Delicacy, in the form of a Sledge Hammer

Ok.

Totally ignoring the fact that I am quite possibly the worst blogger in the world, I'm going to give all the non-existent blog fans an update:

I don't think my mom came back last night.

Its 11 PM. She isn't back yet.

The Cursed Key to Happiness

I write this post in faith that my parents will not notice, nor care. But maybe my father will yell at me to go bed, or my mother will softly, but firmly tell me to get off and go get ready for bed. Their quite the surprise, my parents. Something I've learned all too well.

For the past... month maybe? Or weeks? I'm not sure how long its been since I last wrote on this blog, but we all know that I warned you about my irregular posting rate. But for however long its been since I last wrote, I have acquired a sort of veil of normalcy over the image of my parents communications. Things have been undoubtedly better between them, but not tonight.

Oh no, sir, not tonight.

(The Illusion of) Perfection in an otherwise Im-Perfect World

Life sucks.

Well, let me rephrase that: Life is im-perfect. Fact of life, actually. I often read books, but seldom do I read to "escape" from my own life. But that's been happening more often these past few days. And I finally see the appeal of "escaping", especially if it's a story worth escaping into. But escaping dosn't help at all, because when you finish reading "The End" page, then your just right back where you began; in your own, screwed up life. But more on that later.