I swear this isn’t a cop-out, denizens.

Okay, it sort of is a co-pout. I’m still working on that solution for how to either cram more hours into one day or more work into the time that I have. I’m not quite there yet. I’ve got a few other posts that I’m working on (including one that I’ve been working on since…around Mayish of this year o_O). But in the interim, I thought you might enjoy this random photo that I discovered earlier this week while going through some digital photo archives:

This is just a sampling of the weirdness from my adolescence that I deemed important enough for my parents to have to transport to another state and into another attic in another house from the one in which I lived. Totally understandable, though, right? I mean who wouldn’t want a bajillion different stuffed Scooby Doos (and a mini pillow!!) and mini posters of Data and Dr. Crusher.

[Loba Tangent: As much as I love both of these characters, these poses have always bothered me, especially for Dr. Crusher. Why is the doctor seen getting ready to shoot someone? Couldn’t they have taken a picture of her with a medical tricorder? A hypospray? Either one of those would have been more appropriate than this Hippocratic anathema…]

Also, check the basketball on the bottom shelf. I bought that at a Hardee’s somewhere along the I-95 corridor, during the first part of our senior class trip. Ah, our class trips. Now those are stories I should tell sometime. When the therapy is finished. And the PTSD and nightmares have finally stopped.

See you soon, denizens. I hope…