Http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-35226276 I Wish I Was The Most Badass Of Burglars. If I Could Have

Life goals

I have decided that I am going to marry into a family the last name Fowler, take their name, and name my kid Bard Ash Moulder Fowler. I'd be such a proud dad.

Someone needs to write a story about the Headless Horseman as an undead superhero who always forgets he's missing his head. He'll keep trying to head butt people or whistle for his horse, only to remember that he doesn't have a head. It'd start off with him writing a book about the inconvenience of being headless and follow his misadventures on his quest to find out where it went. All the while, he's battling people who want to take over the world or steal his head. He'll have great, heroic monologues in sign language that only get translated when someone else or the villain happen to know sign language. He also has to hide from everyday people because of the stigma created by the events in the Legend of Sleepy Hollow, which he swears (in sign language) to the authorities are terribly misinterpreted. People try to re-kill him, exorcise him, and capture him, etc. Demons and other undead try to take him back to the underworld. Aliens and super villains keep trying to destroy the planet. All he wants is to find his head and be able to enjoy a beer or two at the bar down the street from his apartment.

As I drove into work mostly still asleep, I had a sudden, horrifying sensation I left my light saber at home. The awake half of my brain took a minute to process how ridiculous the notion was I: Have a real light saber; would need said light saber for work. Sleeping only two-three hours a night is not a good way to live.

All I've ever wanted is the power to destroy.

I would rather have been a terrible storm, a great wave to crush a coastline, a rampaging tornado, or a furious volcano.

Consider It A Strong Warning

We always have the news on at work, and the Christy Mack case seems to have gotten some attention. Girls, help me out on this one because I must be insane if no one agrees with me. Whoever that meathead jack wagon of a boyfriend was that nearly murdered her got himself a lawyer who's using her rape fantasy/kink as a way of basically saying she deserved being nearly murdered. That's bullshit, right? I'm not crazy for saying if a judge even considers that as a valid defense, he needs to get nearly shot to death if he ever wonders what it's like to be shot or be injected with AIDS if he ever wonders what it's like to have a nearly incurable disease, am I? Because having a rape fantasy or kink or whatever and nearly being beaten to death is as much an extreme leap as those in my last question. It doesn't fucking matter she was a porn star. It doesn't fucking matter if she still is a porn star. Last I checked, attempted murder and assault are still crimes. Or, have I totally lost my mind...? I know how lawyers play. I get their games. But, even for a lawyer, that's fucking low.

Is it guilt? What is it?

I have this weird, lingering... feeling...? Since we broke up about a year ago, we remained in contact, I have seen my ex gain at least thirty pounds. She was always insecure, depressed, anxious, etc. on top of being just downright lazy when it came to her physical well-being, and there was nothing I could say or do to get her to change that. She takes half a dozen medications to help her, and it seems to me they don't work. She refused to even eat better (A salad with ten ounces of ranch dressing is not healthy) when I gave up on offering to do walk-jog-run or something as simple as Wii-Fit. I didn't care she was overweight already or not as active as she should have been, I just wanted her to actually think for once instead of sitting on facebook all day eating junk food and looking (then, subsequently, complaining to me) at how all these "friends" kept getting married, engaged, blah, blah, blah. Eventually, the daily irony of being all these things on top of her going to nursing school was too much for me to bear. Few things make me angrier than people in health care, or trying to get into it, who can hardly make it up a flight of steps, much less have some semblance of mental/emotional stability. I don't care how smart a person is in a classroom (she is very book-smart, that much is true). If they think they are material for being in a position to possibly need to save people and have zero stability other than this illogical, masochistic idea that being in health care will mystically make themselves better (physically, mentally, emotionally), they're wrong. Thinking a job they will have huge responsibilities will magically make them take care of themselves, too, simply makes no sense at all when they have fits of depression or anxiety that keep them in bed all day. It makes me sad, too. It makes me sad because a part of me really, REALLY wanted to help her. I wanted to help her succeed, but she'd have nothing of it. A part of me also feels responsible for how she reacted to the breakup. Honestly, that's illogical, as well. Maybe even more so than her mindset. There was little worthwhile about that relationship, honestly. The relationship yielded little more than what a good friendship could have (sex has never been a strong selling point to me). Maybe if we'd been friends longer before dating, we could have circumvented the inevitable. She isn't a bad person, but she is too self-destructive for anyone less than psychiatrists to handle. Still... All-in-all, for whatever, ridiculous reason, I still feel bad... and I don't know why...