verbicide | do not trust to hope, it has forsaken these lands

Harper's Weekly was particularly depressing this week. Judy and John were just on that particular metro line a few months ago in Spain. Judy and I were talking about this last night; we're so terrified something is going to happen here again. I try not to think about it, but my life has been so charmed thus far, I don't want to lose someone I love. I don't want any of us to.

Watching LotR:TT:EE. Yeah. Again. So there will be some lustful rambling later about Karl Urban's straight, sexy, white, glorious teeth. And Sean Bean! Is it weird that out of all the creatures of Middle Earth, the one I most relate to is Gollum? Watching him freakily battle his inner demons was all too familiar. Though of course I share Eowyn's frustration of being a woman in a man's world. Not that I'm half so tough as she is.

Freaked out a bit earlier when realized my account had dipped particularly low and checking was overdrawn. Shit. Ran to the bank to deposit some money. Being out late at night gives me such mixed emotions. On the one hand, I like it. It's dark. It's peaceful. No traffic. On the other hand, it makes me feel so vulnerable. This isn't a dangerous neighborhood or anything, but I know my limitations. I probably couldn't outrun a determined Girl Scout and my self-defense abilities are pitiful. Every time I'm walking out alone, it reminds me that I should get off my ass and take a basic self-defense course. But then I come home, to the comfort and imagined safety of my flat and all common sense is forgotten.

Hobbes is so pissed off at me. Earlier, I locked him out of the bedroom so I could eat some chicken in peace. When I finally opened the door, he gave me the most wounded, betrayed look ever. He still isn't speaking to me.