Enter title here.

The reason behind reason isn’t something you’re about to grasp any sooner than someone else. Reasons don’t need reasons. But you do. And whatever reason you pick, reasoning your way through them can be something of a complicated procedure. Have you turned on the lights? See, why would I ask that unless I knew that there would be no reason to go from talking about explaining any number of actions and then proceed to change the subject into something electricity based? I don’t know. Do I need a reason?

No reason was given.

Feel free to make up your own.

Yes. While I’m disputing the existence of other beings that our own race, this will of course come as no shock to anyone familiar with this sense of writing.

Despite the style, following logic is not one of the reasons to add raisins in the creative process of fantastic expansion that is this peculiar chosen strangeness of wooden delight. Ever had wooden delights? No? Neither have I, but I’m sure they’re quite tasty.

Best practice of handy craft, hoover craft and crafting river crafts. There is a droid, a robot and a metal being sharing the same consciousness that I’ve neglected to mention because it’s insignificant in the larger scale of dragon’s fierce fire breath. Also, arrows.

The ringing of a telephone from someone calling across the stars and starts to bring you chocolate cake in the morning while you’re sipping tea from India, wishing for a larger cup of biscuits and a trey of silverware that can hold heads of Z in the word bedridden with soars from a prolonged hospitalization visit, seemingly without end as the miles go on and on and the miles go on for miles and no wrecking ball crashes the living room trash past one hundred miles in the hour consisting of dots, dots, dots and more eclipse ellipsis from warlocks, other DPS classes and dreaming demon hunters with blades wielding blades soaring high up in the sky with wings, glaring at the glaciers for not eradiating enough radiant radiation of massive effects come dawn of blues that makes jamming jazz sound as an evening in downtown New York.

Do your head spin, too? If not, can you find a reason?

Twenty five and thirty. Sixty seven eight nine ten. Time’s up. Park the car. Land the craft from hovering above the roof. Grab the can, can the bag, bring the puppy to the adorable eyes along with the rest of the expedition. The lineup includes a monkey and a puppet master.

My puppet dances magnificently to the tunes of whistles blown by horns uphill in the wind.

Geese. Goose. Flying turkeys. Americans.

Girl without future.

Out of touch with the word.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Well, it sort of is – but then you do live in your own little world. It could be a nice world, much better than the real world. I’m not saying that I’m throwing “this” world away in favor of another one – I’m simply saying that I’m not as up to date on things as I might (and should) be. It doesn’t really bother me, to be honest.

My hair has grown. It’s not long, per say, but longer. The length won’t make a difference until a year or so – two years, I imagine. Long hair isn’t what I’m used to. But I do wear it and I do look good in it. Ponytails still causes me headache, though. Pigtails aren’t really my style. Even if Harley Quinn is rocking them good – not often the whiteness of the purity reminds me of heroin.

Thorax.

If you don’t know who this is, google the name. Now. Don’t worry, I can wait.

Done? Good. Seen the episode? Even better! Let’s move on.

Three lessens were pointed out. The first one is that standing up and doing what is right is the right thing to do. The second one: It’s okay being different and you shouldn’t be hunted because of that. You shouldn’t have to face prejudice because of who you are. Third – it’s never too late to learn more, even if you’re fairly certain that you know a lot about the subject at hand.

Yes, changelings can change.

Utter adorable elder gentleman who happened to be slightly affected by alcohol called me by my correct and chosen form of gender in a badly lit foyer about 40 minutes past midnight. I should probably not be as happy about this as I am. Nope. Not caring. Happiness is still happiness.

Purple haze.

In a drive for shared numbers, the vest becomes the mark. Big newspapers roll into submission, go viral. The coffee cup, the coffee mug and the pot of coffee becomes sour. Tea leafs and sugar battle for the concept of flavor. Legs, hairless, smooth and non-criminal, women of ice, men of ice, Iceman and Icewoman, spread across dark skies in the form of small dots – lightning the way.

Harassment.

Dreams.

Unrelated issues.

Dresses.

