Jeff-fa-fa!

I sat down to write. And had nothing to say. And then I made a spelling error. Thankfully, my trusty shadow (AKA, little sister) caught it before I made a complete and utter fool of myself by publishing my post with a grammatical mistake!!! (Notice the extra exclamation points, which show just how much I do not mean what I'm writing. Yes, I'm like that.)

Read a book recently. Warbreaker. Good book. Lots of cool characters. Good plot. Liked the writing style. You should read it. If you heard it here first, I'll be shocked, but hey. It could happen. (She caught another one. She's like my personal spell-checker. I'm, oh, so blessed, aren't I?)

I've been working on a particular story since coming home from college. I don't really have anything else to say about it. It's just been on my mind because I can't seem to make much progress lately. Frustrations abound. Well. . . sorta. Yes, sorta. I know it's not a real word. :P But honestly, what makes a word real? It definitely has a specific connotation.

I've lost contact with most of my friends. It happened quite a while ago. I find it interesting that so long as I don't have any sort of friendly contact with people that I miss them an awful lot less than if I have a little. If I only get a little, I miss them way too much than is comfortable.

I'm like a seventh wheel around here. . . Or would it be ninth? /shrug Guess it depends on who's around, eh? Indeed. Good answer, smarty-pants.

Have you ever wondered what terrible things feel like? Like, say, getting shot? Not that you want to get shot, but just an idle curiosity of what that experience is like. It's like that conversation we had such a long time ago. If you get beheaded, how long does it take for you to actually die? Are you aware of stuff? Can you move your face muscles? I have a lot of curiosity.

My brother calls me morbid. Every now and then I decide to play the part. ;)