stalking:
the beat
bookslut blog
cashmilliondollars
dude. man. phat.
defamer
jane espenson
josh friedman
neil gaiman
tim goodman
molly ivins
listen, lady...
lj friends
mastodon city
pc petri dish
theo's gift
warm your thoughts
wil wheaton
xoverboard

doing:
SMRT-TV
los angeles
knitting
web design

writing:
bookslut
ostrich ink
HEARTtaker
screenplays

reading:
John Bowe (ed):
Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone:
Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell:
Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn:
People's History of the U.S.

listening:
kcrw
woxy

watching:
The Daily Show
Prison Break
The Office (US)
Lost
Kitchen Confidential
Veronica Mars

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Sunday, December 31, 2006

There is too much. Let me sum up.

So 2006 was good. I persist in my opinion that every year, my life gets increasingly better -- maybe not quantifiably, but I go new places, meet new people, try new things. New replaces old, goals crumble with achievement or neglect, but no matter what they're replaced by new dreams and ideas. It was yet another year, 365 different chances to make an idiot of myself and, along the way, stumble backwards into some semblance of happiness. I took more chances this year than the last, and the same the year before. Maybe that's the way in which life improves.

New Year's is my favorite holiday. It's shiny and sweet and full of a whole year's promise of good and bad. It's also the only holiday that is traditionally celebrated with slutty clothes and booze. My tube top this year is red. May it be a sign of things to come.

Be safe, y'alls, and have a delightful night. A delightful new year. We all fall down.

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