My posts lately have been few and far between lately, so let’s see where my stream of consciousness goes today. It should prove especially entertaining, given that I had about 2.5 hours of sleep last night.

I feel a bit like my blog is dying, which makes me sad. I’m trying to decide if that’s because I have nothing to say, or because I write all day for work and get a little sick of it. I’m not sure what the reason is. But since this is really my only form of a journal (at present, at least) I need to leave something to be remembered by, and I imagine a journal is preferable to my stuffed corpse standing by the fireplace. (Hey, what did you expect from stream of consciousness? At least I’m using punctuation.)

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about science fiction. This is partly because I am attempting to write a science fiction novel, having finally received some good advice on developing a proper plot structure. But it’s also because science fiction was once sort of a beacon of hope that humanity would outgrow its stupidity (see: Star Trek). There was something of vast, untapped potential in the stories of the early to mid-twentieth century, and that optimistic attitude has been replaced with a new genre of dystopic, post-apocalyptic works, apparently reflecting what is weighing on our collective consciousness.

Wow, this took a turn for the serious, so let me see if I can lighten things up. We love having our own house, knowing that if we want to knock a hole in a wall or throw a rock through the window, we can (hypothetically speaking, of course).


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