7 Feb – 16 Feb

I’m seriously resisting February. It was such a shitty, annoying month. These prompts are no different.

February 7th – Right to health:
Is access to medical care something that governments should provide, or is it better left to the private sector? Are there drawbacks to your choice?
I am honestly ignorant in this topic, like most, and as a result, I can’t really answer. People should have medical care when they need it. I think that sums it up. Are there drawbacks to people getting the healthcare they need? Mmm. Now I’m being purposefully mocking. Of course there are drawbacks, as there are to anything. I’m moving on because it’s 530am and I can’t focus on this.

February 8th – Karma chameleon:
Reincarnation: Do you believe in it?
No.

February 9th – Childhood revisited:
Sure, you turned out pretty good, but is there anything you wish had been different about your childhood? If you have kids, is there anything you wish were different for them?
I’m so distracted by the awkward grammar, I … Okay. Yes, I did turn out pretty well. I hate to sound like a spoiled brat, because I’m not – there are plenty of shitty things that I’d not enjoy going through again – however, every single thing that happened in my childhood has helped shape me into the person I am today. The good things, the bad things, the frustrating things, the lovely things. Everything came together like puzzle pieces and although the picture isn’t finished, all the straight edges and corners are in place. 
Oh I see now, the second part of the question wants to know if I have kids now. Well, I don’t, but I could say there are things I will try my hardest to do differently for them because of things I went through or didn’t go through. There are things I want my kids to experience that I wasn’t able to experience and there are things I’ll try to keep them from going through. One thing I always give my parents shit for is letting up on Conor’s phone curfew when they let up on mine, although he’s four years younger. Ya know, stuff like that 😉

February 10th – Teachable moment:
You have to learn a new skill. Do you prefer to read about it, watch someone else do it, hear someone describe it, or try it yourself?
Any time I’ve had to learn something new for work, and probably in general and I’ve just never noticed, I’ve always wanted to have a mix of learning techniques going on. For example, when I started my receptionist job a hundred years ago, I sat with my trainer as she told me about everything she has to do in the course of a shift, she’d point out the different buttons and what they did, in what order she had to push the buttons to page someone or transfer a call, etc; I’d write everything down so that I wouldn’t have to ask again; then I’d sit and watch her do everything for a few hours. After all of that, I’d feel comfortable jumping in. I did the same thing when I started as an escrow officer. At least as a receptionist, I’d seen a telephone before. But ask me where to put the HOA on the HUD and how much to charge for the DOT and I’ll be able to answer you correctly.
If it’s like, putting together a desk or table and chairs from Nebraska Furniture Mart, just give me the directions and walk away.

February 11th – Whoa!:
What’s the most surreal experience you’ve ever had?
Oh, yes. Finally, I have an answer on the tip of my tongue for one of these. Sigh. Most surreal experience – may or may not be the most surreal experience I’ve ever had, but it’s sure as hell dreamlike – was meeting Martin Freeman. Well, not so much ‘meeting,’ since it’s not like we shook hands and introduced ourselves, but meeting nonetheless. 
In London, on North Gower, watching Sherlock being filmed. Already surreal, seeing a couple of my heroes in person and watching them create bits of a television show that has taken over my life. They took a break in filming and were setting up a different camera angle, so they had to have some of us fans shift around. My friends went off to the left and I went off to the right. I went across the side street to a smaller fan area and I think at that moment, I saw Mr Cumberbatch going over to the other side of the street. ‘Fuck,’ I thought. There was no way I was getting back over there. I looked up then and saw Mr Freeman coming over to my side of the street. I was behind a multitude of people, probably about four or five back from the barrier so I thought, again, ‘fuck,’ I’ll never get through. (And I’m not the pushing through the crowd type unless I’m at a concert). As I was giving up, I noticed him going further down my side of the street. The people were thinning out toward that end. Fuck it. It’s now or never. I hope to God I didn’t trot, but I made it quickly to where he was and he was talking to some woman in front of me. She was telling him what a huge fan her daughter was and how hard it can be to be a parent sometimes, or something like that, and Martin listened so intently and held her hand the whole way through her story. As soon as it was wrapping up, I stepped forward with my phone ready on camera-mode and shakily asked, “Martin, could I have a photo please?” (In retrospect, I wish I wouldn’t have been such a clot and called him Mr Freeman instead, ffs). But anyway, he just looked up and smiled and said, “sure, sure!” I kind of scooted next to the barrier that separated us, and held my phone out so that I could line up the shot. I’m fucking shocked that it wasn’t a blurry mess because when I said ‘shakily,’ I meant like, beginning stages of Parkinson’s. So yeah. I said thank you, or at least I hope I did, I don’t know, I was stunned, and he went back to filming. 
Even now, I can’t believe it. I think I texted about ten people and told them what happened. At that point, I’d already met Benedict and I think I’d met Andrew Scott? Either way, Conor was like, “how the fuck does this keep happening?” Oh, um, yeah, those were two other surreal experiences. 

