Good hot damn.

I don't know if I've brought this up yet, but I watch Doctor Who. Do you? You should. Well, I'm not sure if you should anymore, because I don't know what will happen in the episodes yet to be. But you should definitely see the last two series*.

Last night, they aired the second series* finale in the United States. (I know!) I was fucking devastated  . It was so awesome. I may or may not have seen a better hour of television, but if I have I can't remember right now.

I traveled back in time to read the reviews of some English friends and I have to agree:
[Begin Spoiler for Doctor Who: "Doomsday" — Highlight to view]

The final scene was entirely unnecessary and I wish they hadn't done it. Although, to be honest, I only half noticed it. Half my brain took it in and said, "Oh. This is disappointing." The other half of my brain was still sobbing and fucking devastated  . Seriously, it was awesome!

[End Spoiler]

* because it's English.

Oh, alright.

No one was waiting for me to do this, I'm sure, but I've finally seen enough other people do it to want to do it myself. But with DIFFERENCE! This is that thing where I reproduce the first sentence of the first post of each month this year that I made. (Clausey!) I will write it a la storied paragraph. I do not know what that means.

Please note that I am currently irrational with glee, and not apt to find answers such as, "I was unaware." to be acceptable. If you are reading this right now, you should go here. My head is, sometimes literally, abuzz with thoughts these days. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I am cold. I would like to announce that I have emerged, technologically speaking, from the dark murky atmosphere of the early 2000s, and have landed myself firmly in the middle 2000s. There's a place for everything, and everything should be in its place. Okay, since none of you know this, I will start at the beginning. You know something is amiss when you can feel relieved that it's only 87°. Oh come on ! Television starts this week! What else is going on? So at 9:39AM yesterday I was turning 23 and ... buying some iced tea from the CVS.


It's like a story that never quite gets there!

I believe it's spelled "SQUEEEEE"?

I'm not usually one to do this sort of thing. But it's the last time I'll ever be able to.

The title of the Seventh Harry Potter book is

[Begin Spoiler for WAIT FOR IT — Highlight to view]

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

[End Spoiler]

Also - a step behind.

I discovered recently that liking the Decemberists hasn't been cutting edge for a while. Hating  them is cutting edge. I am so sad. But I'm hip to being square - they still fill my heart with rainbows.

Also, what the hell Blogger? The new Blogger is out of beta! Just when I was starting to appreciate being in the exclusive club! Why must fate toy so with me?

11:30 tonight -- BE THERE.

By "there" I mean "your couch" or "your bed" or "your chair" or whatever. Although most of you don't watch television on television, so this instruction is probably moot.

Stephen Colbert vs. The Decemberists.

Most entertaining thing ever? I think so.

It's hard to argue with that.

Joy to the world,
The Jupe is come.

Joy To The World
from the Christmas Song Generator.

Get your own song :

Also, I'm sorry, Pat.

I have the Beta.

I don't know what happened! They just said I could have it! So I said okay! I don't even know why it's so special! I'm completely unworthy of this honor!

But is it art?

I often say that I have always wanted to be an actress. To be honest with you, this is not an entirely accurate representation. The first thing I ever wanted to be, and ever told people that I wanted to be, was an "artist." Always forward thinking I, I left it vague. While performance was always swirling around at the top, I also had ambitions to be a singer, a painter, a ballerina, a sculptor, a musician, a photographer, a writer, or what have you. If it fell under the "art" then I wanted to do it. This is still, for the most part, true.

Now, my li'l ol' heart's desire is to be an actress. This is clear. However, it's become apparent to me that performing arts differ from other types of arts in a key, maddening, way: you don't actually get to do much art. Acting doesn't often get recognized as being an art these days, and that makes me sad. Writing or music, I think, has an advantage in that you do your thing first, and then your challenge is to get someone to recognize it. With acting, you need to jump through all manner of hoops before you even get to do your thing. Expressively yourself creatively is like a prize that you have to fight and claw for. Depressing.

Not that the goal is any less attractive for this realization. But. As I've been sitting around lately, all melancholy and at-loose-ends, I've realized that I might pursue other artistic avenues. You know, add some pretentious slashes to my career goals. Also, over the past year I've ... gotten fat. I'm working on it! I'm eating much better and I plan on actually doing something physical with my body sometime soon. But no one is going to hire me when I'm fat. This must be what it is, since I rock in precisely all other capacities. I need something to do in the meantime, though.

