I have been waiting for my passport to arrive for two months. They lost my first one and the re-issued one still hasn’t arrived. I leave for London January 8 so needless to say I am intensely and stupidly stressed out.
But it’s Saturday and there’s nothing I can do until Monday and even then there’s the first as a national holiday so what can I really do except pray the UPS guy shows up and all my worrying is for naught.
To cheer myself up I decided to watch a romantic film on Netflixcalled Like Crazy. Big mistake. It wasn’t very good, even though Anton Yelchin was rather adorable. It just made me sad. It’s a make you sad kind of movie. Feel free to indulge if you want to see Jennifer Lawrence being pretty (even though she is a minor character).
It’s snowing currently and there’s nothing much to do. I have that feeling where I want to read but I’m not getting pulled into what I’m reading. It’s unfortunate. Well, here’s to hoping for the best.
If you celebrate that sort of thing, of course. That would be insensitive if I just assumed you celebrate Christmas.
I am pretty psyched right now about the new Doctor Who. What better way to end your holiday festivities than with the Doctor Who Christmas Special? Gotta love BBC America. There was much squeeing and much rejoicing. I’m excited about this new companion business. She’s rather adorable and I want to know what her whole deal is. I hope it’s remarkably clever.
I’m currently trying to decide if going to bed before midnight on Christmas is all right. I’ve found that the older I get the less likely I am to stay up all night or go out gallivanting. I’m tired. It’s kind of lame but sleep is so lovely.
I just finished Why We Broke Up by Daniel Handler.
I’m a huge fan of young adult fiction. Not enough authors trust the younger audience to be as clever, insightful, and smart as they really are. So when I have the pleasure of reading a book that gets it, I want to tell everyone I know.
I’m ready for a change. After nearly sixteen years of formal education I think trying something else for a while could be exciting.
I’ve never been good about finishing things, especially when it comes to writing. I like to start projects. Look at this thing all open and ready to be worked on, full of potential. It’s shiny.
My life is kind of like that right now. It’s in that stage – ready to get started. When I finished school last week (ONLY last week – I am not used to this yet) I had this thought. OK. Now I can start my real life. Yes. Like the life had lived for twenty-one years prior was not my real life. It was an illusion, a practice life where I was allowed to make all my bad choices and mistakes and from here on forward all will be momentous and magic and full speed ahead.