Alright, so it's winter break. Whoop-dee-doo. I still have to do a boatload of schoolwork and just plain old work-work. Oh well. At least I get to stay home in my jim-jams all day. I've been watching a lot of BBC shows lately, so pajamas are now jim-jams. According to motto #1, (The secret to creativity is hiding your sources,) I shouldn't have told all y'alls where I got the word jim-jams and just used it like I made it up myself. Unfortunately, then I'd lose my link to what I actually wanted to talk about.
Anyway, between items on my 6.2 mile long to-do list, I've been watching this very British TV show called Doctor Who. (I might as well admit, I think the new Doctor is pretty darn handsome. You can all thank my mom for pointing out that all the guys I think are handsome have kind of big noses.) Wow, I'm getting distracted really easily tonight. Alright, back on topic. There was an episode or two with these Cybermen, they're called, and they gave me the creeps. They are robots with people's brains inside, except with the emotions removed. As I was lying awake last night, unable to sleep because of the creepy monsters I stupidly put in my head right before bed, it occurred to me to wonder why the Cybermen were so much creepier than other villain-type robots and aliens in the show. The answer I came up with is that it could be any of us that got our brains cut out and stuck in a metal body. (stick with me, there was a point I set out to make...) Then I wondered, "Why am I afraid of losing this body? It's not like I get to keep it forever. It's not that I even like living in it all the time." It did kind of help to think of it in those terms. I'm so glad to know that there's a better body than this one waiting when I wear this one out. I have nothing to fear from death, or robots, or demons, or aliens, or autopsies on CSI, or computer generated blood that squirts out when you fall down in that skateboarding game we have on the xbox, or anything else Satan can hurl out at me. For some reason, though, I still get freaked out. Wow. I never knew there were so many things I was afraid of. That's odd. I thought I was fearless. Hmm. Not the first time I've been wrong.
Well, as it turns out, I didn't make much of a point after all. It's just one of those thoughts that kind of rambles. The phrase "Train of thought" doesn't do the process justice. Like a plant, it seems simple enough until you try to extract it and find innumerable roots shooting off in all directions. Ah well. I should go to bed. I should have gone to bed two to three hours ago.
I am now 16.98905 years old. Freaky.
