saddam and i both grew beards. we were in hiding.

i've become obsessed with arranging things in these unorganized ways and coming back to them and wondering why they are messed up, swearing that i took care of it already.

i am bothered by a great many things, none of which you will ever know about.

my hair is decidedly saddam-esque. it hangs about my head in such a way that makes me feel uncomfortable and gives me the dreaded houdini-head. i vacillate between being enraged enough to shave it off and the apathy that has allowed it to gather this despicable growth.

i yearn to have important things to do.