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O_o umm... okay.

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Well... true. But this guy is truly slightly brain damaged. And it shows sometimes. Half the time I want to fold him in half and stuff him in a box. The other half, I just want to beat him senseless.

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I'm sure that this one could hold his own against your five! XD

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At work, if the little psycho I work with is around, I'm hostile. If he's gone... bored.

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I need all the fun I can get right now. I'm at work and am alternating between boredom and hostility.

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What if we step on other people's feet besides ours? *giggle*

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Great... but I have to lead!

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*starts up the mournful music*

Shall we dance?

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The Happy Dance has been danced. Yet now it is replaced by the Dance of Despair, for I am at work. *giggle*

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Pretty fun. I went to a science fiction convention. First one in six years! Way fun.

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Congratulations. :)

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But the trick is knowing exactly when to be brutally honest and when to hold your tongue. This is not a time to hold your tongue.

Did that make any sort of sense? I think I may be babbling.... O_o

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Well, thank you. *blush*

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Thing is... I have never considered myself a poet. In fact, when I actually try to write poetry, all I end up with is crap. Pure, unadulterated crap. I have to just write and go back to it later and break it into lines and verses.

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Thank you. It is one of my more emotional pieces. Yet it really means little to me.... weird, isn't it?