February 12th – All about you:
Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.
Aw yiss. So my blog’s title is ‘Consumed with that which it is nourish’d by’ and it’s from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73. Easy, really: I’m consumed with writing/journaling and I’m nourished by it. I always say that it keeps me sane and I’m not exaggerating in the least. Even earlier tonight, I felt like writing, so I picked up my journal and wrote about four pages of bosh. But it doesn’t matter that it was bosh, because I instantly had clear vision. Sometimes shit gets a bit cloudy, like all of a sudden life is shot through a diffuser. It’s not always a romantic look that the diffuser provides. Usually I’m fairly good at recognizing when that film slips in place and I can wipe it all away with the stroke of a pen. Hot damn.
Got off track. Maybe not really. But yes, that’s what journaling means to me, that’s what my blog title means to me. 

February 13th – Shoulda, woulda, coulda:
Tell us about something you know you should do… but don’t.
You mean besides working out?

February 14th – Cupid’s arrow:
It’s Valentine’s Day, so write an ode to someone or something you love. Bonus points for poetry!
Oh Christ.
I think if the answer doesn’t automatically come to me…

February 15th – Proud:
When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you?
Probably super recently. My parents are always proud of me for some reason or another lol That’s not to say that it has lost its meaning – I am very blessed to have parents that take pride in me and I’m equally as proud to call them my parents. 

