Not so bad

I happened upon this talk thanks to Nerdcore and as disturbing as some of the subject matter increasingly proves, it does at least leave me feeling very normal as a person.

Lego was a big part of my childhood, with a trip to Legoland in Denmark proving a particularly strong memory of my pre-New Zealand life. I have the ice cream containers full of bricks to prove it. You'll find them in the ceiling next to the (many) boxes for most of my more recent toy collection. Many bricks are charred, worn, discoloured, and broken with the sets they originally came from being largely incomplete. I won't sell them online for more recent children to enjoy, but then I don't want you to think I'll dig them out one day in a fit of nostalgia. I just don't get off on selling stuff I've previously enjoyed.

The point of all this prattling is I guess to rationalise my own fleeting-if-intense obsessions, certainly to a point where I don't feel quite so weird for so freely giving into them. After all, I could be worse.