changelog @ tengrrl.com:

In the week that I have been hibernating, Rubbish A. Toddles, Nosebleed U. Ruckuses, and Litigious D. Glee sent me mail. I'm not sure if they are leprachauns or an odd sect of elves.
I save too many things for the “right” moment. My pile of unwatched films includes not only The Return of the King but also The Two Towers. That means that I've owned TT for over a year and still haven't found the time to watch it.
My household inventory clearly indicates that too many of my things are not near where they belong. After all, no one can explain a reason for cereal to be stored in the living room.
I finished reading Life in the Fat Lane and am about two-thirds of the way through The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things. I still can’t quite like Life in the Fat Lane. How can it go to the trouble of fairly accurate info on prednisone and doxepin (I've taken both), and then create a completely fictional malady? It all feels a little too fake for me. The point wasn't to deal with what a real girl might go through, but to create some kind of Twilight Zone reality that she crosses into. Maybe I'm just too unrealistic about that can and can’t be done in a book. I liked TTYL; but I think I had the same problem with it. It’s not quite real I know what it looks like when teens IM and e-mail each other. Somehow things just were’t quite authentic. I mean what person uses u and r and ppl but spells out with. And where did we find kids who only have one msg window open at a time? Come on. I just can’t square the things in these books that aren’t quite genuine, that tie up in a package that’s just a little too perfect to be real. Maybe I should go back to fantasy.
Sometimes the sirens are so loud because the fire truck is coming down your street. I am not hearing things. They really are outside.
Too frequently I have dumped full super-sized diet cokes on the floor of my car through perfectly normal driving. I am very tired of this failure to control my beverages and I mourn the loss of precious brown diet beverage.
A week can pass and I can get nothing done. No lesson plans posted. No entries. No nothing. Oh, I guess I did write an Inbox section on cartoons and graphic novels yesterday. Maybe that counts as something.
I don’t seem able to write anything. I have a million starts in this house, piles of notes, jotted ideas. But I don’t ever write. More than anything I want to write a book, but I never do. I never do anything.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005