I am in love with my blog pieces from 2018 – all of them, front to back. Not like, in a cocky way. I just enjoy perusing them and building upon their themes.
I want to discuss what I consider to be the ideal strategy for being a good reader on WordPress. It all focuses on stars, which I consider to be the unsung hero of being a wonderful blogosphere citizen.
Of all the words in the English language, there is exactly one I am seemingly incapable of saying.
I would imagine one or two of you are wondering if Dysontopia ran away, took an extended vacation in the Caribbean, or perhaps got sucked into a giant planet-eating black hole.
Every tool I use to add to the substance of the universe is merely an adaptation of somebody’s philosophical attempts to ascertain meaning in patterns beyond my comprehension.
It's so romantic and ethereal to imagine "Distant Voices" in the wind or the leaves, but to be honest my experience comes from me opening and closing a squeaky door. It literally calls out my name.
You perch bravely above the blogosphere, seeking and destroying any and all typological errors, sentence structure awkwardness, and comma splices with just a few taps from your smartphone.
Ezri would do everything with me. She followed me around the apartment, she waited on me outside of the shower, she watched me leave, and waited for me to come home. She was also a chatterbox. Oftentimes, she would meow at me constantly as if she were trying to have a conversation with me.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the difference between courage and hardness, and my gosh, through my terrible week I’ve discovered that, similar to love and hate, the difference between the two is so much thinner than I had hoped.
For the past week our cat Ezri has stopped eating, drinking, and being her silly self. Yesterday afternoon we received some heartbreaking news from the vet.