February 16th – The clock:
Write about anything you’d like. Somewhere in your post, include the sentence, “I heard the car door slam, and immediately looked at the clock.”
This is just screaming for fanfiction. Or maybe I’m screaming for fanfiction. I scream, you scream.
-> She was in her hometown tonight. She’d gone downtown for a drink at her favorite bar. She went alone because she didn’t mind being alone, really. In fact, she usually preferred it.
Unfortunately, tonight there were a few men who kept coming over to talk to her. Theirs was attention she didn’t want. “Look, guys, I’m flattered, but no thanks,” she said, trying to get them away from her as politely as possible.
One of the men didn’t very much like being denied and as he leant in to put his arm around her, her stool tipped to the side. She found herself shoulder to shoulder with the man next to her. She hadn’t paid any attention to anyone all night because she just wanted a goddamn drink in peace.
The man startled and looked down at her. Instantly, they recognized each other. In his lovely English accent, he said, “hello, darling.”
“Thomas, hi,” she answered, strained at the effort of holding herself up against him.
“What, you know this fucking guy?” One of the drunk men asked.
“In fact, she does, gentlemen; so why don’t you bugger off and leave us, eh?” Thomas said to the man.
She cringed. These didn’t look like the type of men to simply ‘bugger off’ when asked. In fact, they weren’t at all.
“What the fuck did you say?”
And that’s when the fight broke out. One of the drunk men raised his fist and wound up to hit Tom. Tom dodged the first one easily enough, but hadn’t seen the second drunk man’s fist coming from the right. His fist collided with Tom’s left cheekbone and he was thrown against the bar. She picked up her beer bottle and performed the biggest cliché she could think of: she broke it against the bartop.
She pointed it at the drunk man who’d swung first and then waved it at the man who’d actually made contact with James.
“When a lady says no, she fucking means no; so unless you guys want to spend the night in the ICU, why don’t you fuck off already?” she shouted.
The man closest to her started to laugh, so she stopped forward and brought the jagged bottle closer to his face. “By the way, I know the nurse on-call, so I can make sure you get the best care.”
The man put his hands up in surrender, seeing how serious she was. “Alright, alright, fuck.” They stumbled away.
She put the bottle on the bar and put up her hand to the bartender who was about to tell her to hit the road. “I know, I know.”
She looked at Thomas, who had been staring at her with his wide eyes, made even wider by her actions. “Blimey! Remind me not to fuck with you.”
“Goddamn right.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the exit. At the end of the bar, she spied a glass of ice, so she checked for the bartender and then took the glass.
Outside the bar, she held the glass of ice to Thomas’s cheekbone. “Here,” she said, “hold this.”
He exclaimed as the glass touched his face. “Jesus!”
“We should probably get moving in case those assholes decide to leave, or more likely, get themselves thrown out,” she offered.
“Right.” He answered as they started down the sidewalk.
“My car’s in the parking garage just a block over,” she said, digging in her purse for her keys. He answered again, “right.”
Once they found her car, he set the glass of melted ice on the barrier. “No,” she said, “take that. I’ll wash it.” He gave her a look as she got in the driver’s seat. “What? It’s a free glass,” she said with a wink.
Fortunately, it was still early in the evening, so maneuvering out of the parking garage was a breeze. Once she’d gotten them out and away from downtown, she asked him what hotel he was staying at.
“Um, the Marriott,” he answered quietly.
Not responding to his answer, she asked another question. “What are you doing here, anyway?” She cringed at her approach and immediately felt bad. He had taken a punch for her after all.
“I, um, well, I was here for an assignment. A project.” So he hadn’t scaled down after all. She wondered if that meant- “So yeah, as I’m sure you’re thinking, I’m divorced.” He looked down at the lighter line of skin on his left ring finger.
She let out a breath. Yikes. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. I didn’t- She didn’t-“
“No,” he said, “after you left me that night, I stood there staring out at nothing for ages. I felt like as soon as I moved from that spot, I’d have to make a decision. And I didn’t want to. I wanted to go after you, to be honest.”
She sucked in a breath at that. She remembered thinking she wished he would have. She kept preparing herself to be grabbed by the arm and spun around by him. It never happened and she never looked back.
“But I knew I couldn’t do that. I could have made things so much worse for myself by doing that, um, no offense- I mean, I hope you understand what I-“
“Of course,” she cut him off. “No, the last thing you should have done was come after me,” she admitted. Sealing her lips, she focused on the drive.
“I finally decided to just call her right there, so I didn’t have to move.” He made a sad sounding chuckle. “I tried to tell her that I could cut back on what I was doing and still be there for her and the boys, but she was so tired of it all by then… She had already made up her mind.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes, flinching a bit, forgetting about his sore cheek.
She didn’t know what to say. It was just as well, as she pulled up to the entrance of the hotel.
“Well,” she started. As she was taking a breath to start again, he interrupted her.
“Stay with me.” It wasn’t a question. Not really a command.
Without a word, she put her car back in drive and pulled away toward the hotel’s parking lot.
She knew it would be only once. Just as it would have been before. This would never work as anything. But it would kill her to leave in the morning all the same.
She found a spot relatively close to the front door and grabbed her purse out of the back seat.
He met her behind her car and took her hand. She appreciated the gesture and smiled at him. She hoped he wouldn’t be able to read in her face what was really going on in her mind.
They made their way through the lobby to the bank of elevators. She was hoping his room was on a high floor so that she could look out over her city. It might help ground her.
He was. He motioned for her to exit the elevator first and then followed, grabbing her hand again in pursuit of his room. She was sick to her stomach when they reached his door. She almost hoped his key wouldn’t work so she could run.
It worked. She couldn’t deny that she wanted this, and he was divorced now, but it still felt entirely stupid. She’d do it anyway.
His room was fairly large. A nice room. A king-sized bed. The bed where, she couldn’t help but anticipate, a huge mistake was about to be made.
“I think I’ll, um,” she began, “I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, she stepped in and locked the door behind her.
Fuck. She thought. What the fuck am I doing? I always think I know what I’m doing and then I end up in these goddamn situations. She let out a breath. Her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked good, but she looked how she felt: conflicted. She listened for clues in the room. She didn’t hear anything. Surprised she didn’t hear a belt buckle or a boot dropping to the floor.
I mean, I don’t have to do this, she thought. It’s not like I’m obligated, and I’m sure he’s not the kind to force me into something. She squeezed her eyes shut and took another deep breath.
I’ll just tell him I can’t. I’m so glad I drove us here and not to my apartment.
She took one last deep breath and gripped the door handle. I can do this. I can tell him I can’t do this.
She opened the door slowly and listened again. She couldn’t hear anything. She practically tiptoed out of the restroom and around the corner. Then she saw him.
Passed out on top of the comforter, Thomas was fully clothed.
She had to stifle a laugh now. All of that for nothing. He must have been a bit more intoxicated than she noticed. Either that or he hid it well.
She went over to him and sat down beside him. She brushed his bangs off of his forehead. He stirred a little.
“Hey,” she whispered. He moaned a sleepy response.
She made to take off his boots. He tried to help by pushing his toes against the other foot’s heel, but his toes kept slipping off of the leathery boot.
“Stop it,” she giggled, “just let me fuckin’ do it.” He moaned another sleepy response.
Once she’d gotten his boots off, she put them at the end of the bed and decided against wrestling the comforter from underneath him. Luckily, there was a spare blanket in the closet. She covered him up to his chin and tucked the end of the blanket under his feet.
She stood and looked at him for a minute or two, secretly thankful for the decision she didn’t have to make. Again, he’d taken a blow for her. She bent over and brushed her lips against his forehead. He was completely out now.
Noticing the standard notepad and pen on the nightstand, she picked both up and went to the little desk by the television.
What do I even say? “Thomas,” she started. She froze for a moment before putting the pen down and quietly ripping the sheet from the pad. She tore it up and put it in the bin. She sighed.
She turned around to look at him. He had grabbed the blanket and pulled it tightly against him. He looked like such a child.
She stared at the notepad. She should thank him for defending her against that asshole at the bar. She should tell him again how sorry she is for his marriage falling apart. She should apologize for not being there in the morning.
“Talk soon,” she wrote.
She signed her name and put the pen down. She got up and went to the window overlooking downtown. She heard a car door slam and immediately looked at the clock. Jesus, she’d been standing there for twenty minutes. It was time to go.
“Goodnight,” she whispered. 

