What looks white when it's glad, red when it's sad and transparent when scared; sleeps through the night yet hides from the sun, won't give its name but pretends it's a bee and enjoys rollerskating?
Last night I had a dream that Lothlorien was under attack; Celeborn went out to fight but got killed. Virtually no one knew he was dead; and if it did get out it would be a massive blow to army morale, and so Galadriel hired me as an actor to pose as Celeborn and cast some illusion spells over me so I'd look like him. 
I was going to really try to have a short chapter of Limits of Mercy up tonight, and this is how Facebook distracted me.
Below are the unedited comments I left.
How many people does this sleep?
Is there room for the water buffalos?
So I started thinking of a new story last night; placeholder name Crucible of Shadows that might be pony, or might be in my entirely own verse on a different website.
Sure; they're not very social and spend most of their time alone; though I'm not going to say that because a different species doesn't need friendship in the way that ponies do means they're evil.
"War. Famine. Disease. The world just keeps getting worse and worse, and it shows no signs of getting better."
It's easy to take this perception and here's why:
Suppose you live in a city with a 2 million people. 50,000 babies are born annually.
Generally speaking:
A large portion of African history has been one of tribal warfare where the stronger tribes kill/ rape/ enslave members of the smaller tribes.
A large portion of American Indian history has been one of tribal warfare where the stronger tribes kill/ rape/ enslave members of the smaller tribes.
A large portion of European history has been one of tribal warfare where the stronger tribes kill/ rape/ enslave members of the smaller tribes.
There were things in Enigma’s mind that should never have existed. Abominations born from the vain hubris and venal lusts which had infested Enigma during his selfish and uncontrolled youth. They were really scary. When Enigma stopped feeding them they shrunk some; but they were still in there, lurking, and if those naughty ideas found Enigma’s babies then Enigma wasn’t sure what would happen.
Enoch, do not read this
(Explanation: I know one of my mom’s students reads this blog, and he’s a bit young for this. He is however very honest and he probably won’t read this now.)
Bye Enoch!
Does anyone but me get annoyed at how unspecific most of the English language is?
Let’s say I did some work today and played some games, that means almost nothing; as I might have done some might mean five minutes or five hours.
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