It's also a bit unnerving to visit when you've just read a thread about multiple different individuals getting brutally assassinated by a Chinese gang across the distance of hundreds of miles simultaneously...in real time, after posting in that thread. Not that I have anything against Chinese people, but white cars were giving me a bit of pause every time they pulled near the store. Fear like that sorta does something to the brain, you know? Something awkward. Different for everybody - some, it injects panic; others, sadness and tears; and for folks of my ilk, it escalates a capacity to describe, to create, to notice things. Sharpens the mind.
An overactive imagination is the epitome of a double-edged sword; on the one hand, it thrives upon colorful thoughts, seeping into their roots and accelerating growth, molding and twisting their premises in new, enigmatic directions. On the other hand, it thrives upon colorful thoughts, seeping into their roots and accelerating growth...you see? It's a pretty dangerous tool; one can only make proper use of it if their hands are capable for the job. Trained, refined, and strengthened to explode outwards with the truth, to espouse ideas eloquently.
Ahh, what am I saying? Zilch, zero, zip articles of importance are spouting from these fingertips.
The only other event that seemed abnormal (besides my paranoia concerning cultist assassins), was a really big UPS mailman who delivered my purple tape today (and yes, it's THAT purple tape), who looked sinfully exhausted and gangly. Didn't even talk to me as I signed the papers, and kept his hat covering his face. Weird guy.
Review'll be up in a little bit - need to snooze for a sec.
Keeping up with my namesake,