Success is 999
I don’t know what it means, either. I dreamed it thirty seconds ago, not in bed where I ought to be, but scrunched in an awkward position against my couch. You know that weird in-between state as you’re falling asleep, when your thoughts seem to be a continuation of what you were thinking a minute ago? But if you stop and think about it, they make no sense at all? Mmm, that’s good stuff. Hilarious.
Oh look, there we go again. I drifted off for maybe a minute between paragraphs just now and dreamed my mom was in an aerobics class out in front of our house.
This is probably a common sentiment here at the halfway point, but I don’t know if NaBloPoMo is good for me (or you). Knowing I “have to” blog everyday makes it seem like a chore, so I put it off and put if off and put it off until it’s 11-something, and then, instead of writing something that might be worth your time to read, I’m racking my brain for a quick and dirty topic I can dash off with as little effort as possible. Whatever runs through my head in the last ten minutes before midnight I write down, and somehow that counts as a post. I’m doing this at this very moment, as I’m sure you can tell. Sorry.
Lazy link: Postsecret. It’s self-explanatory. I’ve blogged about it before.