21 Jan to 31 Jan

Now that I’ve got the exciting stuff out of the way, I can continue on these daily prompts. I have a feeling I won’t be caught up til summer, but I’m gonna give it a go.

January 21st – Sweet sixteen:
When you were 16, what did you think your life would look like? Does it look like that? Is it a good thing?
I honestly don’t remember what I thought my life would look like when I was sixteen. I could go back and read through my journals to see what I actually thought, but I don’t remember really thinking too far into the future at that age. I’m sure I didn’t picture myself traveling so much or being jobless. Not that I can really complain.

January 22nd – I got skills:
If you could choose to be a master of any skill in the world, which skill would you pick?
Oh my God. This is like asking favorites. There’s a shitload of shit I’d love to be a master of. A lot of the skills I wish I had mastered would be used as party tricks – have an amazing singing voice for karaoke, be able to play anything on piano to show off whenever there’s a piano around, be super flexible for dance or gymnastics for no reason. Any skill in the world… I’m really not sure. I’ve kind of always wanted to be an actor. Just because I love to tell stories and watch peoples’ reactions. Maybe a good one would be being able to make decisions when prompted.

January 23rd – Shipwrecked:
Read the story of Richard Parker and Tom Dudley. Is what Dudley did defensible? What would you have done?
Well, for the sake of summary. The story is that these four guys were forced to abandon ship mid-ocean and take off in this rickety lifeboat. After however many days with no food, they kind of discussed the fact that they’d probably have to kill one of the four in the boat so that they could survive. Parker, the 17 year old, apparently got sick and was likely going to die, as pointed out by another Dudley. The next day, Dudley and Stephens nodded to each other without consulting with Brooks, the other guy, and while Stephens held Parker down, Dudley killed him. They ate the kid and were later rescued. 
Is what Dudley did defensible? It’s obviously impossible to say what any of us would do in that situation unless we’ve been in the situation. The human instinct and drive to survive will likely overpower moral in a situation like that. The kid was already sick and likely about to die – once he died, his blood would not be healthy to eat (or so they believed). He was heading toward his natural death, and they sped up the process. They didn’t know when they would be rescued, if at all. There’s always that one person in the situation who is ‘strong’ enough to take the lead and make horrible decisions for the benefit of the others. Dudley did that. While he couldn’t save everyone, he did save three out of four. Still, it’s hard to justify such a thing – it was murder after all. There had to be another option.
What would I have done? I have absolutely no idea. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have killed anyone to save the rest of us, but like I said, how do any of us know for sure? 