Wet farts. Plastic plants. Nick of time. Chewing gum. Skyscraper stairs. Bubble wraps. Pigs with pink ponytails and ties on. Invested in the vest. Peers and Gynters. No, wait, is this trolling? I think this is trolling. Right? Poetic blood singing? Oh. Never mind, then.

September is when you wake up. Past ending. Green days ahead as the end of November approaches. Even monkeys grabbing branches and tree trunks hover above the cloud number eight and seven to score points with an Olympic god upholding the maps.

From diamond to coal.

Define love.

“The cognitive-affective state characterized by intrusive and obsessive fantasizing concerning reciprocity of amorant feelings by the object of the amorance.”

So, I’ve met someone. Online. He’s a great guy, sweet, caring, and does something I don’t have the slightest idea to comprehend for a living. Best part? We’re not flirting. 

INFP-T. If you don’t know what means, here’s a link. In Norway, 5.18% share my five letters.

I’d also task you, dear reader, to inform me of where you feel at home out of the 16 options. I’m not asking to leave a message in the comments. I’m not asking you to drop anything and immediately go to this page simply because I would advise you to click on it. I can, however, argue for why you should.

It would possible help you understand yourself a little bit better.

The test itself doesn’t take much time, the reading after might.

It would make me happy to know that type of personality trope that you are simply because it would make interactions between us much easier. That latter is pretty much taken out of the INFP-A/T description (aka me). That doesn’t mean it’s not any less true.

Because testing oneself gives knowledge and forces one to admit less pleasant sides about the life one does live. It’d make you feel good about yourself after, too, being honest.

My holiday guest reader special – this is for you.

While it is not a Part Two, it is something else. A little story of something that I imagined you’d appreciate in the hours of updating.

Monday, 8/8, second season of Sense8 becomes available.  That means when Tuesday night hits, I’ll be unavailable.

Do you remember what we discussed? If not, then it’s all right – no mind bears to recall all that’s taken place in this world. Barred is the way to knowledge and enlightenment unless you seek it for yourself.

The bong dong boom party happens tonight. Because we’re bad guys that blows things up to pieces.

Tonight the Lady of the House will have a chat with her handmaiden. We’ll see how that goes as it will be quite the strange experience for them both. Ah, the great outdoors and the bliss of random happenings in the rain that causes hair and lekku to flutter in the wild, wild wind.

In terms of love, hate, despise and all things in between emotions of the art, we find humans. Beings, much like ourselves, still struggling to carve out hearts of their own in the desolate wastes. Lips. Lips, sweet, soft, caressing, kissing, my lips to yours, locked in bliss.

And while the thunder roams the sky and the lightning reaches upward into the stratosphere, dark coffee beans roll downhill in the everlasting need of focus that tiredness and wired telephones cannot beat alone in the shadow of lingering doubt and dough.

In the dark, what will guide you?

In the light, will you shield your eyes?

In the twilight, do you succumb to loathing for yourself?

Dawn rises. Zombies awaits. Vampires go to rest. Werewolves slink back into their caves and lairs, to reemerge as humans once again. Teeth, nail and tail. Sharptooth ponders where the next meal is lunched.

Lurking, lurching, luring and launching into what you never imagined.

Your thoughts belong to me. Your thoughts are free.

Lana & Lilly

You are the inspiration for a generation. Beyond even that. You’re my heroes.

And by gods, I love you both. Thank you.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, it’s not news per say. It’s simply my inability to stay tuned and up to date on the happenings in the real world.

Having both the letters A and I in my chosen name as well as my given name (pun intended) it makes me proud, too. Strangely, it shouldn’t matter what you’d call yourself (or have others call you) – as only Nomi have the letter I in it. Then again, Nomi is simply something I call myself. It’s not a name, per say. It’s something different. It’s a substitute of using a real name – either of my real names.

I’m also proud to say that the one person in the team I’m working with now has proven to be friendship material. Note that it may not evolve into a friendship, just knowing the potential is there is like cooling sweat while wearing a silk shirt.

Caged lions. Tigers. Crouching, hiding, sneaking in the sunlight. On my way home, I remembered.

Trees.

Trees are fine.

I like trees.

Darkness overflows.

Leave it alone.