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Guys, he's not a dinosaur freak, he's a pteranodon enthusiast.

Oh I'm sorry. I thought this was dinosaur freak summer camp.

It goes without saying that someone talking to me while I've got headphones on is my biggest pet peeve in the world. Even moreso than loud chewing, repetitive noise, and screaming children.

If I've taken one earbud out five times in the past five minutes and am clearly trying to will you to spontaneously combust, take the hint and stop *talking* to me.

Look, just because I am physically present does not mean I'm *available*.

Normally headphones on is a sign that I'm busy and don't want to be talked to right now, but some people just can't take a hint.

Six months without a cat. Six months since I lost Belle, and it still hurts like it happened yesterday. Sometimes I still catch myself thinking that I need to feed her, or looking under my bed for her.

She would have been fifteen on the 29th.

My phone's full of pictures of my fuzzy little brat. I used to joke that the only reason I got one was to inflict pictures of her on other people.

I know I'll get another kitty one day, maybe the black cat I've always wanted. But not anytime soon.

The first part of an I-don't-know-how-many-yet horror story about an unfortunate person being tormented by an otherworldly creature.

Is it a ghost? Is it a demon? Hell, I don't even know yet. We'll see.

Revised and expanded from the two-hour rough draft I wrote a while ago. A ghost and his never-ending quest to keep the living out of his house.

I don't know if I'd wanna touch that stuff with my bare hands.

So I have a lot of feelings about what just happened, and all of them can be summed up as "white-hot, incandescent rage". Believe me, my family's had to hear plenty of it.

I want to just throw myself into my work and keep things off my mind for a little bit, but it's very, very hard right now.

The strangest line of criticism I've ever received was one I got in Creative Writing class. A good chunk of the class didn't see the point of me writing horror, because vampires, werewolves, zombies and so on "aren't real". Seriously, one guy even asked me "Why do you write about these things? You know they're not real, right?"

Well, yeah! Funny, I thought that when writing fiction you were entitled to write about *fictional things*.

Gotta love my friends' GroupMe chat, where we ask things like "So, are werewolves allergic to chocolate?" or "Can you drown in a vat of healing potion?"

I can't help but think that one or both of these issues will come up in a future game.

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