If you could,
I would be like a lion.
A simple simile,
a courageous cat.

If you could,
I would take.
Instead be taken,
through these trivial gestures.

If you could,
I would make the same choice.
A blunder perhaps,
but an end no different, no less.

If you could,
then certainly,
without a doubt,
I would.

5 hours alone. A little garden. 3 very intriguing dogs. 2 cups of strong, aromatic black coffee. An iPod. And a book.


The perfect afternoon.

Or it would have been, if the book wasn't a textbook, and I didn't have my bloody midterms tomorrow. Or if there weren't so many discourteous drivers, whose first reactions to anything, be it minor or major, were to jam their palms onto the horn, just as you were holding a hot cup of coffee to your lips, making you jump and ergo ruining that pair of jeans you had just washed the night before.

Hence, to cut down noise pollution and save the many pairs of jeans that would potentially be permanently stained by coffee, I propose that the aforementioned vehicular douches (no, I'm not referring to a device for washing out the vagina as a contraceptive measure in this case) pay a heavy fine, let's say $50, to everyone present within a 100 feet radius if the horn is unnecessarily sounded.

So, imagine this: Sir Douchebag drives by in his spanking new 2-seater sportscar, and decides that his need of attention is so overwhelming that it exceeds his restraint in spending his father's obscenely huge fortune. Therefore, he stops his vehicle, fishes out his wallet and hands me my greenbacks. He subsequently proceeds back to his car to sound the horn at his own discretion. I will then be able to buy myself a nice new pair of jeans.

Who knows, I might even return him the change the next time I see him - all $2.58 of it.



I fucking hate douchebags.

It's spectacular. Just like all the others.
It may fizzle. Just like all the rest.
Reduced to nothing more.

Don't appoint to disappoint.
Buck, foolish lad.
It's there for the taking.
Delight to be delighted.