Pretty much, I'm sitting here trying to fIgure out Matlab, the ulTimate programming Shitfest of the century.  Just sang to aluMni todaY in chamBer In a Room THat haD fortunAtelY good acousTics as OpposeD to the D.M. Smith building where prActice is held.  We sang "Comin' Round the Mountain" (a verY cool arrangement I might add) and "Ride the Chariot" (your standard joyful old-timey hymn sort of thing).  It went well, and we got food afterwards which is always a plus for that sort of thing.

I've realized that people are a lot like grammar rules, if that makes any sense.  Generally speaking, certain things will work, but there exist many exceptions to those rules.  Plus, to succeed, one must not only master those rules but go beyond into the realm of creativity with them; otherwise, the writing and the personality are dull and ignored.

Past that, however, people tend toward that which and who makes them feel good about themselves.  That's why an altogether worthless person to one may be a diamond ring to another.  It's all quite arbitrary.

I've created myself, my own image, that someone can copy, given I pry into others' business with a despicable character and misconduct in consent.  You could say that I'm a rapist to personalities, devouring and consuming others' darkness for my pleasure, but then again, you love me, like THC to a psychological addiction.  I find no peace.  I am nothing, like the ultimate lack of fulfillment, such as pornography.  Half of you wouldn't comprehend anyway this mess, for I've dug an sin well instead.  Ravaging the land while it's ravished with me.  Something I could never comprehend how you hated me before but loved me since sin, nothing could be more backward in this rusty tin can, or carbon, and covalent bonds, fucked together, like a hemaphrodite.  I'll say whatever I want as long as you want to hear it.