In no age before or since could one really say "She came and kissed me for the first time and I never knew such delight" and "Teacher and I played romp in bed" without attracting a lot of irrelevant attention. Whatever the case, those two, Anne and Helen, certainly did love one another and while it is well to dream of two Victorian girls in long stockings and chemises thrashing one another with pillows, I am in the cold laboratory again. It has been a very nice evening for me anyway. Tammy brough enchiladas for the day shift revelries and was kind enough to leave them for our enjoyment. They made my dinner and shall make my breakfast also. I have packaged a neat sum of them since there is nothing in the house to eat. Think of how much better I will write tomorrow with a fortifying meal in me!
It is cold enough outside that were I in a heated room I would feel very cozy, and crawling into our bed tonight seems a most desirable thing. When I do, the sky will already be lightening and the world will be stirring to life. I found this a little disturbing at first, but now it is a great comfort to me to know that someone else will be tending the world while I drift off for a while, and the bright rooms will be waiting for me when I wake, the computer where I sit and write, the birds and trees and all the tea I like.
It has always seemed a little ironic to me how I hate night, and darkness, and my present circumstances have made it necessary for me to make something of it for myself. I console myself that all the while light touches the earth I am in my bed, or writing in the dining room, absorbing its warmth, and all the hours I spend in a windowless laboratory all is dark and still outside anyway.
There is Christmas music on the radio. At this rate, I will grow tired of it before the time. It is like eating cake when I don't want it. I have been wanting to make more mix CD's so that I won't switch them out on the road so much, and I won't be forced to listen to the radio, which is not what I would have picked.
I also came to a conclusion about movies and television and I don't know if I am wrong for it. If it hurts me, makes me unhappy or despondent or ashamed, should I not excise it from my life? It seems like so much of what I have seen lately has hurt me that I have no further desire for movies and I gave up on television long ago. Seeing other humans be thus makes me unfairly hateful toward my species, and unbearably sensitive to distasteful subjects. If I can control my environment, should I not remove what I hate? I see the worst of my kind in television, any visual, really. It's as though other humans have stopped making our movies and television shows and this mechanical, calculating beast has taken over, programming the work according to statistical effect so that I can discern no attentive soul in it. Oh, well, I have free will, don't I?
Sent from Amanda's Treo @-'-,--