Uneasy truce with myself. I fall asleep thinking of historical figures and then jerk awake realising that they're all dead. I'm not quite sure why I think of them as alive at all; I probably think of everything as its own present tense. What of me? What of my present tense?

(Smiling) I don't even know my own body well. When will the grocery bag prove too heavy, when is the oxygen enough, when have I eaten too much and how much of a weight gain to fat. When do I stop, start, go?

And as for the mind, it is its own animal. I am not the same person 2 months on end...

When I grow up, I want to be Lincoln.

I walk down to the taxi queue after work and sometimes I am the only person smiling. These last few weeks have been good for me.
I feel effervescent

And may I squeal and add that I love the proto indo european language. I want to hustle the authors of all those papers and fables and speak it out to me. For while it's exciting to read about glottals and hypothesised consonants, I want to hear it being said aloud
Spoken by they who had horses, counted to twenty and thought about me, mine, you , you both, ours...
(dreamy)

Shame shame!

Do you know I never truly understood enantiomers as a kid? I look at it now and I understand perfectly and also hence understanding that what I did think about it earlier was all bunkum.

And might I add, the subject is fascinating!

I was wondering why the weiging scale was being rude to me. I have the answer! It's my mentos addiction. Grr

In other news the bunnies are being little binky babies. I love them , I love them, I love them.

suffering dance withdrawal

Little white bunny hops up to me every morning and bumps nose against my foot. I don't respond? Again. No response? Tiny nip. I respond. I respond.

I am not so much of an introvert as I thought. I do get some of my energy from people around me. I like the energy bouncing around harmlessly. Neither a pregnant atmosphere nor a cold vaccuum.

There are fewer great and memorable characters in contemporary books.