The only thing that scares me more than space aliens is the idea that there aren’t any space aliens. We can’t be the best that creation has to offer. I pray we’re not all there is. If so, we’re in big trouble.
I used to beat myself up about weight and working out, and no matter what I did I never felt good about myself. I decided to accept myself and know that I am good.
I hate having to do small talk. I’d rather talk about deep subjects. I’d rather talk about meditation, or the world, or the trees or animals, than small, inane, you know, banter.
I don’t want to get the same looks I give people when they get on a plane holding a baby: “That’s a cute baby, just keep walking, keep walking, keep going, keep going.
I was coming home from kindergarten – well they told me it was kindergarten. I found out later I had been working in a factory for ten years. It’s good for a kid to know how to make gloves.
So, I bought a new CD and I was trying to get it open but couldn’t with all the layers… I mean plastic and then tape, and the tape is like government tape. It says ‘open here.’ Is that sarcasm?
