The past few day’s I’ve had off have been spent by being incredibly lazy. This past week, I’ve finished off Ian M Bank’s Look to Windward and chomped my way through Why I Write by George Orwell, Selling Out by Justina Robson and Loamhedge by Brian Jacques. Four books in a week might not seem like a lot to some [*cough*Andy*cough*], but I’m quite proud of myself.

[Of course, we'll ignore the laundry and washing up not done]

I’ve also been spending time playing The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion on the PS3. Andy bought it for me some time before Christmas. I played it once I think, when we got it home, and I hated the controls. Picked it up again, and now I’m more use to the way the PS3 handles, I’m getting better at it. It’s fun I have become the infamous food thief, running around the country side eating everything I can lay my grubby little paws on… [it's only food because you can't steal the lights in this ]

What else?… Oh yeah we got a Roomba-a-like that we’ve called Marvin. Ah, it’s so funny and cute. We also finally got a printer, so I can print my story out and let people read of it’s awfulness

That’s out about it, work is fine, there hasn’t been any more talk of me becoming supervisor, and we have a new work colleague after Jack left.

I haven’t really been as exercise active as I should, but still, I feel slimmer, [even after everything I had to eat last week... pizza and ice cream and cookies, oh my].

And that I think concludes my little update

☮&♥

They say that time heals all wounds, but they lie. It doesn’t. It just takes the edge off so that that open, raw bleeding gash moulds over and instead becomes a low dull ache, or at best a numb spot where nothing that touches subsequently can felt. In those of us that strive to stand strong for others, to take their load so they don’t have to, time means that when the tears finally come, they’ll be in shallow, sporadic bursts that don’t really mean anything or do anything than absolve the twinge of pain caused by some unknown trigger. It means that your mourning is never really over and all those deaths just stack up, one atop another in your heart, and each have their own triggers and their own little twinges and their own spurts of grief. And it’ll never really be over, and your mourning will never be done, because those empaths never stop trying to stand tall and won’t allow themselves the luxury of falling in a tearful, grief-ridden heap as their fellows do, because they are the ones who are there to be the comforters.

And who then, will be there for the comforters?

☮&♥

1. What song would you sing to your newborn child?
Probably nursery rhymes or other lullabies I know, such as ‘All the Pretty Little Horses’ [except those aren't exactly the lyrics I know]

2. How do you think animals think? (i.e. in animal language, human language, etc.)
In sounds and smells and body language.

3. As a child, did you have a dream to make a difference in the world? Can you describe your dream?I guess so, but it wasn’t in a specific form, more that I wanted to help people I think in any way that intere4sted me.

4. Do you believe in God/a Higher Being?
yes, an undefined, amorphous extra or super being.

5. Do you believe in aliens?
It’s hard not to think, that in a universe as big as ours, that there isn’t any other intelligent life or life capable of evolving to ‘intelligence’ out there someplace. Do I think aliens come and prod southern American hicks? not really.

☮&♥