my eating habits are worse in the wintertime, as if my body instinctively, somehow, wants to pack on the pounds and then prepare itself for hibernation. oh, if only.

I am in such a slump these days that I don't know what to write about.

I don't want to complain about my life because while I have little, I actually have a lot, and guilt hasn't yet taken the place of growing franticness over buying people Christmas presents.

I don't want to talk about you, because although you are back in my head again, I feel more sane about the whole thing, and going on about you would just perpetuate any reader's belief that I am an infatuation-ridden adolescent girl.

I don't want to talk about him, because it was pretty much exactly one year ago that the panic turned into pain, and there are nights when I skim through and lightly touch upon the thoughts of why I even liked him--possibly, loved him? Will I ever know?--and the pain isn't fresh, but it still aches. I feel sad, but I don't cry.

I don't want to talk about both the shows I'm working on right now, because one is almost over and the other--you know when you have to flick the wheel on a lighter a few times before you get a flame? Yeah.

I will say that I am FUCKING EXCITED for later, when I will get to see the midnight premiere of the first Hobbit installment with my friends. Not so excited for waiting in line, because it's freezing out here, but it'll be worth it.

Not feeling too inspired these days: I'm too tired. My brain only has time for visual fantasies before I fall asleep, so my little inspiration notebook has been sitting on my nightstand, untouched, for more than a month, now. Hopefully that will change soon, and hopefully a lot of my luck will change as well.

Until then...