hello, my name is Compulsive Saver!

The pinky to pointer-ctrl + 's'-movement may very well be my quickest reflex. It's pretty beautiful that my hand fits the keyboard so perfectly as to allow for the essentially twitch like motion of saving to be repeated at an average of a little under once per line.

Oh, and don't ask about the way in which I choose to register my software.

Sleepwalking

I've recently become aware that the quirks in peoples' sleeping habits seem to be a popular topic of conversation. Whether someone sleepwalks, shouts, mumbles, speaks in Japanese, applies deodorant to computer monitors, or poos in the oven, almost everyone's got a story to tell. As I am currently preparing for my Econ final I just stumbled across a unique instance of this sort of story. At several points during the semester my level of fatigue outweighed my mind's investment in remaining alert, but as my eyes shut and my mind drifted away, my body grew rebellious and attempted to continue taking notes:

Now I tend to pride myself on my penmanship and, you know, things like grammar, at least to some extent (note that I am by no means professing any sort of superiority,) but I honestly have no recollection of what was going on, or for that matter what those scribbles signify. I love it!

The Eggman (woo)

I made this for a $3 limit "Yankee Santa Swap." Maybe it's a New England thing, 'cause where I come from we call 'em White Elephant Parties (and Wikipedia agrees.) Stinkin' Yankees. Speaking of teams, the Rockies lost Kaz Matsui, and in an even greater personal loss, Jamey Carroll (arguably the hairiest knuckles in baseball,) but let's not let this turn into a sports blog.

The gift I walked away with (coincidentally from the person who received my creation) was a CDR of an album by experimental French prog-rock/jazz band Magma called Mekanïk Destruktïw Kommandöh. As soon as I confusedly read the title aloud to the surrounding group, the gift giver claimed that it was one of the top 5 albums of all time. The album is in a made up language (rings a bell, right? [Sigur Rós]) called Kobaian, was released in 1974, and is, needless to say, very interesting. Here's a track:
Magma - Kobaia Is De Hundin

Write

Overly self conscious tendencies in writing unavoidable.
I need to define what and what not to write about.
All good writers seem well defined and principled in their choice of topic and approach. I must come up with similar (yet distinct) guidelines so as to maintain coherency, cohesion, etc., whatever.
I must be better at choosing the right word instead of listing several options.
People are attracted to decisiveness.
I must give up the idea of passing off my musings as those of a fictionalized character.
I am not that creative, and am far too transparent.
That's okay.
You may well know me through my words.
Don't use sentences just because they seem archaic and sound cool.
Limit your adjectives per sentence.
Don't be so vain:
Who do you think you are, writing yourself rules and guidelines for your own writing?
You are desperate, pathetic, and far too eager for acceptance.
Not only that, you are irreverently confident enough to parade your flaws as uniqueness.
Poor disguise, plea for sympathy.
It's just impossible to escape me.

Stop rhyming.