Two weeks never felt so short.

"If suffer we must, let's suffer on the heights."
-- Victor Hugo (Les Malheureux)

I've fulfilled a week of rest, and I know that the next week will be a week of work. I've done what I could to insert as much wholesome goodness (you know, the kind that propels you forward and helps you count your blessings, as opposed to the kind that promotes the smashing of your coherence and sobriety) into my routine. I've read a variety of book-types (from Marvel comic books to Jane Austen and now I'm attempting my mother's Oprah book: Love In The Time of Cholera). I've made my music lists and I've completed the task of dangerously shopping on Boxing Day. And I survived.

Now, I'm going through an Ocean's phase. I'm currently re-watching Ocean's 11 and I'll soon be onto Ocean's 12. Just a few days ago, including yesterday, I was on a movie rampage (this includes Superbad, Rush Hour 3, Pride and Prejudice, Bride and Prejudice, Enchanted and P.S. I Love You). In the span of a week, I managed to finish almost ten movies. Including Howl's Moving Castle (I'm a person of many interests, and I plan to stay that way).

And though two weeks is normally a long time... I feel like I could use more. I've work to do. I've life to catch up on and a week's worth of rest to inject into my ruddy circles. I'm sure everyone else does too... The countdown, this deadline, this doomsday to return to a term filled with work -- it looms over my head and haunts me in my dreams.


Ah. I've never felt so old. Time flies by too quickly.