The joy of writing

After reading about climate change in the paper today, I decided to take a nap on my chair, my head resting on the study table. As the circulation of blood to the head slowly began to drop, I began to dream. Since I don’t remember anything from the dream, I am going to end this post abruptly with a quote from the fat guy from The Simpsons.

“It’s so simple to be wise… just think of something stupid to say and then don’t say it”. Have a nice day. Merry Christmas.


The mysterious black box


If there’s anything 2001: A Space Odyssey has taught me, it’s that black boxes(excluding coffins) evoke curiosity. There’s a mystery behind them(may include coffins). For some people, it evokes a little fear(definitely coffins).


But there’s nothing to fear about my new black box, a.k.a Cajón. It is a percussion instrument made of wood. It doubles as a short stool. In fact, you have to sit on it while you play, a sort of musical bonding between wood and ass.



This is not what it sounds like. This is a bad recording of the black box.

How weird are you?

I feel like the term “weird” is being thrown around a lot lately. I use it a lot to describe myself. It’s become a hip thing to say, “I’m weird” or “you’re weird”. Similarly there’s the “I’m bad at math” or “I suck at cooking” brags. I think it’s awesome that people are willing to reveal their negatives and joke about it, but does everything you think is weird really qualify as weird? As a grown, 28 year old straight male, I’ve been thinking about some really weird shit lately 🙂 .

The other day I was watching an interview and it suddenly crossed my mind that my cousins never let me paint their nails. It hurt me a little bit. I thought to myself, why didn’t they ever let me do it?. Did they think I’ll screw it up? I mean, my hands had the precision of automated-computer-chip-manufacturing-machines(I might have a little Parkinson’s now). I used to do Yoga like a pro. No one could beat me at dodge ball (this rant right here, qualifies as weird).

Unfortunately, I can’t reveal all my weirdness here because I’m paranoid about my sister reading this blog anonymously. WordPress says there’s a lot of traffic to this blog from the country where she’s at. I love her, but she’s a little unstable.