This website is called sparklyfresh.com, and yet it's been nearly a 8 months since I posted any sort of news. How lame is that? I apologize. Now then, on with the random stream of thought.
I'm sitting here in the library, taking a break from the enormous amount of research I have to do. Call me a nerd, but recently I've sort of started to enjoy reading about the Narrative Paradigm Theory by your favorite communication's theorist, Walter R. Fisher. It's all about stories and how there's a narrative present in any form of communication, regardless of its nature. As you may be aware, I love telling stories, and so being given the tools to dig deeper into the stories I tell and read is sort of fun. Anyway, on to my ninja fantasy.
The library has many rows of books. This is no fascinating thing, and is actually quite typical for a library. Moments ago I envisioned a ninja peeking his head (or hers--I mean, have you seen the female Ninja Warrior show on G4 TV? Those girls will mess you up) around one of the rows of books. I caught the ninja in the act, you see. So the ninja runs away, acting like I never saw it. Yeah, right. I caught you, ninja. Some ninja that was. I should be dead right now if it were a real one. This is when the daydream really begun. I went after this so called ninja and to my surprise there was a cougar blocking my path. I battled it, and won with only minor injuries. I peaked around the corner and was no longer in a library in California...I was in a library in south east Nebraska. I didn't even know they had people, let alone libraries, in Nebraska. As I weaved my way through various rows of agricultural books, I could sense danger approaching. A man with arms bigger around than my head came at me with a torch. I jumped back in preparation for a fight, but he wasn't there to fight me. He gave me the torch, and said I needed to use it for my quest. I thanked him (his name was Rusty Hazzard), and continued. He followed. I soon found myself looking at three small statues. They each had a fuse leading to them. I asked Rusty what this meant, and he said that he didn't have a clue, and that I should just light them. I lit them all because I felt like it. They all exploded into thousands of tiny, flaming pieces. The library quickly caught on fire. Rusty and I ran, but standing between us and the exit was a legion of ninjas. One of the ninjas, the leader, had a silver mowhawk. He looked at me and then told me to get back to work on my research. I conceded and walked back to California with my head hanging in shame. The library, I imagine, won't be missed. |
Anyway, here's a linky: