Is it me or is every zombie movie or TV show that was made in the last 30 years, just a remake of The Warriors, but with Zombies instead of gangs?
The same people who are opposed to the U.S. using drones to kill Americans proven to be siding with terrorist groups abroad were the ones who were mad Clinton didn't kill Bin Laden without proof.
This morning and afternoon I felt awful. Stuffy, sniffling, cold and achy. I slept as much as I could, then I went and bought spicy food. Then I walked outside in 30 degree weather in a short sleeved shirt and exaggerated my breathing. I feel absolutely fine right now (aside from being wide awake). Modern medicine!
I use Facebook as a source of amusement, instigation and at times to start trouble, but the last three months have lead me to believe that about ten percent of my friends need to be medicated. Honestly.
Today, on a friend's status there were a few comments that bordered on being racist. I was starting to get angry, until I reached the final on at that moment. It was the most uneducated statement, made by a moronic individual, which I quickly realized wasn't made out of anger or hate, but just some displaced aggression towards a group based on the teachings of this person's family. Sad that the circle will never be unbroken, because it takes education to break the cycle of hate that is bred within some families.
My sudden acne breakout or whatever this is, has me so completely depressed, it's unbearable. I'm not usually vain in any way, but this has me bordering on becoming a hermit. I can't even imagine how kids handle this in high school. I guess I was lucky back then and I'm paying for some horrible karmic downfall now.
My recent delving into the horror genre has had an interesting effect on me. I find that watching horror films really brings out some inner happiness. Not in a macabre way, but I find horror to be almost the same release as comedy or porn. There is some sort of endorphin release that actually brings happiness to me psyche and a feeling of calm. Maybe it's natural or maybe it's sick, but it works.
I wanted to write a blog about my grandmother being 100, but there is this odd thing holding me back. It's similar to my father's refusal to write about her life. Neither of us possess the power of an O. Henry short and we both fear that our final chapter will be hers.
As you can see from the title, I got sidetracked with these thoughts.
I spent about an hour looking at photographs of spectacular places on Earth and reading about philosophers who said so much, with so few words. I wish I could experience the first and have the slightest ability to perform the other.
Goodnight Moon!
Comments
Post a Comment