Currently listening to White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane and King Henry by Steeleye Span. Yes, it is a very wierd combo. But it’s making my toes tap and keeping me from killing people. That’s a good thing, right?

One of the things that has been nagging me about this blog. It’s in a public forum. And I censor myself to an extent, because of this. To quote Di Tregarde (Mercerdes Lackey writing before she got a)well known, and b)boring.) “If I wrote about what I actually know, people could get hurt.” This might be a paraphrase. My (second) copy of Children of the Night dissapared with one of our longer term houseguests. Haven’t got around to picking up another copy. It seems to be the one book I can’t keep in my possession. The first copy dissapaeared september of my freshman year of college. Lent it to a guy who promptly got his butt expelled. Never saw him or the book again.

But back to the not writing everything that’s in my head deal. I have no idea who reads this (lack of feedback… hint hint) - and there are things that not everyone in the world needs to know. Or should know. About me. About others. So there’s generally more in my head than gets written here. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.