Let the spirit move me.

I'm finished exams so all that's left to do is wait until results time to find out if I passed everything. I have sorted out work- the best I can- so I have some solid hours on which to build in terms of saving up money for next year. I'm methodically creating time in which to catch up with friends.

And here's where the regular, everyday stuff ends. By the end of this weird rant you'll be begging for the mundane. But then that would be me assuming I'm not incredibly predictable and we know that's not true. So perhaps this is more normal than anything. Oh well, here I go.

My best friend's mother's birthday party was tonight. Kat's Mum, Alex, is a fantastic woman in every way. She is physically stunning, she is brave, she's smart, she's creative and she's kind. Of course her friends and family adore her. So this was a lovely party of people just wanting to honour someone who embodies what we all want to be which is undeniably beautiful.

Alex's husband- Kat's father, Joe- said the most wonderful thing when giving a speech. He said to Alex; "I don't just love you. I like you, too." And that's what makes a relationship last, isn't it? Any relationship, really. It's when you don't just love someone. You don't just have a history and heart in common. Your relationship is as alive as when you didn't know them but you wanted to. It grows and it changes and it surprises you and so do they. They make you laugh and smile and cry and curse.

Love is a dull thing. It's an ongoing feeling that is stable and simple when it's there and similarly uncomplicated when it's gone. Like is how we fill our days. It's the hurried conversation between people who trip over topics on their way to learning more about someone, be it for the first time or just the first time in a day or two. Like is the smell of someone's clothing when you hug them. Like is the way you feel about someone the second after they make a good joke or reach out for your hand or miss the food stuck on their chin when they swipe at it with their hand.

I love so many people who have moved in and out of my life but from year to year there are always a finite amount of people who I like. And I am certain there are a smaller number of people who like me, too. But as long as we have that, we know we have it in us to stick together.

Baker is coming to visit tomorrow just 'cause. I love that. And I like him.

2am and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake.

I get really productive about three hours past my bedtime. Tonight, or this morning, I discovered just how much one can get done when drowsiness doesn't kick in when it should. I always get good at things right about the time I should be focussing on something else. For instance, I am blogging a lot currently because a) there is nothing left to tidy in my bedroom and b) I am supposed to be studying for exams. I never thought I'd be writing much in this blog because, seriously, 'sif my life is interesting. I resolved to be committed anyway, in spite of my lack of inspiration and poor history with follow-through, and here we are. I've written so much here this week I think my journal is going to get suspicious and hire a Private Investigator to tail me.

I have everything organised for tomorrow and, at this rate, I'm going to be awake to greet it. I hope my passport arrives. I hope Julia isn't disgusted by my home and hostessing skillz, respectively. I hope I get a lot of study done and have some fun in the process (HA!). And I hope I can get some work options lined up.

I am so sleepy right now, finally, and am watching Gabrielle and some adorable little punk girl get cornered by a gang of greedy men (is there any other kind? Don't answer that with a "hey!" or I might have to apologise for my lazy and unfunny generalisation). If this beautiful drooping of my eyelids gets any more intense, I might be forced to retire to the Land of Nod and give up on completing minor projects tonight. Oh, what we do for sleep.

To conquer others is to have power. To conquer yourself...

I could spend less time criticising others and more time improving myself but what fun would that be?

I was so angry when I read a girl's comment on Facebook comparing Kristen Stewart's acting performance in Twilight to the way someone with Down Syndrome behaves. So it's not enough that anti-semitism and homophobia are common inspirations for insults, now we have to bring in people born with debilitating intellectual and physical attributes? Someone pointed out to me recently that I used the word "lame" on this blog and for that I am truly sorry. If it could ever upset someone the way that one sentence written on a website for the entire world to see upset me then ... well, I don't even know how it would make me feel. I can't fathom the kind of pain this abuse of language inflicts on others.

And I can't continue to smile and nod and go against my nature simply because I think it will help my life and make things easier for me. The honour in that is non-existent. Recently I just stood by and listened to a woman at work talk about how homeless people don't try hard enough and I hated myself for doing so. Like all of the other people who were a part of that discussion I ignored her statement; I just went on talking and acted as though I'd accepted what she said as though there was nothing wrong with her viewpoint. I don't normally assume the "I'm right, you're wrong" perspective but in situations like this I don't think a generalisation like that woman's has any real validity. I should have opposed her but selfishness and a distorted idea of self-preservation had me holding my tongue.

I don't understand how comparing someone to a person with Down's Syndrome is funny. I also don't understand how it is an insult. I mean, my nephew is just one of the many incredible people who has this condition and, frankly, anyone being placed in the same category has no right to feel slighted. Similarly, to say making a home for yourself on the streets every day and every night is easier than living with the security and comfort of having a house and all the security that goes with it is beyond forgivable.

My anger does not make me an ideal candidate for discussing this, only a very willing one. I'm afraid of the words I will use if I end up confronting people about the way they talk and the people it affects. I have to hope that I can keep my composure long enough to articulate my viewpoint without giving in and being aggressive and, above all, offensive; the same crime I have charged them with.

As I said before, I am far from innocent. Perhaps my anger would have been better off directed at myself. But I did what I always do which is work through my emotions through writing about them and hopefully discovering a way to be less ... thoroughly insane in the process.