actuality.log

(Ed. Note: This is one of the only posts on this journal that has not been written by me. Technically, it was penned by me, but it’s all a figment of Crayola’s vivid imagination. Actually, it’s more of a cross between her cutesy […]

but I’m someone’s child.
This has been a week that’s brought about some changes. For one, for the first time ever, I bought a coworker a Christmas gift. That isn’t news in […]

Not to sound narcissistic or anything, but sometimes I just wish that the world would pause and revolve around me for a little while. You know, genuinely be aware of how I am doing, or what I am going through, and care enough […]

(A) paramount. It’s the only reason I make love!
(B) delightful. I enjoy them immensely, but they aren’t the be-all and end-all of our intimacy.
(C) immaterial. I don’t care about them; I derive great contentment from the closeness we share.
(D) a necessary evil. I […]

(This post will seem somewhat hackneyed, but that’s only because it is.)
I did a good thing yesterday. Something that I am sure my parents would be proud of if they knew; […]

There’s this girl with a soft, pretty face (and gentle smile) I run into often who seems to have a penchant for these huge, ugly black boots. I mean, there she is looking all sweet and dainty… with those grotesque things trying to […]

(This is a true story from a bus stop. Well, mostly true.)
(To set the scene, let me tell you that the following happens as it is snowing… copiously.)
[…]

There’s a teeny black thong with a teenier red bow tied to it hung on my nearest neighbour’s door handle.
How is one supposed to interpret this?
[…]

I’m going to keep this short because the harsh glow of the screen annoys me. And, by “annoys me,” I mean that I am on the verge of throwing up.
You see, […]