Narcissus

So, it's 4am, and I'm awake (apparently that's what happens when you're convalescing and have slept for the past four days). So I think to myself, I'll write on my blog! Isn't that what people do with blogs? Well, anyway, apparently it's what I'm doing with this blog.
-pause, thinking what to write-
I've just been looking at all the places in Rome I'm going to drag Julie to see this summer because they have Caravaggio paintings. One of my life aspirations is going to be fulfilled within the next four months. That's pretty exciting, when you think about it. (Oh, I guess graduation's in there, too. But Caravaggio? Way more important.)
-pause-
Hm.
I've decided that blogs must by nature simply be narcissistic. I mean, why would I assume anyone would want to know or read any of this?
(By the way, Carvaggio painted Narcissus. As in the half river-god, self-obsessed breaker of Echo's heart, not the flower. Presumably not from life.)
(He may have painted the flower at some point, too, I don't know.)