...I am Ender Wiggin

I just finished Ender's Game last night. I was in my bed with my wife, who was restlessly trying to sleep considering the nightstand lamp was on. (I guess it doesn't help that my condition doesn't allow me to read silently, what with my lack of inner narration.) (I guess it also doesn't help that my reading voice carries the accent of a 23 year old seductive Frenchman named Claude.) I finished the novel, closed the book with a satisfied smile, and was reaching to turn off the lamp when Windy looked up and said to me with a straight face "now, hurry up and get to class." Had I not known she was prone to talk in her sleep, I may have been a little frightened. I may have asked her if she was feeling okay. Instead, I let out a quiet laugh, told her that she needed to get to class, turned off my lamp, and rested my head upon my awaiting pillow.

P.S. I had a terrible night's sleep.

My Sentiments Exactly

I did a Google Image search for "glorious turd" and the only image that appeared was this: a screenshot from the Stephen King based horror film, Dreamcatcher. Of the many things I expected to qualify as being a "glorious turd," this movie was suprisingly not one of them. Don't get me wrong, the movie was, indeed, a turd. But I wouldn't necessarily call it glorious. "Malodorous" maybe. Even "horrendous" would have fit. But "glorious" is giving the movie more credit than it is due.

The great thing, though, is the picture itself. What are the two actors looking at with such intimidating territorialism? Or is it curious acceptance? You decide. Either way, the guy with the arms is cool. He was in Band of Brothers. Jason Lee, the other guy, although not too awesome on his own, was in Almost Famous. One of my favorites. (The movie, not Jason Lee.)

Apart from that, I am currently reading Ender's Game. Upon concluding Orson Scott Card's magnum opus, I will express my utter exerberance for this stunning script that has seduced my beguiled heart. That is, on the assumption the ending doesn't suck.