Are kind of good.
Kind of.
God.
Good, I mean.
Except they get stuck to your teeth, which is gross.

Debatable Rule # 1 of Life:
Never admit that you're afraid.

I follow it! Some people say though that it's really brave to admit fear, but geez mostly it's girls who say they're scared of things and they seem to be weirdly proud of it like it's a marker or their feminineness or something (wow that's a real word). So. Why bother?

Fake it until you make it, is my motto. *twirls mustache* *even though I don't have a mustache* *if I had one I would twirl it right now*

So never admit that you're sad, or angry or confused. Just fake it until you make it.

As a result, you will be a Domeki clone. And not very personable. No friends, probably, because they can tell you're a liar and/or a robot.

Actually "Fake it until you make it" is not really my motto. I don't have mottos.

Oh wait, I do: Che sara, sara.
Shigure from Fruits Basket said that and he's my sensei.

Jennifer hates that phrase, but it's true, to a point. Everything is true, to a point. There are no whole truths that I know of, which is why trying to figure out your life is pointless. Generalizations are broken, mostly, so how am I supposed to get anywhere in my philosophizing? God knows I have no patience with the details. It's good enough to be happy without trying to figure happiness out...

But here I am typing these generalizations and assumptions anyway.

I'm watching Penn's Alcohol thinger, the thing froshies have to watch to educate themselves about alcohol and drugs and what not and I'm appreciating the cheesy humor. It's a lot better than NYU's alcohol test, that's for sure.

"Pot" it says. "Is hard to stop."

Jesus let me tell you that's probably true. I mean my neighbor is always smoking pot. It smells awful. I wonder if it makes him happy? I just know there's a little girl in that house too, barely a toddler, but I mean, pot isn't the worst drug for a kid to be around.

The worst drug is...

Caffeine.

Gosh a kid on caffeine is just. Just. Jesus H. Christ.

(Are you trying to be funny?)

I'm going to start another post now, with a more focused topic.

The best kind of happiness is when the sky is iron gray but the buildings are still splashed with sunshine and a storm is coming and the air is all buzzy with excitement.

I mean, I can't think of anything better. All the other happinesses make you feel guilty or silly or sad later on.

As you can see, this is not the professionalism and censorship post.

Maybe I should just say screw it and promise to write as honestly as I can without saying anything I'll regret.

But I feel like it's like starting a game without laying down the rules. As you can see this blog is new so all the posts are really awkward. Later on it gets easier, I know, as a mother of many, many blogs.

(They died though. They died because the blog was tied to an identity that stopped fitting me well...But since this blog is linked to me, the real me, it can't possibly die can it?)

(James Blunt sings "And all men dieeeeeee" lol)

What makes blogging even easier if you write TO somebody. Not to space. But to someone.

I've already started doing that. It's an instinct.

I'm writing to you, wherever you are.

(Though that might be a problem too. What if you become an identity that dies? I can't let you take my blog with you, you know.)

(Well you're almost unreal, so you can't die. Only real things die: true or false?)

That's my post for the day.