Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners…

…now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

The fancier this becomes, the more dissatisfied I grow.

Time is once again convoluting into a viscous haze of people and places which I neither bother nor care to remember.  I’ve often found that my mind has a tendency to disengage at the most inopportune times, and it seems as though this is no exception.  In this aspect I take after my father, who, when faced with a difficult or trying situation, chooses to pretend it does not exist.  And though I am often disgusted by what I perceive to be a fatal weakness, I shamelessly glut myself upon my own fallabilities, despite condemning the same fallabilities in others.

Yes, without a doubt I am a hypocrite, and even an unabashed one at times.  Occasionally I am troubled by scruples, more often that I really care to admit. In such cases, I might even exhibit a conscience.  Which is completely inconvenient, as I am trying to give the aura of carelessness and loose morals that is so easily achieved by many of my contemporaries.

One intrigue of the human capacity for written language is the ability to notate a great deal and communicate very little.  Indeed, it is a pleasure I often partake in, seeing how superfluous I can be in my usage of words.  Of course, I cannot deny that such excess is simply a means for me to show of my command of the language as obtained through my superior education at such fine institutes as the local public high school.

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.  Wit is a cleverly expressed idea.  It’s really a wonder that anything ever gets written, as nearly every word has an ambiguous definition.

I find it remarkable that I have typed several paragraphs and have not once mentioned what was truly on my mind.  Which is for the best, as what was on my mind was highly personal, and I would have regretted typing it, and would likely have erased it.  As it stands, I have used big words and long sentences to bring a peace of mind that whining about my minute troubles could never give. 

And, with a final flourish of her virtual pen, she glanced briefly over what she had written, and hastily quit the entry, for fear of rambling further.