Many people say that life isn't like a bed of roses. I beg to differ.

I think that life is quite like a bed of

roses. Just like life, a bed of roses looks pretty on the outside, but when you're in it, you find that it is
nothing but thorns and pain. I myself have been pricked quite badly.

There was a time when he would have embraced the change that was coming. In his youth, he sought
adventure and the unknown, but that had been years ago. He wished he could go back and learn to find
the excitement that came with change but it was useless. That curiosity had long left him to where he
had come to loathe anything that put him out of his comfort zone.

She counted. One. She could hear the steps coming closer. Two. Puffs of breath could be seen coming
from his mouth. Three. He stopped beside her. Four. She pulled the trigger of the gun.

I guess we could discuss the implications of the phrase "meant to be." That is if we wanted to drown
ourselves in a sea of backwardly referential semantics and other mumbo-jumbo. Maybe such a
discussion would result in the determination that "meant to be" is exactly as meaningless a phrase as it
seems to be, and that none of us is actually meant to be doing anything at all. But that's my existential
underpants underpinnings showing. It's the way the cookie crumbles. And now I want a cookie.

It was that terrifying feeling you have as you tightly hold the covers over you with the knowledge that
there is something hiding under your bed. You want to look, but you don't at the same time. You're
frozen with fear and unable to act. That's where she found herself and she didn't know what to do next

I inadvertently went to See's Candy last week (I was in the mall looking for phone repair), and as it turns
out, See's Candy now charges a dollar -- a full dollar -- for even the simplest of their wee confection
offerings. I bought two chocolate lollipops and two chocolate-caramel-almond things. The total cost was
four-something. I mean, the candies were tasty and all, but let's be real: A Snickers bar is fifty cents.
After this dollar-per-candy revelation, I may not find myself wandering dreamily back into a See's Candy
any time soon.

Stormi is a dog. She is dark grey and has long legs. Her eyes are expressive and are able to let her
humans know what she is thinking. Her tongue is long, pink, and wet. Her long legs allow her to sprint
after other dogs, people or bunnies. She can be a good dog, but also very bad. Her tail wags when happy
or excited and hides between her back legs when she is bad. Stormi is a dog I love.

She had been an angel for coming up on 10 years and in all that time nobody had told her this was
possible. The fact that it could ever happen never even entered her mind. Yet there she stood, with the
undeniable evidence sitting on the ground before her. Angels could lose their wings.