...In which our heroine returns to proper form.

Let's ramble, shall we?

I just saw a delightfully adorable photo of a Boston Terrier in a Santa Hat. It never ceases to amaze me how I can draw equal pleasure from both zombies gnawing on human flesh or a cute baby animal. That makes me nostalgic for Odin's Word, and thinking of Cute Overload. I've been adhering to Sylvia Plath's wisdom lately of taking baths so hot you can only edge in one foot at a time. I don't understand - I hate being hot any other time, but I love hot baths. Last night it was hot to the point that I almost made myself pass out. I listened to "Nights in White Satin" in the dark bathroom and thought wintery thoughts. As much as I hate hate hate Christmas music, I'll listen to "Last Christmas," yes that "Last Christmas" by Wham! any day of the year. Heidi read my tarot cards in several variations tonight which never ceases to amuse me. I don't believe in god, but for some reason I listen to some colorful pieces of cardboard. I got the death card in every reading, which is actually not so bad. The words attached are things like "rebirth, new beginnings, desire, moving on."Another book she has talked about how the power card for Scorpios is death is not the end, but only a chance for resurrection. And somehow death is tied to Scorpios because we're the most sexual of the zodiac, to which the only connection I can make one Neil Gaiman short story talks about how the French call an orgasm la petite morte: the little death, and I suppose they're mostly right. I always liked that phrase or the other French phrase Mr. Gaiman taught me, l'espirit d'escaliers, the spirit of the staircase, meaning you remember the exact right thing to say as soon as you leave the party. I've had many of those nights. Tonight I ate an all-time Hall of Fame Chipotle burrito that had the perfect amount of corn salsa, but just a little too much cheese. John, it's a nice thought that you're telling me all I need is love right now, but terribly impractical. BUT, my finals are nearly done. I put finishing touches on my film today, and I'm a mere sound mix away from never having to shoot another film on a Bolex, although they are very cool cameras. Someone told me Columbia got the very last shipment of VHS tapes, in addition to owning the very last Bolexes. That "exes" looks weird in the last sentence. As people talk about Tiger Woods and Brian Kelley, I realize how little I care about sports. This shouldn't be a surprise, but then again, I haven't seen a movie in theaters in two months, which seems insane for a film major. The Cranberries on shuffle, the song takes me to 1995, Q102, Target parking lot, holding my new stamp shoe Barbie. Emily and I have been binging on 90s music this whole fall, crap from our childhoods that isn't any good, like Third Eye Blind, but then again neither is 80s music and I love that. I've been exploring Tumblr accounts lately - they start frequently with "fuck yeah" and end with "Christina Hendricks," or "beards," or my personal favorite, "beards and bacon." It never ceases to amaze me how much time people spend on the internet, because I know how much time I spend, which is too much, and they spend far more. In seven days, I will be a junior in college. I was at Big Art last night, and Joe told me to stay in college forever, and I nodded, smiled, because he is so damn cute and not nineteen. A man, not another silly boy. Motorhead, alright shuffle, I see we're behaving badly tonight. Skip. Now "Material Girl." Yes, Madonna, I'll listen to this garbage because it reminds of MTV clip specials I watched back when they still played music, and I still played Barbies.

Leah in Production II is using this in her final film. Gave me chills when she showed a rough cut.

ED. NOTE - Fixed "Least Christmas" back to the proper "Last Christmas." I think that was a Freudian blogger slip for actually talking about Wham! in a non-ironic context.