(One more thought on the Twilight Zone marathon: You know, a commercial about how "you can reshape your entire body with one! light! portable! system!" might not be the best thing to run right after "Number Twelve Looks Just Like You." Either that, or someone in programming has a fantastic sense of humor.)
Meanwhile, I was fairly relieved to change out my calendar on New Year's Eve (another superstition of mine: never go into the new year with an old calendar). In my own naive way, I'm convinced that 2007 has to be a good year, because it couldn't be any worse than 2006. Again, I say naive because of course it could be worse, because I'm here and I have all my limbs and mental faculties and a nice place to live and I'm not begging on the street. I guess I'm thinking in terms of my own depression--I couldn't possibly screw up my life, mostly by inaction, than I did last year. It's got to be uphill from here. The Wheel of Fortune is my personal card, and I have to believe that I'm cycling upwards again.
( Death by cotton candyCollapse )