This and That

At night, I like holding a warm (not steaming) mug of tea while I sit Indian-style on my computer chair.  I like it when the music is low and gentle (almost like a lullaby), and everyone's asleep.  The night belongs to me.  I'm making a list (an actual list, mental notes are useless).   It's a random rundown of things I'd like to get for Christmas and things I need to buy for my plates.  It's sort of all jumbled up and, really, there's no use classifying them.

(a preview)

• a flashlight (plate), 
• cheap glasses (One each for "Pencils", "Pens", "Colored Pencils" and "Etc.") (Christmas), 
• black cartolina (plate), 
• a mug cover (Christmas),
• that nice stool from Dimensione (Christmas and plate)
• a camera (Life)

I'm also filling out my December calendar with deadlines and dates. Christmas is near, but Christmas break seems so unachievable.  There is this little Christmas tree that I put up on my desk every year.  I love the season, really (more the anticipation than the actual thing usually).  My mind, contrary to all the lists I've been making (organization?), is fuzzy with thoughts of this and that.  At one point I'm thinking about how socially awkward I am (Then I replay humiliating scenes with this exemplified).  At another, I'm thinking I need money.  Sometimes I also think of parallel realities.  Like me having (ideally) my own unit (like a condo or an apartment) and living the hell out of it.   And then I'm thinking about my blog and how desolate it has come to be (There are words, always, but never the time).  I'm also thinking about all that I am not and how miserable that makes me.  You can never shake off the words said to you in anger.  And then it just all goes downhill from there and I don't know where to pick myself up.

But sometimes though, and I haven't quite figured out if it's a good or a bad thing, it's just blank.  No thoughts.  Silence. But not peace, not exactly.