I occasionally find it amusing that caulk and cock are homophones. My sense of humor is about as mature and refined as a whoopee cushion.

“Every beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”

That has remained my favorite quote throughout the years. It provides inspiration in all aspects of life and defines many actions.

As humans, we are inevitably prone to making mistakes. We define our own character according to how we handle these mistakes. With that said, I have learned in the last few years that the quality of friends is so much more gratifying than the quantity. Therefore, I chose to place myself in a circle of great people so that who they are will shine through me, and hopefully me through them.

Afterall, your friends and the people you choose to surround yourself with ultimately define an important part of who you are.

I’m wearing black today. Surprise.

Language is a great idea poorly executed.

As a species, we no doubt felt very bright and very smart and very proud of ourselves when we first began inventing names for the nouns around us–stones and fire and sticks and large prehistoric mammals. Things were simple: “eat mammoth,” “use stick,” and so on. But then we got overconfident, and began to think that we could express precisely the mess of thoughts and multitude of emotions that lie jumbled about in our skulls. (This was a ridiculous notion, as consciousness is very big, and words are very small. The larger will not fit inside the smaller, just as a bathtub will not fit inside a teacup, no matter how you struggle and debate with them the issue.) Then came abstract nouns and grammar and an English vocabulary large enough to choke a horse, and still I cannot express myself. Trying to translate feelings and thoughts into words is like trying to translate a painting into music, while retaining exactly the colors, shapes, forms, textures, and images of the former.

Consequently, I am forever getting tongue-tied and confused when I try to say what I mean to say, or try to salvage an intact and accurate thought from my mind. I fumble around in the dark, sometimes coming up with phrases which say what I mean to say, and sometimes dredging up ridiculously inaccurate impostors. I feel like an armless man attempting spear-fishing for the first time.

Today has been one of those days where I seem to leak time from every pore and in every exhalation–it goes so fast, and I am so frivolous in its use. I did a number of simple methodical domestic things today. I took a shower. I made a sandwich, perfectly layering the mayo atop the mustard. I read some things. I was rendered thoroughly bewildered by the vast amount of nothingness I had done by 6pm. I am not merely killing time, I am committing time-genocide.