But what! I don't know. I'm good at many things. [/HUMILITY ALERT] But I don't really have a driving passion for any of them. I make figurines out of clay, like the kind I could sell at art fairs for primo buckos, but we got rid of our wooden kitchen table when we moved, and I haven't done anything since because that was my work station. In a similar vein, I rock at embroidery. At an art fair like mentioned above, I saw these embroidery works by this Asian lady that she was selling for hundreds of dollars. I believe it. Unfortunately, I know how hard she had to work for that price tag. "I could do that," I pompously thought, but the truth is I don't have the time. I don't have the time! Plus, art fairs? Eh .

I could take up painting, I guess? When I was in 7th grade and taking natural sciences, we had an assignment to draw pictures of the various types of clouds. Instead of doing that I busted out with an OIL PAINTING of clouds, Bob Ross-stylee. (I did random and crazy shit like this all the time, do not be alarmed.)

I could always write, as many people have told me. Not that you can tell from reading anything I say on the internet, I actually have a fair amount of skill at writing. Unfortunately, I have no skill whatsoever at storytelling. (I apologize if this sounds familiar to some readers, as I have totally discussed this with people before.) The first time anyone told me I was good at writing, I was 10 and in 6th grade. We were commissioned to write short stories for Halloween and I kicked it out of the park and my teacher actually discussed my mad skill with my parents. What they didn't know, however, is that I really had to work to come up with actual events for my story. In the end I wound up opting for a generic kids-investigate-haunted-house type thing. I have at least 3 ideas for major works that have lived in my head for a while. But no storylines. Just a gaggle of well developed characters with complex relationships and lives and thoughts who do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. (Talk about "write what you know," right? Shit.) I guess this is why I like acting. The story's already written for you, you just have to fill in the details. (Ooh! Ooh! That reminds me. You remember my friend Jen? Jen was a kick-ass artist in the field of drawing. She used to draw pictures, and I would color them in with colored pencils, totally re-inventing Chiaroscuro all by myself. No, seriously, they looked awesome. But I only ever liked the shading. I never could have done anything if she didn't draw the picture for me first. I have no idea why I'm saying this here, but it does fit with the theme.)

I've even taken a class (no, wait, two) in storytelling, and I'm still not any good at it. I've read "Story" by Robert McKee, and I'm still not any good at it! I don't know. I shouldn't really make it seem like I'm bad at it, because the truth is, I don't actually try. I feel something akin to social anxiety when I need to make actual plot decisions. I took a class in screenwriting, and as a final I wrote a short-film. My professor told me that mine was very good, but he didn't understand why the main character made the decision that lead to the action of the story. Not a big deal, but it still took me two years to realize and admit to myself that he was right.

I'm starting to not have a point. Upshot: I don't know if writing is the path for me. I'd be willing to give it a shot, because I may be wrong. I could also write stories based on my dreams. [/another post entirely]

Finally, I could be a musician of some sort. Problem with that is, of course, I don't really play any instruments. At least until I teach myself bass. I could sing, but people hate singers who do nothing else (people = I). Also, music requires a.) writing songs, which combines my issues with writing fiction AND my issues with writing poetry, b.) the ability to read music (probably) which I never learned, and c.) meeting and dealing with other people, if you want to be in a band. I hate people. Other than this, I'd probably love it.

Speaking of which (sort of), here's an anecdote designed solely to present my life as more interesting and glamorous than it actually is:

My father's friend owns an honest-to-goodness literal castle that used to house his law firm. Also, in the 70s it housed a cult until the leader was extradited to India after he tried to poison people with salmonella. They've been trying to sell the joint for about four years now.

The company that I work for sells insurance. Today we were speaking with a woman who put in an offer for the place that she feels was well-received (I called my father for the skinny). Currently, this woman runs a bed-and-breakfast that doubles as her headquarters for her personal management service for death metal rock bands.

AWESOME. Of course, there is every possibility that she will not wind up getting the house because, due to the historical significance of the property, she has to go through a hearing wherein she is reviewed by two towns and the county and they will probably freak the fuck out about her business. My father said he'd take me if they hold it. And also, my company will probably not wind up insuring her in any event, because they're really a tiny family-run operation and this is kind of out of their depth. But! Wouldn't that be neat? If I started my hypothetical band, perhaps she'd hypothetically represent me! She is looking to expand to other genres.

Oh boy oh boy, GOOD OMENS.

So at 9:39AM yesterday I was turning 23 and ... buying some iced tea from the CVS. And then afterwards my day pretty much sucked. The details aren't terribly important. I've had better. But on the other hand, I've also had worse. And then I had wine. Hooray!

And now it's a new day, a new year, and people, it's going to be NONSTOP OPTIMISM around here for at least the next few days.

Thank you everyone who sent me fine birthday wishes. You kids are alright.