From every eclipse that stares at me from the other side of a paper cup of espresso, I light a match beneath the kettle, and for every set of lips that come attached and equipped with that program to seed success, I bleed my epics with a slow drip.

My heart isn't in this job anymore.

I want to go back to Iowa.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/robert-creamer/frightened-by-mccains-pos_b_125111.html

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I'm aging.

Having a fulfilling job does not always translate into have a meaningful life.

But it helps. Helps me forget at least what has transpired in the past few months and how my blood boils every time I think about her. At least now I have a distraction that is much more purpose-filled than killing monsters and getting loot.

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You, who are smarter and wiser than I.

Why is Muse the best musical group I've ever heard in my FUCKING LIFE

I'm interning somewhere, sometime.
Also, I'm deleting this thing. I don't use it anymore, so there's really no reason to keep it around.

Go lead significant lives.

To see the eyes of god in the hands of man, to see the reins of history back in our palms; this is the purpose of science, and the dream of science fiction.

R.I.P. Sir Arthur C. Clarke. May the Light of Other Days shine upon our misbegotten race for as long as we dream.

I'm in a financial fucking crisis. I'm dissapearing to Mexico. Y'all have good life.