An Introduction

Costello Phright was tired. Tired of looking, and of listening, and of talking about what he experienced. He detested looking the way he did, he resented what he saw. He abhorred listening the way he did, he despised what he saw. He, however, secretly and silently savored when he had the chance to articulate what he had noticed, he relished at the sound of his own voice.

Costello had lived a complicated life; one of trial, tribulations, enjoyments, deep-thoughts, happy times, sad times, hard work, love, hate, and even song. The world and his life flashed around him, constantly, as if he were sitting next to Han Solo as he entered into light speed; except this never ended and there was no lovably incomprehensible creature to keep him company. He was after all, in all senses of the word, a "loner."

Costello does have talents though. He has lots of talents that are all too often left to the wayside because the thoughts in his mind torment him too frequently to allow to these talents to shine in all their true glory. Costello lives happy; Costello lives tormented.

Big Shirts

I have always detested wearing big shirts.

As far back as I can remember, big shirts have frightened me to to death. I put on a big shirt, look into the mirror and believe that I am oozing dork. Alas, I have discovered the real truth. Big shirts, to me, are dorky. Now this begs the question: why should anyone, especially myself, consider big shirts to be dorky? They shouldn't. This is foolish, and it's time for a revolution.

My revolution will be easy for me to attempt because I have a plethora of big shirts. I don't know why; I never wear them. I think it was my Mom always buying shirts at Kohls for me, or maybe the collection stems from my two younger, bigger brothers, who cannot seem to stop growing for the life of them. Luckily for all 3 of the aforementioned possible people responsible for my ridiculous and unused shirt collection, I stopped growing in practically the 2nd grade. But I digress...

Getting dressed this morning, I noticed that my laundry desperately needed to be done, and, as a result, I only had a few shirts left to wear. One of these was big shirt. Yes, you guessed it, I am wearing the big shirt. I am trying it out. I am going to experiment today: will I feel dorky as I go about my daily routines simply because I am wearing a big shirt?

This could be the beginning of a whole new era!

Spiders, and Stairs, and Fear... oh my?

Spiders. Creepy to anyone? Is anyone not creeped out by spiders? Is anyone actually creeped out by spiders? Stupid question. No one, I think, is actually creeped out by spiders, as much as they are creeped out by the idea of spiders. I think. I hope. Though, in reality, I don't have any clue.

Today, a particular horrible day for a wide variety of reasons, I encountered a giant spider. Talking on the on the phone with my Mom, something I enjoy thoroughly, and standing on the stairs of my new house, something that stills needs quite a bit of work, I looked down and noticed this, what seemed to be to me, giant wolf spider. I was terrified. But more importantly, he - wait, wait - that could be sexist- I should say, he or SHE was staring right at me. I had just played tennis for a brief 4 hours; my stench, some mixture of pleasant roses and elegant perfume, began to drive the little guy (or girl) away. So, pictures this: spider (girl or guy?) and myself (tennis extraordinaire?) running from each other. However, since this was our first formal meeting, we weren't quite acclimated with each other yet, and we ran in the same direction.

Now the real issue arose. I went to the my bedroom, he (or she!) went..... to an undisclosed location. Where does this leave me? Stuck upstairs. Sitting here typing away on a blog that no one reads, I am dreaming of all the nice cold water in my refrigerator downstairs. Must be nice to not be afraid of spiders. OR, shall I speculate, the idea of spiders?

I need a drink. I will write to you from the other side.