Teen Beat.

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I’ve already been at work for an hour. Trying to develop new, earlier-in-the-morning habits, mostly because I like going to bed earlier when the weather is cooler. The cat is delighted.

Of course, I used to always write in the morning, during coffee-drinking. Instead, these days, I wake up and watch George Alagiah and drink coffee and eat breakfast in the living room.

Yes, folks, I’m back to being a television addict. Okay, maybe not ADDICT, but I used to go days without watching television. Now? I wake up and turn on the set immediately. I get home from work and check to see if there are new eps of stuff I missed on On Demand. I haven’t been reading anything that isn’t online. It’s pretty gross. But I guess my brain is rejecting actual education at the moment. I don’t know what that’s about. Hibernation-related brain shutdown?

I have been trying to catch up on podcast archives, mostly Professor Blastoff, but also Dave Gorman. I even got a word into the Listeners’ Lexicon on the latter.

In the case of PB, I wrote a fan letter (email) this week to thank them, because I actually had a cathartic cry while listening to an episode. It’s not like sending my underwear to Justin Bieber or anything, but it did feel a little silly; these people are STRANGERS, but I feel emotionally invested in their lives in a borderline embarrassing way. Like, to a point (okay, several) where I was racking my brain to come up with a topic I was an expert in so I could propose it for a show so that I could meet them (or at least talk to them) on the phone. I’M A GROWN WOMAN. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Oh, right, I’m human. And it could be worse/more humiliating. I wonder how that weird girl from my junior high school who vowed to wear black every day* for the rest of her life if Donny Wahlberg was sent to jail ended up.

* A black NKOTB t-shirt, obviously.

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