Seriously, I can’t shut up. “Loquacious” would be putting it nicely. “Needy, overwhelming persistence” would probably be more accurate. Hell, it’s why I’m a journalist: because I can’t keep myself from expressing every single utterly useless thought that slips into my head. Although I can fend off the urge to communicate for a few hours—sometimes by reading, or by thinking about my own twisted thoughts—this usually is followed up by an explosion of wordiness, wherein the first person I run into has to sit and listen to me excitedly rant about Darth Bane, Garth Brooks, Oppenheimer, or whatever the hell else I’m currently obsessing over.