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Holy guacamole. I leave for the airport in approximately nine hours. On to Nagasaki Japan!
It's so exciting, and at the same time, things are going so well here, that I'm torn. . . Not that things are easily altered at this point. Nor am I certain that I would want to change them if I could. It's the most bizarre thing that I've ever experienced. A good thing, but the timing couldn't be stranger. . . if that isn't vague enough for you.
So, my room is spiffy clean again. The packing is completed, and my baggage is within the accepted weight limits. Phew. This just in: Apparently there is a weather warning for The Salt Lake Valley tonight through tomorrow. I do hope that this does not cause any delays. As I only have one hour layovers in San Fransisco and Tokyo. . . . Nothing worth worrying about though.
My left arm is super warm all of a sudden. Cool beans.
Moral of the Story: You can never be 1oo % sure of what the future may hold.
Hello and welcome to Blogspot? Neat, a place to put down whatever I'd like about experiences, perspectives, random thoughts and such into print. Hmm, I've never blogged before. This blogging thing seems similar to a journal, only less private. Initially made for the convenience of myself, I imagine that this may inadvertently allow others to become more familiar with the way my grey matter processes information. . . be it for good or ill.
Now to create an actual blog entry, full of inspiration, good feelings and the moral of the story.
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How come the "tab" key never works online?
- Revision
The day after the day made to honor the saint Patrick. Nice day. From what I can tell, it should be close to 6o degrees again today. Maybe I'll return to pulling some more of the dead grass out of the front lawn. It's a good work out really. Back and forth using something that looks like a backscratcher of death. It's rewarding, in the end seeing how my grass has been pulled out of the ground, and neatly heaped. Looking across the lawn, seeing the occassional patch of. . . nothing but dirt? What? Great, dirt. Dirt with the few sad blades of grass barely surviving. Aw come on, they're not that bad. I swear it was all dead grass to begin with, as I don't recall raking that hard.
Fine, moving on to something more note worthy: I need to finish my taxes. I know already that I owe federal taxes. . . what happened to less taxes on the poor college student? Fiddlesticks. I worked hard for a reason. Among those reasons, giving money to other people wasn't one of them.
Fiddlestick(s). I imagine the word means a bow used for a fiddle or violin. So how did the word become a way to express impatience or dissatisfaction? There is no relevance.
That's enough for now. One last note before I wrap this up: I hate commercials that sing excessively or play cheesy music. While the jingle advertising tactic effectively causes the listener to remember the ad, many of them are irritating. I (for one) have no desire to associate myself with a company who presents such jingles that make my ears bleed.
Tip of the day: Don't eat lead.
