Acknowledging the Unbearable Wait

If you are wondering why there is still no Paddington sonnet, just consider that the commissioned author is the one on the left.

"A Rather Shapeless Hat"

I don't post pictures anymore unless I take them myself, but I really wanted to keep the raging, palpable Paddington hype going before the big release of "A Sonnet Called Paddington" (working title), so I had to compromise. Technically I took this picture. The magnifying icon that I forgot to move off the screen is proof. Please enjoy this artistic interpretation of Paddington sans Wellington boots.

A Bear By Any Other Name Would Not Smell As Sweet

You really shouldn't spend a lot of time reading this stuff out loud, the world is full of enough noise already; however, I feel that it is important for you to read the following two words out loud: Paddington Bear.

Seriously, if you are still reading this and you have not said "Paddington Bear," stop reading and just say it. You have to say it out loud. Thinking it and chuckling to yourself doesn't count. Actually, say it again. Paddington Bear.

I recently discovered that I have spent the better part of my life completely smitten by Paddington Bear, and I have decided to be proactive about it and write him a sonnet.

I can't decide on Petrarchan or Shakespearean.

More to come. And by "more to come," I mean, "a sonnet about Paddington Bear is to come."

Hey February, Pick On Someone Your Own Size

I don't have time to talk about it, but that has never stopped me in the past. My old photography teacher told me that I am artistic, which I thought meant I was good at art, but it turns out that it just means I'm sensitive.

My source of Northern Wisdom told me that our generation is subject to "quarter-life crises," and that was good to hear because from the way I have been feeling I thought I was going to die at forty. I hope that last one made sense because I thought it was really funny.

I wrote a poem about all of "this" for a class. It's one of those "I don't know what I am saying yet" kind of poems. It was supposed to be free verse, but I stopped short of polishing up the meter because I had other things to put off. I hope you like it.

A Title would be Venturing a Guess

I hope this poem takes a long time to write
Because if I finish it too soon, well…
I will be in trouble; I will be forced
To move on and do something else
And since this is a poem I will not lie,
Right now I feel like I would rather
Drop out of school and get a job
Than figure out this stupid business letter
Assignment. Last Thursday I told my friend
That I was acting like a big baby,
That I just needed to buck up and do it.
But that was when it wasn’t due tomorrow.
I find it’s easy to be optimistic
When the future is an idea,
And it’s easy to get depressed
When I stop to identify the problem
And I’m ashamed of what I think is wrong.

Tonight I can sleep soundly, knowing that the out-of-focus puzzle pieces are kept at bay by my ever-vigilant micro machines army man w/ a bazooka.

This stuff doesn't get old.

Happy Valentine's Day from the Oxford Essential Quotations Dictionary

Love is the fart
Of every heart:
It pains a man when 'tis kept close,
And others doth offend, when 'tis let loose.

- John Suckling

I guess this doesn't really need a caption.

Like a Sloth with Diarrhea...

Last night I went to bed with a headache and an upset stomach and dreamed of chicken burgers with mustard, barbeque sauce and onions. This morning I woke up with a headache and an outright pissed stomach and decided to let the chicken patty go to Problem Solving for me. I will get the notes from him later.

I have experienced the intestinal violence of bodily thinking twice about bad meat in the past, but right now I feel like I am in a long-standing verbally-abusive relationship with my digestive system, and it is time to get out. Hopefully I can catch the Wellness Center before they close all day for lunch. Lunch... eugh...

This Month Has Reduced Me to Near-Pithy Observations

Nevertheless, I feel the need to tell my readers that the chicken burgers are to be avoided. Furthermore, it is doubtful that my chicken patty came from one chicken. And in conclusion, finishing up with a fried banana was neither necessary nor prudent.

Holy Crap!

School, in February, gets busy.

I'll tell you about it sometime.

Man, How 'Bout that Super Bowl?

Yeah, that pizza was something else.

The Incarcerated Commode

If there is one thing I have learned from my parents, its "never trust a toilet."