Bad fantasy novels are obnoxious. There was a specific one I enjoyed as a tween. I recently re-read it and, although it had very nice moments, the effect of the over all story was disappointing. The characters were the best when the writer wasn't trying too hard on them. I was reminded faintly of a very bad story about fairies I wrote for my grade 8 english class. Let's not even go there.

The sunburn is starting to be less painful.

Went to an awesome aquarium today. I love fishies.

I secured an assurance of a visit from my older sister's newly found boyfriend. The beginning of August, he said. Perrfect, I think. He also owes me an iced cap.

Lately all of my floaty in-between thoughts about life have swirled around the same basic question: Does reality exist outside of human perception?
I think the answer is yes, and that has very clear implications on the ways I think.
I assume, though, that if someone else though otherwise, there would be no way of debating anything with them.