January 24th – Ready, set, go:
Set a timer for ten minutes. Open a new post. Start the timer, and start writing. When the timer goes off, publish.
Well, since I’m combining prompts, I’ll just move on to the next prompt when the timer goes off. Readyyyyyy, go.
-> What to talk about. I guess the next exciting thing coming up is that I’m going to Nashville to see my friend Steph. We met at the University of Evansville our freshman year of college. Neither of us knew anyone and we were actually slotted to room with other people. My roommate called me the day we moved in and said she wouldn’t be there, and Steph was roomed with this super blonde gal. And when I say super blonde, I mean like, white blonde, if I remember correctly. Then again, who knows. Anyway, I was very happy being alone in my room for the most part, but then the university contacted me and said that unless I find a roommate, I’d have to pay double for the room. Which is total bullshit. Steph didn’t like her roommate, though, and she was just down the hall a couple doors, so she moved in with me just before semester. We had a hell of a time. We both hated the school and most of the people there. We spent a lot of time at the gym, or when she got her car, we spent a lot of time just anywhere but campus. She came up a few years ago for a Husker game, but we haven’t seen each other since.
Nashville is hosting a color run at the end of the month, so she invited me down for that. Then the whole arrest happened, and the prelim hearing is now slated for, I think, the day before the color run. Dad told me to just go ahead and go, but I wouldn’t do that. I know he’s just trying not to disrupt my life. I’m still going to go to Nashville, but I’ll just go after the hearing. I should be able to leave the same day, depending on what time it is, but I think I’ll miss the color run. I’m disappointed about that because I’ve never done one. I’m not in any shape for one, thanks to being lazy and then being made even more lazy by the accident (my God, my life is super exciting). Oh well, I guess. Perhaps there’s a reason I’m meant to go down to Nashville a few days later.
Once I come back from Nashville, I’ll have to do some laundry and then repack for a week-two weeks in Australia. My friends Jen and Janine, who I met in London last summer, live there and have invited me. I’ve always wanted to go to Australia. It just so happens, also, that there’s a Comicon there. So I’ll get to see Sydney, some heroes, some nerds, and some friends. At first, I was apprehensive about going. I’m still, regrettably and admittedly, iffy about international travel after the whole London thing. I wasted so much time and money and was so absolutely heartbroken and I don’t want to go through that again. I know the whys and hows of the denial into the UK, but now getting turned away at any border is a fear of mine. I’m sure I’d be fine going to Australia because it’d be the first time I was there, I’d have tickets to the con, I’d be staying with friends, and I’d obviously have my return ticket already and all of that. But this time, should I bring a copy of my bank statement? My lease? My car title? I mean, should I say I work for my dad so that it looks like I have a job to go back to? Should I say I’m in the process of buying a house? What should I do? Last time, I thought I was prepared and I told the truth and look where that got me. I hate that it changed me. I was so carefree before. 

January 25th – Dearly departed:
Write your own eulogy.
Funnily enough, I already have. Molded 100% off of Dean’s eulogy for Jonathan in Serendipity.
“Christina Friis, prominent media psychologist for the BBC, died last night from complications of losing her music. She was 26 years old. Soft-spoken, yet outspoken, Friis never looked the part of a hopeless romantic. But, in the final days of her life, she revealed an unknown side of her psyche. This hidden persona surfaced during the five-alarm pursuit of her extensive music catalogue, music she’d only collected her entire life. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure. Yet, even in certain defeat, the optimistic Friis secretly clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. But rather, is a film reel of events the culminate in an exquisite, awesome plan. Asked about the loss of their finest colleague and friend, the BBC stable of actors described Friis as a changed woman in the last days of her life. ‘Things were clearer for her,’ they noted. Ultimately, Christina concluded that if we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in lyricism and rhythm.”

January 26th – Musical:
What role does music play in your life?
I swear I didn’t read on before I did the last one, but it’s fitting, isn’t it? Music clearly plays a most important role in my life, since it could kill me if I were to lose it. It’s simple, really: I was brought up on music. It enhances my happiness and eases my sadness, it puts into words what I cannot and takes away my words when they’re not needed. I feel it everywhere – there are bits of music that make my chest flutter and ripple outward to my arms and legs. In short, nothing makes me feel the way music does.

