Cobbles.

What the hell am I supposed to write in a blog, anyway? Do you want me to tell you about my day? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? YOU DON'T CONTROL ME.

You know what? Fine. I'll do it.
I couldn't sleep for shit last night. Probably this bullshit weather. 'Wintry mix'? It's a euphemism for 'bullshit.' I went to work at 8. Read some Wuthering Heights (for my Literature class, I would never read it without being forced to). That brings us to the word of the day: COBBLES. How did that bring us to the word of the day? I don't know. Don't worry about it, it's not important. Like this blog.

God damnit. I just spilled ice water all over myself. Okay, where was I? Oh, yes, cobbles. So, after work I did things and then met a friend of mine for lunch. We went to Waba. I had kimchi fried rice, she nibbled at an orange she brought with her. What the hell is that? There's a word for that: 'argablarga', feel free to use it if you wish, but make sure to use it properly. After lunch I did some other things, don't remember what, whatever it was it probably involved the internet. Went to class, Religion. We talked about Islam. It was mildly interesting. Somehow the topic turned to the gestation period of camels. I still have no idea what was going on there. Went to dinner at Sylvia's (again), ravioli alfredo, delicious.

So now, here I am. My crotch is wet and cold, and I'm writing my first real blog entry. But, why? Who am I talking to? Am I talking to myself? Am I talking to Kathleen (my one follower at the moment and thus my only friend in the world)? Am I telling Google about my day because they already know everything about me anyway? What about this blog is making me open up about my day that having a journal never did for me? I was just never a journal person. My relatives used to buy me nice notebooks for christmas because "hey I guess he writes, what else do we get him? Legos?" YES, LEGOS. I fucking love legos. I went to the Lego store at the mall a couple months or weeks ago, it was amazing. It felt similar to how I imagine extremely religious people feel about going to church.

What the hell? Why am I doing this? Why are you reading this? Who are you? What are you? What do you see? Do you see into my head? Into my heart? Do you see into me - into us - clearly or darkly?