Happy St. Patrick's Day to one and all. Mom and Sara came up to celebrate my birthday early today, and in addition to birthday money, I got a set of four wine glasses, which replace the one I accidentally shattered last week (a tiny glass shard from that glass cut my right index finger earlier today when I was cleaning my room), so now I can actually entertain people if I want to.

Mom also brought up my North and South DVDs. After watching them all at once when I was home sick in November, I was pretty tired of them, but I'm finally ready to watch them again. Except for "Book Three"..."Book Three" makes the Holiday Special look like a cinematic masterwork.

Just like Kenny magically reappears as if he didn't die in a million grotesque ways, let's just pretend I haven't been away since the end of November. I don't know how long I'm going to feel like staying, but for now I'm back.

That's about all I can think of to say tonight. There's plenty of other subject matter, but I don't want to get into it at the moment. My days of writing horrendously long entries are over. I will say this, though. Go see 300. I doubt anyone will make a more awe-inspiring movie this year.

My second bit of paid time ends tomorrow, and I think I'm going to let it lapse, because I really want to rethink my web presence. Again. So, as I'm contemplating revamping, I leave you with an approximation of what I'm thinking of doing, a very rough approximation.

Tempest comes out tomorrow, and my new class doesn't meet in the morning, so I'm off to Cedar Rapids first thing to pick up the next "Legacy of the Force" book at Barnes and Noble. I'm virtually unspoiled for this one, so it should be fun, but I'll just say that as Jacen falls further to the Dark Side that I really wish they'd bring his brother Anakin back. However, I will say that I feel Jacen's fall resembles Luke's more than anyone else's, so perhaps there's hope.

The downer to Tempest's release: it's not written by the phenomenal Karen Traviss, which means Boba Fett and his story arc won't be making an appearance. Bummer, though because it's my favorite arc of the series, it means LucasBooks will be getting yet more of my money this May, when Traviss's hardcover, Sacrifice, comes out. Oh, well. I'll chalk it up as a graduation present to myself.

We talked a little over AIM yesterday, which is about the only way we've kept in touch in almost two years (except for a couple of phone calls along the line). I had to head out for lunch, but before I did I asked if we'd ever talk in person again. She was idle when I asked this, and when I got back to my computer I saw she had replied, but hadn't answered the question.

That's her way. I suppose that's not a surprise. Rather the surprise is that last weekend I was watching a movie with some friends and realized she's not the one, not any more in any case, and that that was okay. The road goes on, and for the first time that's fine with me.

Now if only I could hurry up and get the hell out of college. But that's a whole other story.

Too much on my mind, and I can't lie still long enough to go to sleep. Plus, I really want to get sucked into a book and can't, no matter how hard I try. Of course, that's mainly because Tempest, the latest book in the Legacy of the Force doesn't come out until the 28th, and that's what I really want to read right now.

Okay, this was so odd I had to show one and all:



Weirded out enough? Just check out the product description.

That's enough for one night, methinks.

Woke up this morning to find out that it's apparently the Great American Smoke-Out today, and the ped mall here on Cornell's hilltop is dotted with smoking factoid signs, illuminating the dangers of smoking. I really don't want to smoke a cigarette in the slightest right now, but I really think it would be morbidly funny to pose in front a sign or two while holding a lit smoke.

I don't know about anyone else, but the phrase "Great American Smoke-Out" conjures an image of a big mosh-pit of people lighting up in unison in some public place.

Went shopping for various things this morning, and as Sara said as I talked to her on the phone in the store, there's something calming about doing your shopping early on a Saturday, when everything you need to pick up is housed under a single roof. I grabbed another pair of jeans and a new refill for my Airwick plugin: "Inspiration," a blend of lotus flower and blue orchid. That should keep The Bunker smelling clean and inspiring for a couple of months.

I stumbled across a t-shirt that I couldn't leave behind, too. It says "Made In Ireland." Go figure.

Drove back with the Due South soundtrack playing, and had fun singing along to "American Woman" by the Guess Who--such a fun song, especially in the car, it would seem.

I love mornings.

Tonight I hung out with some friends and drank a cold beer without a headache or fogginess in my head for the very first time, and felt, for the first time since 2003, like I was truly alive and part of this world. It wasn't that there was anything spectacularly earthshattering about the hanging-out time; in fact, it was perfectly normal, and that's what made the realization that I'm at long last looking at the world through my own unclouded eyes again so blessedly wonderful.

The morning has come, shining out the Blacks that hung upon me for so long with a dawn as brilliant as any that rises over the sea to cast light upon the land. It's not that the night is no more, nor that the cold wind of winter will never cut me to the soul again, but today is tomorrow after so many years, and that's enough.