random things from my essay.

the essay was serious; these interjections were not. i was in a strange mood...

when the muse strikes, she strikes hard. I think I'd have a perpetual migraine if she hit me every day. ... Being hit in the head certainly does explain a great many mental aberrations. Or at least it's a good excuse...

The computer gnomes would prefer that everybody communicated in C++ or 1337. I like to think that I foiled their plans.

Talking about getting feedback on a work of art, such as a poem:
you produce something that's a piece of you. You make it, mold it, create it, and it contains you, the essence of who you are. And people take it, finger it, sniff it, lick it perhaps, then pull out a shining knife, sharpen the knife, and proceed to dissect it. Then they examine each part closely, perhaps pointing out a few pretty places. This whole time you are on edge, feeling every prick of the knife, catching every whiff of uncertainty. Finally, they set it down, look at you, shake their heads, and swipe it into the trash. Then, just for good measure, they make you watch the trash compactor at work. How in the name of anything is that supposed to make you feel good? Huh? Got an answer, little gnomes? No? That's cause there isn't one. See, if the gnomes won't shut up when you tell them to, just scare them silly. It's your best bet. Or at least it's mine. Boo! Ha! Scared them again. And now, in the silence, I shall continue...

Feedback is a he. Sass is feminine. So's manipulation, but that's not the point.

Yes, neuron gnomes, I'm talkin' to YOU!

If my mind were a broken record instead of a computer, it would be much easier to remember things. But it would be boring, too, I suppose, so that's out.

Take that, violent muse!

and that is all for now. sometimes i even amuse myself...