I hate rain. And uncertainty. And my life seems to be filled with a lot of both lately. And for some reason I always think of my life as a classic piece of literature. So I hope all of this rain isn't overshadowing extreme darkness and depression in my future. Because I've been feeling really anxious and nervous lately. *dramatic sigh*

As I read the title of this blog I just started I realize that it could be taken a few different ways. So we'll just leave it open to interpretation. Don't you hate hate when you have a dream that there's a serial killer in your house (or hotel room. But that didn't seem as easily identifiable with the masses so I chose to generalize a bit) and then you can't fucking fall asleep and it's 3:30...

Usually when I sit down to post a blog I take my time, organize my thoughts, and try to write in a smooth and poetic fashion. Not today, though. A lot has been on my mind these days. College, my career, my future, the annoying fact that the Bengals have opted to hire Marvin Louis again. But I can’t seem to rid my mind of pessimistic and overall disparaging thoughts. I have come to the not...

So as most of you probably know, last week was the 4th of July. Independence Day. America’s birthday. The day when dogs lose their minds. The day it sounds like an overhead air-rade. El dia de muchos fireworks. The day that will inevitably end up in a migraine headache from all the fucking explosions. You may call it whatever you like. It’s that one day a year when America silences...