The scene unfolds:

Little fuzzy caterpillar climbing up the wall, sliding past a reproduction of Claude Monet’s Nympheas. He falls, quickly and silently, landing on the hideous pale pink guestroom carpet next to a small piece of black something the vacuum must have missed. Crawling under the desk, checking if he’s okay. Yes, still moving, let him crawl onto my index finger and transport him safely to the top of the monitor. All is well. Watch as he slowly climbs across the screen, until he falls yet again onto the copy of disk number two of Final Fantasy 8 which Adam left carelessly behind after one of his mad thieving sessions of crazy disk burning and copyright violations. Now little caterpillar is resting peacefully on disk 4. He has 14 legs, perhaps 16 if you count the tiny pokey things beneath his chin. Small, rust-colored dots decorate his back in a neat row, while impressively long tufts of hair protrude from where I assume his eyes should be. Antennae, I suppose. The rest of his body is various shades of brown. He is no more than an inch long, and is now climbing along a Super Sharpie marker and onto a lonely jewel case. He is searching, searching, searching…

So much to do, but nothing in particular. Lots of motivation, no direction. I have written exactly forty-nine thank you cards in three days, and currently have thirteen more to go. Graduation is a profitable stage of life to pass through. I have finished high school, have three months of idleness, and then it’s off to college. The usual.

He has returned to the Sharpie. I believe he has discovered the length of his body is exactly equal to that of the diameter of the marker, and therefore feels a remarkable magnetic attachment distracting him from his search. Well, no, he has moved on to FF8 disk #1. And so it continues.

I watched a movie with my dad this evening. Unfortunately the movie sucked. I do not recommend Dungeons and Dragons to any respectable, intelligent viewing audience. Nice special effects, but horrible overdramatic Shakespearian acting taken completely out of context and thrown into a ridiculous plot of predictable silliness. The empress looks like the pudding-filled balloon boob chick from Now and Then, or perhaps Danny, the little girl from Hocus Pocus. This disqualifies her from portraying any sort of authority figure, and thus distracted me throughout the movie. Not to mention the entire ordeal reeked of Phantom Menace, complete with lightning swords and strangely dressed leaders.

The caterpillar has retired to the sugar maple beside the deck in the backyard, where he will find comfort in nature instead of the pink polyester fibers he was formerly entrenched in.