Network

You know what the only bad part about moving is? Packing. Seriously where did I even get all this stuff? I swear I must be a hoarder or something.

This would probably be a whole lot easier if I actually got a good night's sleep.

YES! We've got a live Weevil!

Good news everyone. I have been cleared for driving again! Just around my neighborhood, but still

And I can now work up to twenty-five hours a week.

Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back!

Well, crap. Parents decided it's an awesome idea to fly down from Alaska before the semester starts to 'see how I'm doing.' It's code for them trying at another round of convincing me to either join the military or med school.

On a side note, I wish I could have a cat and put a dragon costume on it.

Okay. So I'm pretty sure I just had The Dreams. It's pretty much the only explanation I have for the messed up shit that just went down while I slept.

So, like, I ended up joining NASA? (As if I'd ever have the actual patience to do that.) And I threw a fit when they didn't give me this fancy Space Cop job so I ended up stealing a ship and the title that went along with it, which, fun fact, was Star-Lord. Which is both freaky and awesome. So I took on this dude called The Fallen One or something like that and ended up killing several hundred thousand members of this race called ... Kree? Kree. I think it's Kree. And I went to jail. I mean, rightfully so. It was like genocide for a good cause but even I can't feel cool about that.

Then some big bro named Thanos came along and shit hit the fan and I got busted out of jail to help fight this big battle but my man pain was strong.

Pretty awesome dreams, eh? Eh?

Is social networking the new version of passing around business cards? People keep telling me I need to get on top of it. So here goes nothing, I guess.

Connor Russo. Pleasure.