On stripping bark from myself

Behind my computer there's a pushpin board that comprises the back of my hutch, where I have a bunch of pictures, cards, and other little sentimental, pointy, and/or hangable things. Above a cutout title from a magazine that says "BE DELICIOUS" and beside a dangling bracelet there's a fortune cookie fortune that says, "Act well your part; there the honor lies." I kept it because I liked it, but now that I'm sitting here, I'm wondering how ethical it is to pass Alexander Pope quotes off as Asian premonitions.

I think because I have a superfluity of opinions and the standard running monologue in my head, I forget how quiet I can appear to be. It's not, for example, a word I'd use to describe myself. I tend to associate quiet with nervousness and shyness, whereas my lack of verbalization is a product of conscious choice and/or a preventative measure to keep from getting punched in the face.

Speaking of opinions, I've held this one for a while: While it's important to have friends, it's more important to know and be comfortable with who you are outside of them. As empowering and unibomberish of a mindset as this is, and though I still put a lot of stock in it, I now concede that it's stupid to try to pretend like my friends don't define me to some extent. And that if I didn't have any friends, I wouldn't really be a happy camper. Ironically, the use of the phrase "happy camper" probably isn't the sort of thing that's going to aid in my accumulation of friends.

Also, I love psychology, but I have to admit it's a little disheartening to learn that some trait or sensation you thought was magically mysterious has a scientific name and study. I imagine that kind of realization is even more disheartening when people recognize those similarities in the "dissociative disorders" section of the book.

"Linda is the only person I know who could pretty much pass as any race" -Will

Before you throw those stones at me, tell me what's your house made of?

Over the last couple weeks I've discovered that simply changing the way I think about and anticipate the future dramatically changes how quickly my days go by. It seems only logical, then, that I must be mere steps away from the ability to time travel.

I wonder how many subculturally engaged Americans are aware that Bohemia was an actual country from which people do, actually, derive lineage. The next time someone claims to be bohemian, I think he should be stripped of his paintbrush and black turtleneck if he can't speak intelligently about the Habsburg monarchy.

Things I Know How to Say in French That Make Me Wonder Under What Context Would Having This Knowledge Be More Important Than Knowing the Word for, Say, "Scissors":
- Navel ring
- Textile mill
- Snowshoeing
- Home theater entertainment system
- Unicorn
- Alimony payments

Have you ever noticed that some people seem to naturally have faces that let you see into their futures? There are a couple friends I have who I can look at and instantly picture what they're going to look like when they're shuttling kids to and from soccer practice. I wonder if that's the sort of thing you can see in yourself, too, or if it's another one of those jokes nature and perception team up to play on us.