To exert proper force on the fulcrum, both hands must be securely fastened.

I want to go white-water rafting tomorrow, but the only problem is, I'm pretty much a pussy. People die doing that shit. Can you bring your own helmet? What if there are rapids? Do I need to sign a waiver?   I feel most secure in my own helmet.   Also, I've only been dating the guy for two days. Isn't that a little soon to go rafting? If I have to depend on him for survival, do I have to blow him if he saves my life? What is the rafting etiquette for that? I don't know man, I don't know. I’m all pumped to go, right? Like, FUCK YEAH, I'M GONNA GET MY RAFT ON! But then I started reading. That’s always my downfall. I start spam researching everything I can find on something. Every single aspect of anything, I HAVE to know it. So, now I've spent the past three hours reading about rafting fatalities. And I'm stoned, and that leads to paranoia, so all signs are pointing to sitting my ass on dry land. I should never read. Life would be easier if I had never learned how. Then again, I'd also be a fucking retard, so, you never know. I am not breaking anything. If I break something, that means doctors. Do you know what doctors mean? Needles and pain and death. What if they need to take a blood sample to make sure that the splintered bone sticking out of my skin isn't infected with microbes in the water? Have you looked at what has been happening in fresh water lately? Amoebas in water, being forced up the nose and into the sinuses, i.e., drowning, have begun burrowing their way into the brains of a host, killing them. It’s fucking terrible. What makes you think I'd enjoy that? You sick fuck. All of that would suck. And that's not even going into what would happen to my corpse. I want to look pretty at my funeral, not bloated out. Presuming Bigfoot doesn't find me. Don't even get me started on Bigfoots. I am growing increasingly terrified by the second. I’m also a mad scientist, so I'm spending my Saturday night holed up in my room on the internet while I research the best way to tune in a homemade radio to hear natural electromagnetic frequencies generated by storms on the sun. Basically, I’m splicing a bunch of two way radios I got for cheap at the store, with some magnet wire blahblah blah, a few diodes and my trusty soldering iron. My goal? To make an amateur homebrew radio; not to communicate, oh no, but to use for amateur astronomy. You see, I also enjoy learning about time travel.  I do not have a caboose. Merely a time-train. I circle the earth at nearly the speed of light. Time slows down at such intense speeds, so that the superimposed universe speed limit (speed of light) can never be breached. Ergo, I am from the future. Hello. I have a helmet. Should I, you know, need it. And who says I'm human? I'm actually a cyborg. I am of highly advanced technology. I was sent to explore and rectify the mistakes of the past, so that a better future may be possible for all. I believe that poetry is a poor form of art for people who aren't smart enough to form logical, complete sentences. Unless it's good poetry, like Poe. But most of the time, poetry all sounds the same. "The black river dog, sunning in the moon, leaving his trails on the delight of thine rose lips." I stand by the fact that short stories and essays are superiour because they employ logic and order. Logic and order are clean and perfect and to be upheld. Science and straight lines man. I have a barren white bedroom. I wear dresses and shoes, never pants and shirts. They are sloppy. My key ring only has four keys.  I polish things that don't need polishing. My closet is perfectly organized by season and then color. Winter blacks, winter colors in ascending order from darkest to brightest. So on and so forth with subsequent seasons. I also have the shoes and sunglasses with them. The jewelry is much the same. Why would you want anything else than always knowing where everything is, what it does, how it works, and who put it there? My ultimate career goal is "question answerer." I really want to go out to my car and grab my notebook, for I have printed a new story and need to hole punch and insert it into the proper area of my notebook. However, the darkness outside is utterly horrifying. I loathe living in the woods. I know what lurks in the dark. Bats. Bigfoot. Wampus cat. Chittering demons. Hitler. Etc.