Okay.
I lied.
This is a post done in the evening.
Not during the morning.
I don't know. Sometimes, I wonder why I have so much to write about...especially since I've started cutting out writing about the people in my life --- 'cause let me tell ya, when someone finds your blog and realizes you're writing about them, it ain't pretty.
I was just so fucking sleepy this morning.
I didn't have the greatest night last night, either. I wasn't feeling so great and I was shaking as I frantically turned my bag inside out, trying to find my pills. That's why I kind of get what House was going through in that last episode.
Life can be really crap when you deal with chronic pain.
But, anyway...last night, there was nothing to watch and I needed a break from re-reading "Pride and Prejudice." I'd begun to look at my library the other day and started to feel like I'd sunk a whole lot of money into building up that library...and for what? I don't often re-read my books. And at last count, I actually have three copies of "Othello". Why? Yes, it's my favourite play by the Bard, but I don't exactly need three copies.
And I can't take all of these books with me when I die. I can't take any of the stuff I own with me when I die.
I always tell myself this whenever I want to try and curb my spending habits. And yet, today, I bought more clothes.
New Year's resolution #37: spend less.
A couple of friends mentioned they didn't like the fact that I keep talking about how I'm going to change a lot of things about myself as of January 1, 2007. They don't think there's anything that needs to be changed; I just think they're afraid the sarcastic, bitchy person who says the first thing that crosses her mind is going to disappear.
Um, yeah. That's not happening.
So, anyway, it's been awhile since I last read "Pride and Prejudice." Yes, it's Austen's most popular work, but I actually love it the best. But...last night, I put the book aside and tuned into TLC, where they had this feature on this three-year-old girl named Juliana Wetmore, who has Treacher Collins Syndrome. The show was called, "Building A New Face".
Whoa.
That's all I can say. I mean, you feel sorry for the child and you can't help but admire the parents for being so strong and loving, but you also wonder if you'd have that kind of strength if your own child was born with this disease.
I was reading about it online...the chances of being born with this syndrome is about 1 in 10,000; it's a lottery you don't want to win. The emphasis on most of the sites was about how people born with this syndrome may look physically very different from so-called "normal" folk, but that they're just like you and me.
Anyways...
Something else that I'd recently watched was "Mad Hot Ballroom", which I absolutely loved --- especially that one kid, Wilson? Oh my God. Could he be any cuter?
I just loved the whole message of the documentary and seeing those kids work so hard, learning how to dance.
It was a great doc.
I lied.
This is a post done in the evening.
Not during the morning.
I don't know. Sometimes, I wonder why I have so much to write about...especially since I've started cutting out writing about the people in my life --- 'cause let me tell ya, when someone finds your blog and realizes you're writing about them, it ain't pretty.
I was just so fucking sleepy this morning.
I didn't have the greatest night last night, either. I wasn't feeling so great and I was shaking as I frantically turned my bag inside out, trying to find my pills. That's why I kind of get what House was going through in that last episode.
Life can be really crap when you deal with chronic pain.
But, anyway...last night, there was nothing to watch and I needed a break from re-reading "Pride and Prejudice." I'd begun to look at my library the other day and started to feel like I'd sunk a whole lot of money into building up that library...and for what? I don't often re-read my books. And at last count, I actually have three copies of "Othello". Why? Yes, it's my favourite play by the Bard, but I don't exactly need three copies.
And I can't take all of these books with me when I die. I can't take any of the stuff I own with me when I die.
I always tell myself this whenever I want to try and curb my spending habits. And yet, today, I bought more clothes.
New Year's resolution #37: spend less.
A couple of friends mentioned they didn't like the fact that I keep talking about how I'm going to change a lot of things about myself as of January 1, 2007. They don't think there's anything that needs to be changed; I just think they're afraid the sarcastic, bitchy person who says the first thing that crosses her mind is going to disappear.
Um, yeah. That's not happening.
So, anyway, it's been awhile since I last read "Pride and Prejudice." Yes, it's Austen's most popular work, but I actually love it the best. But...last night, I put the book aside and tuned into TLC, where they had this feature on this three-year-old girl named Juliana Wetmore, who has Treacher Collins Syndrome. The show was called, "Building A New Face".
Whoa.
That's all I can say. I mean, you feel sorry for the child and you can't help but admire the parents for being so strong and loving, but you also wonder if you'd have that kind of strength if your own child was born with this disease.
I was reading about it online...the chances of being born with this syndrome is about 1 in 10,000; it's a lottery you don't want to win. The emphasis on most of the sites was about how people born with this syndrome may look physically very different from so-called "normal" folk, but that they're just like you and me.
Anyways...
Something else that I'd recently watched was "Mad Hot Ballroom", which I absolutely loved --- especially that one kid, Wilson? Oh my God. Could he be any cuter?
I just loved the whole message of the documentary and seeing those kids work so hard, learning how to dance.
It was a great doc.
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