It took me too long to realize that I don't take good pictures, 'cause I have the kind of beauty that moves

Since the day I learned the definition of an adjective until the last couple of years or so, if you asked me to describe myself, the first word that came out of my mouth would have been "nice." While I still, overall, consider myself a nice person to a large extent, it's become pretty evident that niceness as a dominant trait is kind of a bad thing. It's a little boring, first of all, but more significantly, being nice is sometimes synonymous with insincerity and complacency. It would be much better to consider yourself tactful or diplomatic, because at least those qualifiers take into consideration the fact that being nice and being honest are occasionally divergent paths.

Or maybe that's just my excuse to cover up my guilt over the fact that I've gotten a little more jerkfacey over the years.

I'm reading The Picture of Dorian Gray right now, and, flying in the face of my usual philosophy that writing in books is annoying and unnatural despite what annotation-freak English teachers tell you, I've started reading with a highlighter next to me. I now have the theory that Oscar Wilde's books are more of an excuse for him to make an ungodly number of quippy one-liners than an actual novel.

Things Making Me Smile Right Now:
- Not being sick
- The prospect of my and Megan's Caribou extravaganza
- My nearly perfect relationship with Roomie
- Taco Bell
- Making my entire floor smell like my coffee
- Cardio kickboxing