For some reason, obscure and unclear to me, I was still up at 4:00 a.m. or so. I was watching Death Race 2000, “In The Year 2000 Hit And Run Driving Is No Longer A Felony. It’s The National Sport!” I didn’t watch the end of it, since I realized it was after 4 a.m., but I had to force myself to turn off the television. Why don’t they show such wonderful films during prime time?

I finished wrapping presents, printing out personalized gifts tags, etc., while watching the always enjoyable Say Anything.When that was over, though, an infomercial began, and I started flipping channels. I ended up watching Smokey and the Bandit II (I didn’t link to it, because you really shouldn’t care. In lieu of an actual review of that cinematic tour de force, I’ll say this–I woke up today, thinking “Huh, I know I went to bed at 4-ish, turning off Death Race 2000, and around midnight I was watching Say Anything what did I watch in between? Hmmmmm.” The only reason I know now is that I looked it up on zap2it.com, and it all washed back on me, Dom DeLuise as a fucking fat slob, this time with a bad Italian accent, Burt Reynolds performing as Burt Reynolds, Sally Fields, who should have her Oscar and Emmy revoked for perpetrating this felonious performance (I just wanted to write perpetrating), and fucking Jackie Gleason, who must have really hated himself during the entire film. I don’t know which is worse, Gleason as his Sheriff character or his brother “Gaylord,” who prances and minces in a faggedity stereotype unmatched since fourth grade recess, or his other brother “Reginald,” who arrives to a spoof of Jeannette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy that would have probably been a fucking riot in 1942 (or completely hack). I guess I’m just hoping old Jackie was drunk during the whole movie and effectively blacked it out.)

Back to Death Race 2000, it’s a little sad that the year 2000 didn’t have pedestrian hitting as a blood sport. It probably would have made mine happier.

This really belongs in another entry, but it’s on my mind. Here’s the dilemma, what is the best way to support and help someone 3000 miles away? Knowing that M. has a fuckload of things to do and knowing he has to get settled and embark on his new life confidently and comfortably means I don’t want to pile any more pressure on him or distract him. So, if he needs space I would want to give him what he needs. That’s the rational, cool me talking. But, the less cool, more about me, side of me (as though I have a side that’s not all about me), well that side wants to talk with him all the time and remind him of me and remind him of Cambridge and otherwise work from the notion that he has a distraction that exists over here on the East Coast. But, then again, maybe that’s not a “distraction” at all, maybe it’s a good anchor, or some other positive word. And, maybe if I say that I want to give himspace, he’ll misinterpret it that I want space and then neither one of us will get what we want.

Sometimes I have a hard time determining what is my obsessive-compulsive behavior versus a correct and “normal” number of calls or emails.

OK, maybe all of this worrying is just that I wish now that the holidays have descended that we were together. And, once this seasonal torment is over, I will know the right thing to do or say.

I’m not sure if I would want to date a crazy woman like me. Although, it likely beats out a lot of other crazy women I have met.