Victory is mine?
I was thinking at work today that I need to post an entry called "Victory!" but now I don't remember what the victory involved. Guess it wasn't that victorious. Or maybe it was so victorious it blew my mind.
Something cool did happen today. We have this scanners at work, and I was rolling a big library cart with a scanner on the second shelf. It fell off but then it BOUNCED BACK onto the bottom shelf. AWESOME.
Hmm. This might have been what the "victory" was. I went to the eye-doctor yesterday and got new contacts. They didn't order any for me yet because my cornea was inflamed and they wanted it to heal so they could double-check the power in the contact in that eye. So I only have one pair of contacts and this morning when I was putting in the contact in my right eye, I dropped it on the bathroom floor. Bad.
It took me about ten minutes but I finally found it and salvaged it from the dirty bathroom floor. And yes, I washed it before I put it back in my eye.
I'm finishing my 25th book opf. I think after this I'm going to read Dick van Dyke's autobiography. It looks pretty good. I sort of want to read Rob Lowe's book too. He was one of the first people I remember having a crush on, back when he did The Stand miniseries.
My sister and I went to see the new X-Men movie the other day. It was great fun. We whisper random comments to each other that no one else would appreciate. Like, "Started-when-you-stopped-me-from-killing-my-arch-nemesis, you were my, my boooooo!"
This is an account from Michael Caine about the death of his father. I found it very moving.
He was suffering terribly from liver cancer. I was visiting him and I said to his chief surgeon, "Can you give him something to end it for Christ's sake?"
The doctor replied, "Good god, no, I can't do that!" And then he went quiet and finally said, "Come back at midnight."
I always remember that because the hospital was right next to Big Ben, and Big Ben was striking midnight. I looked at my father, and he died exactly at midnight. The doctor was in the room, and I looked at him, and he gave this slight smile, and I knew that he'd done it. He'd done it.
As I was leaving, the nurse gave me everything that my father had in his pockets. It was something like, in old English money, one and nine pence ha'p'nny, which is about 35 cents. That was all he had.
That night changed me very much. I was determined to make something of myself. I had a very hard time becoming a successful actor. I spent ten years of brutal, brutal slog in the theater, trying to get bigger parts. It was only the memory of that night that kept me going through that. Everyone needs a rod up their back to succeed, and my father's death was that for me.
Something cool did happen today. We have this scanners at work, and I was rolling a big library cart with a scanner on the second shelf. It fell off but then it BOUNCED BACK onto the bottom shelf. AWESOME.
Hmm. This might have been what the "victory" was. I went to the eye-doctor yesterday and got new contacts. They didn't order any for me yet because my cornea was inflamed and they wanted it to heal so they could double-check the power in the contact in that eye. So I only have one pair of contacts and this morning when I was putting in the contact in my right eye, I dropped it on the bathroom floor. Bad.
It took me about ten minutes but I finally found it and salvaged it from the dirty bathroom floor. And yes, I washed it before I put it back in my eye.
I'm finishing my 25th book opf. I think after this I'm going to read Dick van Dyke's autobiography. It looks pretty good. I sort of want to read Rob Lowe's book too. He was one of the first people I remember having a crush on, back when he did The Stand miniseries.
My sister and I went to see the new X-Men movie the other day. It was great fun. We whisper random comments to each other that no one else would appreciate. Like, "Started-when-you-stopped-me-from-killing-my-arch-nemesis, you were my, my boooooo!"
This is an account from Michael Caine about the death of his father. I found it very moving.
He was suffering terribly from liver cancer. I was visiting him and I said to his chief surgeon, "Can you give him something to end it for Christ's sake?"
The doctor replied, "Good god, no, I can't do that!" And then he went quiet and finally said, "Come back at midnight."
I always remember that because the hospital was right next to Big Ben, and Big Ben was striking midnight. I looked at my father, and he died exactly at midnight. The doctor was in the room, and I looked at him, and he gave this slight smile, and I knew that he'd done it. He'd done it.
As I was leaving, the nurse gave me everything that my father had in his pockets. It was something like, in old English money, one and nine pence ha'p'nny, which is about 35 cents. That was all he had.
That night changed me very much. I was determined to make something of myself. I had a very hard time becoming a successful actor. I spent ten years of brutal, brutal slog in the theater, trying to get bigger parts. It was only the memory of that night that kept me going through that. Everyone needs a rod up their back to succeed, and my father's death was that for me.