We were carrying “the philosopher” across the bridge and someone complained about how they wished that they got to be in the cart. I told them that if that were the case, they would constantly be leading the “shit wars” and it would not be a desirable experience. After all, there was more to leadership than the luxury of your servants.

We watched a timelapse of a heatmap depicting places of criminal activity over the course of a night.

We had just picked up our baggage but we were unable to find the area to declare our items. We simply had a few sealed bags of dry snacks with us but my mother insisted that they had to be declared. “Should we have even carried these with us then?” I asked. “No.” was the response.*

We walked into our new house and I asked my dad what floor we would be staying at. “The sixth” he replied. “On which [floor] are we getting married?” I further inquired. “Not here” was the response. I reasoned that I must be living on the fifth floor with the knowledge that my bedroom would be a floor below my parents’. “How many floors are there?” I asked again - and then additionally asked in the kitchen below ground floor counted as the first floor or the basement.

We sat around the table in a restaurant for lunch and we were introducing ourselves before we started our meals for it was the beginning of the year. We were to say our names as well as one “relatable” thing about ourselves. Of the two people preceding me, one talked about how they go to the library sometimes but later retracted that statement. The other mentioned how they were playing a game set in the time period of colonial Taiwan. When it got to my turn, I blanked out and was unable to say anything until the group just skipped over me. When it was time for the girl to the right to introduce herself, she was cut off and corrected for saying her own name wrong.

I was watching a stream of someone playing a UMS Starcraft:Brood War game. It seemed to be not working as intended or massively unbalanced in a way so they opened up the map in the map editor in an attempt to fix it.

I was at my aunts apartment and looked out of the window to see a toddler and his father playing on the roof of another building. The father had a variety of tools with him, including one to rotate the metal girder perpendicular to the building so that it reached all the way to our side. This is when the child starts to cry as they’re being carried over a gap about 15 stories off the ground. I waved at the father and he waved back with a smile.

We were running on the highway to catch an airplane that was departing soon. Someone wasn’t going to be joining us because they decided that they wanted to sleep in instead. My mother asked me when I “g[o]t so good at waking up” in the mornings. I told her that it was due to a constant state of anxiety. My sister-in-law crossed the road without looking and produced, what she herself described as, a loud “sonorous sound” when she nearly collided with a car around the corner.

We were racing in a residential area with our swing cars. I was on a red one. As we rolled down the hill to the roundabout, I heard cheering from one of the houses behind us but I was unable to locate which one it came from. I steered from side to side at a constant rate to climb up the hill as I approached someone ahead of me. I started to loudly hum a tune from Mario Kart as I surpassed him.

We were trying to book a time to watch a documentary somewhere. It proved to be too difficult to reserve a room so we had the choice of either postponing it or doing it earlier.