January 27th – Sliced bread:
Most of us have heard the saying, ‘that’s the best thing since sliced bread!’ What do you think is actually the best thing since sliced bread?
I’d say social media. I know it’s not technically a ‘thing’, but it lets us talk to people we’d never normally get to talk to, it lets us express feelings we might never normally get to express, it lets us do all sorts of shit. Sure, there are drawbacks, but there are drawbacks to sliced bread, too. I mean, it probably expires more quickly than non-sliced bread.. or.. it can get squished easily.

January 28th – Ode to a playground:
A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write a memorial.
Oh, God, I could so easily do the house in which I grew up, but I really don’t feel like crying tonight. Um, I’ll just stick with playground since that’s the title. 
“The Ponca Elementary School playground. When I think back to elementary school, I think of recess. I think of running across the cement to the twisty, yellow slide. All of us. Climbing up the ladder to the top and designating one person to be the first one. Someone strong. That person would be the foundation for the rest of us. Once we were all piled up on the slide, the foundation would start to slip, and we’d all come crashing down to the gravel. Over and over again. Or a few of us girls would climb on top of the monkey bars to chat. Or we’d take turns running across the unstable, wooden bridge and jump off the other end. Or we’d go back to the cement that we ignored in the beginning and we’d kick soccer balls back and forth to each other. Whoever got a ball past the end of the cement would score a point. Whoever kicked a ball too forcefully and made it over the fence would have to run across the street and stop it from rolling away into oblivion. We never kept score. We never fought. We played. Always played. Now it’s gone. All of it is gone. It lies in ruin. It became unsafe. It became about worry, it became about fear. It wasn’t what it used to be. Our memories may have faded, much like the yellow of the slide, but they’ll always be in the recess of our minds.”

January 29th – Through the window:
Go to the nearest window. Look out for a full minute. Write about what you saw.
I’m going to treat this like my film class and just take quick notes while I stare into the darkness: Immediately in front of me are the bars on my balcony. The support beam blocks a bit of my view, but then again, it’s pitch black out. I can see light reflecting in the ice of the little pond just down the hill. Beyond that, I can see the source of the light – streetlamps outside the adjacent apartment building. I can see the lights on in the stairwells, but everyone seems to be asleep or at least has their bedroom lights off. One of the streetlamps just went out. There are cars in the parking lot – two white ones stick out among the dark ones. There are some lights behind the apartment building – they look like streetlamps, also. Again, it’s pitch black, so there’s really not a whole lot to be seen. I’m going to call that a minute.

January 30th – Burning down the house:
Your home is on fire. Grab five items (assume all people and animals are safe). What did you grab?
Can we also assume that I’ve got my phone on me already? Because I leave the house with it at all times anyway. Okay, yeah, let’s do that. I’d grab my external harddrive since that has all of my music and photos on there from both computers. I’d – oh my God. This is difficult as fuck. Um… This is the problem with worldly possessions. I mean, obviously, I wouldn’t grab my DVDs or whatever. I’d grab my laptop, I guess. That’s two things, right? I think most of my important shit is in a tub in my garage, which is nowhere near my ‘house’, so that shit should be fine. Maybe I should take my file drawer since that will have my tax returns and other documents. That’s three. Luckily, it’s fairly warm outside, so I wouldn’t need a coat. Can we also assume car keys are a given? Really, purse is a given. Still need two things. I guess, in a way, it’s good that it’s difficult to decide because out of all the crap I actual have, 99% could be replaced. OH, here’s four: my box of journals. Def can’t replace those. Also, it goes without saying that in the event of a fire, the adrenaline would make me strong enough to carry these things in one go. Still need number five. My degrees? Maybe. Oh, darn, I have two of them. Actually, fuck both of them: I’ll make number five my grandpa’s diploma

January 31st – Burnt:
Remember yesterday, when your home was on fire and you got to save five items? That means you left a lot of stuff behind. What are the things you wish you could have taken, but had to leave behind?
Well, honestly, the obvious answer is just about everything. It would save me money (although I do have insurance) and it would save me time trying to replace all of it. I have such a hodgepodge of different artifacts and I’d never remember everything. Makes me anxious to think about it. 

 

Hey! I’m done with January! I think when I started, I was 52 days behind. Now I’m 39 days behind. Not bad. February 1st already looks annoying. 

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