Here we are again.

I know my father's footsteps. When he walks he drags his feet, slightly. Most likely due to his hurt knee. And he walks down the stairs like a normal person, and he leans on the rail with his hand. The children don't walk down the stairs like normal people. They hop in a rhythm. 1,2--1,2--1,2.

I need a motivation. An Inspiration. It is what I wish for at 11:11 in the evening. That and that D and "Marcus" and "Jane" could all fall madly in love with me. Any one of them would do, for if it were all at the same time I pray that they don't mind sharing a bed. I need to be motivated and inspired to become a professional oboist. Or at least enough to continuously practice on a daily basis. That, as well as piano, french, roller-skating, singing lessons start in January, and of course, Blogging.

I actually made a video log the other day when I was home alone for three hours. It was concluded at one hour, forty minutes and has been edited down to maybe sixteen at the most (I'm not sure, I'm not exactly done with it). I have trouble with editing videos. Always reluctant to delete moments of me.

I won't give you any details of what happened in the magical land of Izzania while I was away galavanting in it, all I'll say is that my christmas was wonderful and that I can now sit in the middle of my room wearing a top hat and rummage through an old, vintage trunk to find that fascinator that I locked in there. The key is on my key ring along with a picture of Grell. Anyone who caught that reference can scream "Yahtzee!"

My soon-to-come topics of posting may include more obsessions, celebrity crushes, and the problems that I create in my head daily, because hidden deep in the conscious is the desire to spark conflict. Look forward to it, because I know you all are religiously checking up on my blog every hour.

Until next time my turtledoves :-*