The clouds had depth from the top of the 312 bridge this morning. It wasn't like looking at a flat blue ceiling with smears of white paint, anymore. There was distance. Shape. Space. It was beautiful in a kindly sort of way. Not overpowering or awe inspiring. Just... a comfortable sort of beautiful. Like a fire in the hearth in winter. Like your mother when she dresses up. I liked it very much.

I was driving to drop off a paycheck for my mother. I usually volunteer to drop her checks off at the bank for her because I like driving and I can drop my own checks off at my bank along the way.

There are a lot of things going on in my mind now. Like right now, not just in the past few weeks. At this precise moment there are so many things I could write about but... there are so many things I would never write about. When I first started this blog I had the intention of writing whatever I wanted to without caring who would read it. I wanted to be able to say anything at all. I was being naive. To speak even briefly of the things troubling me now would be disastrous. Maybe that's why I don't write in this blog so much anymore.

What can I do? Just talk about the absolutely mundane things that happen to me from day to day? I admit, I'm arrogant enough to sometimes wonder if the world doesn't, in fact, revolve around me, but I'm not stupid enough to assume anyone wants to know what I had for breakfast this morning or how many hours of sleep I got. My parents who love me can barely force themselves to listen to my boring tirades about TV shows I watched recently.

My life is so much cooler than Scott Pilgrim's. My life has Jordan Linkston in it.

Also... I think the Kraken lives in the Ichetucknee River. He hides in the grass. I don't think he wants to eat me, but he wants to make me think he's going to eat me. He's not very nice.