I got brownies!

I've been sort of tired, busy, and apathetic lately (I fell asleep on the floor yesterday), and haven't been blogging so much, but I think my family's birthday gifts warrant mention.

From my grandparents: a bathrobe. To be honest, this is nothing near the strangest in the family history. My mother's side is generally a little more reasonable (no Uncle Andrew), but notable standouts include a set of combs (seriously, there were like 11 of them, all in this spacey metallic blue) and a can of aerosol deodorant ('See, I have the same one! Now we can smell the same!'). This also happens to be the second time they have given me a bathrobe.

Hm. You know, when I read that over, it really doesn't seem that unusual. Bit of a trend, actually. Gifts with meaning.

From my dad: Okay, I'm not completely sure of the most basic rules of parenting, but I should think that not allowing your daughter to wear her telephone number on her chest ranks pretty high. So it's probably not a good idea to give her three different shirts with her (nick)name, address, phone number, e-mail address, and musical instruments of choice proudly emblazoned across the front. Of course, the shirts are all far too large, and there will be no giving these to thrift shops.

One might think that things don't get any more beautiful, but the fun didn't even stop there. More personalized items were to come: paper and office supplies primarily, but also a stack of bizarre cards with moose on them. My reaction was difficult to gauge (sort of a bewildered speechlessness), so I'm not sure my dad realizes just how deliriously happy this makes me.

From my mom: It's a clock. That runs counterclockwise. The numbers are all on backwards, and the hands move in the wrong direction.

With hazelnuts actually.

The amount of cutlery I have in my room is staggering.

My notebook has not been completely silent lately, nor have I sworn off the late-night typing sessions, but still it has been nearly eleven months since I last posted a piece of writing.

While it is true that I have slowed the pace of my entire blog, the main reason for this remains that I cannot trust the Internet with my best work. My best work is always very much unfinished, and it would not do for another to steal my children away even before they are fully grown. (Which never actually happens.) I only ever post the bits and pieces here, the forgotten, the abandoned, the clutter in the corners of my hard drive.

If this seems a convenient excuse for poor quality, I must admit that my 'best work' is not much better. The difference is the amount of time I invest in finding slightly better words. (Blog posts are generally at the very opposite end of the language scale.)

I also have a paranoid fear of sharing anything current. The moment I show it to somebody, it becomes an established fact, a finished piece, carved in stone. Or so I seem to believe.

So much for that. I'm off to take a nap. Perhaps I'll come back soon and talk about my new books.

Why would you call this a 'cold'?

IT'S THE BEASTIE!

'Dad, in America, children have four rights: education, shelter, food, and stories. Read us some stories.'

-brudda

It's time for kids' books again! This is one of the most amazing ever. Be sure to read aloud with a heavy Scottish accent.

Also: check out the labels! I've broken my 'random useless pieces of uselessness' category into two: 'random useless pieces of uselessness' and 'highly unprofessional reviews'! For easy access of my most brilliant criticism.

Food OCD

I remember there used to be a commercial on when I was a kid. As is so common with advertising, I haven't the faintest idea what the product was...maybe cars or insurance or something. In the commercial, two executives in suits were standing next to each other; for some reason, they were holding slices of pizza. Then one of them paused, flashed a grin, and made an announcement that stirred my youthful soul.

'Crust first!'

He then proceeded to bite into the slice in exactly this fashion, and my little heart swelled as I gazed upon it. I, too, was a loyal and lonely devotee of that practice.

I've stopped eating pizza that way now, mainly because the older I get, the more I like the crust. But I still think we should have some kind of club. We could sit around a table and discuss our individual obsessiveness. Personally, I would always eat the crust, then begin at the point again and work my way through, but I've heard tell of those who start at the tip, then eat the crust at the halfway point. Everything goes in the Crust First Club.

Except people who don't eat the crust at all. They are the poor bastard children of the gastronomic OCD world.

And while we're on the subject: corn.

Hey, you knew it was coming up. I'm not actually picky about corn at all, but I know most of the world is divided over this issue. So what do you guys think: typewriter or spiral style?

My family has always believed that food should be an adventure. An adventure rife with urgency and peril.

Depressed about Blogging

Nothing ever changes. Nothing nothing nothing. Nothing changes because I don't know how to make things better.

Why must we be so impossible to satisfy?

I'm delirious again. I recognize it, but I cannot stop myself. And yes, I knew you were there, at that very instant. And yes, I knew you were going to talk to me, to speak those unique, particular words. But what good would it have done to say so? It's not like I'm always there.

If anyone asks, I guess I could just blame the Layers again, but it isn't really their fault this time. And we all know how much fun I have trying to explain the Layers anyway.

I'm sure poets cannot analyse their own work. That's why they write poetry, dammit.

EDIT: They say things have to get worse before....

Breaking News:

HOT CHICK PERFORMS ACROBATIC FEATS IN CROWDED SUBWAY; NOBODY NOTICES

Sparrow Despairs for Humanity

A young, attractive female was spotted swinging around the ceiling handholds on the orange line early this afternoon. Said female was apparently dressed appropriately for a workout, but after a few minutes of intense gymnastic action, left engaged spectators with the impression that she would be better suited to leaping off skyscrapers and battling bad guys in the dead of night.

The grand total of engaged spectators among two metro cars: four.

A first-hand account of this remarkable occurence comes from one Wistful Sparrow, a young woman who was visibly distraught over the unimpressive audience.

'It's just difficult for me to understand. I mean, this girl is right in front of their faces, flying around on the ceiling of the metro car. How could they not notice? How could anyone possibly be so blind?'

Further enquiry left unanswered the question of whether this incident was a recurring stunt. Updates will be reported on RFS as soon as possible.

This is kind of stupid and I think I might stop doing it if I don't start thinking of better ways to end my posts.

Best Sign Ever.

Jacob: 'I get all my stuff from China.' (Pauses.) '...That was a cheap joke.'

-- http://fuknus.chrisdamitio.com/?p=2496

This even beats out the one I found in grade seven. I have no words for it.

Also, this is my 365th post. Reflections and Fuzzy Slippers, now in page-a-day calendar format! Unless you need it for a leap year, in which case you'll have to wait a few days.

I've decided to start labelling all my fruit.

Creeping toward Nerdvana.

Dad: I barely even know who Sting is.
Mom: It's alright. He was kind of after your time.
Dad: I mean, I always...I always thought Michael Bowie was the lead singer of Sting.

I swear I become more of a nerd every day of my life. A true nerd, that is, not merely an academic overachiever, escaping from the headaches of all the P classes (Physics, Precal, Phys Ed and Phrench) into a fantasy world of solitary revelry. I am a hardcore sci-fi junkie, a hopeless internet addict, and an individual of what many would deem desperately poor musical taste. Seriously, it's just getting worse and worse.

I've spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with this aspect of my character, but I realize now that it really defines me as a person. It's part of who I am, and there is no changing it. I'm going to have to tell my parents someday, although something tells me that they won't be surprised, but I wanted you guys to find out first. You have been such good friends to me thus far; I knew you would support me in this.

That is that. I have plenty of new blog ideas, some of which will hopefully become realities once this busy spell ends, but for now I must away.

'Nerdery' is a good word too.