(no subject)

I have a cold. MEH.

( And I have glitter. Fear. )

But I also have sushi and tiger balm, which is good. I have muscle aches from working out a little too much. On the plus side, I've been working out a little too much fairly consistantly. I should be in damn good shape by the time Maui rolls around in, oh, September.

I'm thinking about it far too much for it being still December.

I wake up every morning and take my pills. One to keep me physically healthy, one to keep me mentally healthy. The pill for my body is the size of a small pony. The pill for my emotions is a quarter the size of my pinky fingernail. Yeep. But I've been remembering to take them, so that's good. I've been eating mostly healthy, so that's good too. Except for the box of Black Magic my mother sent. Exercising. Stretching. My flexibility is totally shot. Here's hoping I can get it back again. I should be able to.

You know you all were curious. The phat hawl for this year was: an Ipod Nano from my mother (which was amusing since I'd been fretting about my old mp3 player dying a slow and painful death), Willow, Yellow Submarine, City of Lost Children, Muppet Christmas Carol anniversary edition complete with gag reel, Cats, A Chorus Line, L&O Criminal Intent seasons 1 and 3 (they don't have two released yet and I have no idea why), money as always, chocolate and chocolate and weirdass other food, a shawl, a scarf, red Thinsulate gloves (THINSULATE!), Hellboy comic, the Dragonology and Wizardology books, and a box of socks.

I actually spent more time squeeing over the box of socks than almost anything, and here's why. The box is about a foot and a half by 8" square. It's covered in red ... satin? That kind of red satiny material. And BEADS. So. Many. Beads. Beads and rhinestones. It's full of socks, but not just socks. Wacky socks. Fuzzy socks. Dare I say it, Fluffy socks. Brightly colored knee socks which I now have to wear with black just-below-knee length skirts and my boots. Because that is how you wear knee socks. These are socks of the entertaining. So's the box. It's all hilarious.

I also got, as per usual, a couple books on writing. And the Writers Markets for this year, both the Writer's Deluxe, the Short Story and Novel Writers', and the Guidet to Literary Agents. As stated previous, I think my family's trying to tell me something.

And I got a TRIP TO FUCKING MAUI.

So, yeah. All in all? A very good year. A good haul, and a good long conversation on the phone with my lunatic family. My dear old sweet old darling old lunatic family. And then I went upstairs and curled up and watched A Chorus Line and remembered the first twenty times I saw that movie. This was back when I was young, barely up to my teens, and still wanted to be a dancer. Thirty was old then. Now it's four and a half years away and I'm older than half the people in that movie are supposed to be. That's just creepy. Back when I wanted to be a dancer and thirty was old, before I decided that suffering and pain and starving for my art wasn't what I wanted to do at all.

So I decided to become a writer. Heh. Shaddup.

It was nice, though. Watching A Chorus Line and just remembering all those good things. Next up, Cats. And maybe the Muppet Christmas Carol. And L&O. SO MUCH L&O. The sad thing is I still have Season 3 of Roswell, Season 5 of Angel, and Season 1 of The Pretender that I haven't watched yet. I am a pathetic, silly person.

Actually, next up is sushi for lunch and then some writing. Because the holidays are over, the holiday rush is over, and I can't put this off much longer. I really shouldn't. Even if it scares me to death, although now it's more a 'ho hum, terrified again' kind of thing. Which is kind of weird.

Over and out.