If there's one thing that constantly swirls through my mind in the wee hours of the night, keeping me awake until the light of dawn breaks upon my sill, it's "Why do so many people love and adore my blog?" After I answer that question, I ask myself another question, which is, "Will I always be able to know exactly what people want, and I can keep giving it to them?" Satisfied with my answer to that question, I then ask, "What would happen if I were involved in an accident - would they be ok without my words, without my wisdom?" to which I have yet to find a suitable answer, and then I ask, "Is it true they can reverse a vasectomy?" and then I ask, "Is my leg asleep?" and then I sit up nervously, sweating, and shout to my roommate, "Hey C--!! Are you there!! Will you hold me?"
But during the day, as I sit at my desk and slowly change the world for the better, I am stricken with another, more relevant question: "Where did Patch Adams go, and will he make us laugh again?"