So, there's a girl at my work who broke her leg skiing, and she's been walking around on crutches the last couple weeks. I was walking behind her the other day...slowly, and I had a sudden thought. If I pushed her down, it would be very hard for her to get back up. The lust I had over that absolutely venemous power kind of scared me. I think it's time for Big Brother to put me away, or at least make sure that I never get any REAL power.

They say you know you're starting to master a new language when you start to think in that language. I started learning Spanish by audiobooks during my 2-hour commutes, and after the first week (after which I assumed I'd be fluent), I tried to figure out what language I think in. My conclusion: I don't think in any language. I think based on emotion and the purest and humblest form of the id. I am more of an instinctual robot than a thoughtful intellectual expressing my curiosity in the tongues of Shakespearean sonnets. My stomach grumbles, I look around for a red-haired girl on a sign telling me that I can get a double-stack hamburger for a buck. No English necessary. No thinking at all, in fact.