"I don't suffer from existential angst. I just have resting dread face." Timothy Petraitis, Existential Angst Sufferer

Trees rise from the earth in slow turns of the stars. Each branch reaches skyward to pull in the sun and breath green life into the space we inhabit for too short a season. It is this verdant life that has captivated us for millennia, and once we called the forest canopy home before moving onto the earth and into proper homes. I think that was a mistake.

BECAUSE I STILL CAN'T GET INSURANCE BECAUSE OF THE TREE THAT GREW WITHOUT ANY ENCOURAGEMENT FROM ME TOO CLOSE TO MY ROOF! If I had planted the tree and loved it and fertilized it with my tears when I was sad, encouraged it with my laughter when I was happy and fed it on my own dreams it would not have grown as tall or as fast as it did. I believe it is a spite tree and I'm not one hundred percent certain the tree is not the one calling my insurance company just to annoy me.

Speaking of annoying, some kid told me without a lot of prompting, that her parents were building a home for really old people in Colombia, and I could go live there. That's encouraging because a tree might fall on my house.

I learned today that at least a third of my seniors (these are people that drive, have jobs and can probably vote in the near future) objectively believe that the author of Brutus 1 may in fact have been a capybara. Really.