I'm an idiot. I admit it. I'm an idiot when it comes to reading and dealing with people.

But sometimes I'm a happy manic (though irritable) idiot. I've been weirdly manic for the last couple of days. I think I'm startingot even out, cause I got a normal amount of sleep last night, and I don't feel like tap dancing all the way to work.

I was browsing the local comic book store, and came across Action Philosophers Featuring Nietzsche, Ayn Rand, Jung, Freud, St. Augustine, and other philosophers.
There was a huge dude on the top of the cover, in the middle of a wrestling dive, with the dialog bubble "PLATO SMASH!!!!" above him.


I had to leave the store quickly before I disolved into fits of giggles.


Right now I'm Just chillin. Trying not to be obtuse. Trying not to be such a girl. I realize I'm starting to do some of the clingy things that I despise in my fellow females. Trying to figure out whether I want to make a new painting or go out with Sarah tonight, and sneak my sketchbook along. So while I'm trying to decide, I'm listening to some of my dad's songs that I downloaded. Like, Devil went down to Georgia.

Funny thing? My brother always told me that he thought the devil's song sounded better. I kinda like it better too. Less country. I don't really like country sound.
"I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul, cause I think I'm better 'n you."


Oh yeah. I realized that I know so little of myself, that I did not know the correct city I was born in. I put in my bio that I was born in San Fernando Valley. My dad just read it on my website, and called me. He told me that's not where I was born at all. I was born in West LA in Cedar something or another hospital. And then he told me that if I ever wanted to talk about family history on his side, I could call him up one day. Considering that I know nothing about my family, I might take him up on that.