* I have decided that the other half of my sisters Christmas present will be a new pair of circular needles and a really nice, soft yarn. My mom bought her tiny straight needles that feel, to me at least, like boat oars, and this scratchy blue yarn. My sister, as some of you are aware is not snobby, but she's very picky about the things she wears and touches, so of course the thing which will least encourage her to knit is scratchy yarn. I know she wants to knit because she actually bothered to go find her knitting things (my sister is 11... to her, looking for something constitutes standing in the door way and then saying she can't find it if it's not laying in plain sight less than 2 feet from her eyes.) She's sat fingering the stitches of Chris's blanket and exclaimed on more than one chilly evening, "see! if my scarf (the one I'm making her) were finished I could be wearing it right now!" Besides, it'll be a good me-n-her type thing. Woot.

* I just want to knit and sleep and watch tv with my boyfriend. But mostly knit, especially after the completion of my knitting paper and feeling so very empowered. I have decided to knit my first sweater very soon, and I've also decided it will come from the pages of Stitch 'n Bitch, the book that is my new bestest. friend. ever.

* I'm sort of wearing of being on a campus with a bunch of people who are younger than my oldest memories. I was developing consciousness of my existence before they were conceived. It's depressing and it makes me feel old. *sigh*

* I've reached the point in my education where everything is rendered ironic and self-defeating. Example: We can't examine literature from an objective standpoint because it is humanly impossible to get outside of the cultural system in which we exist. Furthermore, humans can't understand truth because everything we think or see is already interpretation. And if everything is interpretation, there is really no point in trying to actually know anything. Uhm.... okay, genius, then why am I here?

* There is a war brewing in my household over whether there is any harm over letting Franny in when she is supervised at all times and spends the entire time on the bed hanging out with Fuzzy. Why is it that my grandmother and uncle = assholes? I swear it's like they have weekly meetings to plot their strategy to make my life more stressful and miserable by acting against my boyfriend. I can't wait until we have our own place and I never have to actually go back there again, except to pick up Amie and/or the Mamma.

more later, time for Shakespeare (insert forced enthusiasm here.)