And I thought I had problems.

You're walking down the street to work. En route, you spy a picture of *insert the man/woman of your dreams here* and think to yourself "dammmmn!" And then, out of nowhere, you let out a moan, begin to convulse violently, and when you, er.., come to, you finally realize you've been hit with a tremor of pleasure, provoked by a photo. It's like a wet dream, save for the sleeping part.

Sounds pretty exciting, right? Apparently, it's a bit of a moaner groaner when it happens 200 TIMES A DAY.

The world's fascination with freaks will never end―and of course, neither will mine. For a good ol'-fashioned study break, take a trip to the virtual circus with these weirdos. If I could have any one of the listed superpowers, I'd have to choose #3. Why? Blame Canada.

Why I shouldn't be in broadcast.

Cadbury means contentness.

I almost forgot about Easter this year.

Thankfully a last-minute Sunday dinner saved me from celebrating bunnies and springtime and whatever else for which we share turkey and candied sweet potatoes.

But there's always one sure-fire way to know it's spring (not talking about the showers, nor the flowers).

Sure, the world was a happier place on the outside today. But that's all superficial anyways. True happiness on the inside can be achieved anytime, for a limited time, with the little things in life.

... Just as long as those "little things" are mini eggs.

Summer, bloody summer

My summer was all laid out.

Four months in Asia. Fly into Singapore, head North 'till I'd eaten every piece of Pad Thai and Pho on the continent. Hike, skydive, thrill-seek, adventure. Of course, ambition, when planned in pairs, sometimes falls through. I counted up my losses, accepted defeat, and made a compromise.

I set myself out, instead, to head home to lounge with mom and pop, eat Chef Frere's exquisite food, educate my little sister on getting past puberty (now that I think I'm finally over it myself), and, of course, keep a little extra coin in my pocket. I was unreasonably enthusiastic to visit the prosaic prairies, to relax, and sleep in my high school hideout. And then, come July, to rent a flat in Prague, and stroll along the promenade for a month or two. Sleeping in, and drinking Czechvar until I slept again. And I wasn't ever planning to go it alone.

But now, it seems, I am―right here.

Since Sunday, I've hastefully been arranging interviews―of the summer job sort, people pointing the mic at me instead of the school year's opposite―in hopes of earning checks to cover my coffee for next school year, instead of a plane ticket to anywhere the hell outta here. I've stopped trying to sell off my room to some stranger. My little sister will stay stuck to fend for herself at the dangerous age of thirteen. No one will be left to scarf Mike's leftovers at ungodly hours. For me, it's more concrete, more city, more same ol', just with the addition of some occasional sunshine. Those had better be some damn happy rays or I'll be carrying S.A.D. with me all through this sorry summer.

mamakasss

is wishing all of her blogs were just 140 characters, so she could blog more.