For stylistic purposes, I utilize lowercase text on these sections of the site but I may have to reconsider, as it isn't honest to the manner in which I really do write, nor does it have the ability to convey what I, at times, wish to convey. This entry, I decided to quit it. As to not dissapoint those that genuinely did want the .png of the white headed buffalo weaver, and clicked in hopes of it, I may upload the photos/videos at a later date and update about it.
On a shelf sat his adult daughter's solved rubix cube. Who 'he' refers to is of no significance, let's carry on. He said to me, "She'd be able to solve those under a minute."
I want to know what genius is to the average individual. I assume this feat constitutes as a quality of genius , and that parents love to boast of their children's accomplishments.
"So was your daughter a genius?"
"She was... Futsuu. Normal."
And I asked for his definition of normal-- he began to perspire and didn't answer my question.
I was given from them an old antique, a figure of a little violin embedded with jewels, to sit upon my desk, and I figured it such an embassment to have it oversee the mess that is my room. I haven't been in this place, in this room, for too long. Well, it's complicated. I decided to clean everything and found in my drawers an innocuous plastic bag. It's contents: two knives of, what I assume to be, quality (I may search for the exact models on a later date), a men's handkerchief still sealed in it's original plastic, and a journal of sorts dated back to the year 2004 with it's pages yellowing and of the texture paper has after it has dried after having been wetted. All this was covered in sap, or something. Honestly, it was disgusting.
Unrelated, I dreamt that night of a pond of ducks upon the backdrop of a rising sun, and couldn't believe it that such birds can just exist. I saw many birds today-- I saw many things today, but the non-bird items are of little importance. Tonight, I may dream of white-headed buffalo weavers and bumpy tram rides.