘ll listen this time even though they’re slurred
So I’ll dial her number and confess to her
I’m still in love
But all I heard was nothing
She said nothing
Oh, I wanted words but all I heard was nothing
Goddamn it. And it could’ve easily been “shouting her name” and “change her mind” but no.
This is one of a multitude of reasons that listening to the radio is an unfortunate experience.
It’s time to choose between the lesser of two evils: learn a scripting language for VMD, or waste a lot of time clicking through the VMD GUI to run my data analyses?
For the moment, the former is winning out. But reading the guide to core commands in VMD is boring to say the least…
I can’t remember how long it’s been like this — since high school, definitely, so at least 6 years — but the neighbor’s ventilation system dims the lights in my house when it starts up, makes a shitton of noise for twenty minute intervals, then shuts off into blissful silence for about ten minutes before starting the cycle again.
It makes for fitful peace when I’m trying to focus.
Does it count as disturbing the peace? Do they even know how goddamn annoying their air conditioning is?
Just as we call it “Commencement” instead of “Graduation,” I decided this:
Let’s not say goodbye; we’ll just say, “See you later!”
I have a lot of dreams about tunnels and caves. When I was little, I had a lot of different kinds of dreams about flying — not just floating through the air, riding flying creatures and using various things for wings.
The novel-length story I started working on recently centers around dream realities and the way our subconscious structures our desires and places them into the context of a dream world. It makes me wonder why I dream about tunnels and caves… what am I hiding from? Where am I tunneling to?
AND NOW I CALL UPON MY RELATIVELY SILENT READERSHIP. I know you’re there. Reading this in your Google Reader. Yeah. I’m talkin’ to you. What do you dream about? The weird and the mundane, I want to hear about it all.