Stream of Consciousness

In college, my roommates and I used to have "stream of consciousness" share time. Usually in one of our bedrooms, but sometimes in a car in the Starbucks parking lot, we would each take a turn to just... talk. No interruptions, no judgements on what was said. Just time for your thoughts to flow freely from your brain.
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Tonight, faced with a blank screen and a blinking cursor, I bring you my stream of consciousness.
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I'm going to a wedding on Saturday. I always forget the amount of time and preparation that go into leaving town. Especially for this trip: packing, checking out a book on tape from the library, wrapping the wedding present, buying some new shoes to wear to the wedding because I just need some new heels. My mind won't stop whirring and thinking about the weekend. That's probably why it's the first thing to seep out of my consciousness here....
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I get pretty vivid deja vu fairly often. Is this normal at all? Oh and let's just skip over the obvious Matrix joke right now....
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As has been established, I really love lists. Particularly entertainment/pop culture related lists. That's why the past week has been such a joy for me. As you know, last week was the AFI Top 10 of 10 list. Then on Friday I got my Entertainment Weekly in the mail. Their 1000th issue. Full of lists of the "new classic" movies (props to Lord of the Rings-- again!), tv shows (Gilmore Girls! Number 32! That's what I'm talking about!), stage productions (Hooray for WICKED!), books (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire at #2-- they picked the right one!), and music (umm...whatever). THEN this week they started the ridiculously early but still entertaining VH1 series "I Love the New Millenium." It's weird to watch them comment about things that JUST happened and then make it sound like it's ancient history. Very bizarre. And apparently 2003 was my year, because they discussed Return of the King, The OC, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Clay Aiken. I mean-- come on! And for 2001 they discussed both Moulin Rouge and Pearl Harbor. Are these countdowns made for me, or are they made for me?
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Ginger has finally succumbed to the Facebook Flair phenomena! I tried to warn her of the crazy addiction it causes, but apparently she already spent ages on it last night. So let's give her a big welcome: go send her lots.
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Here's some movies that you need to see or see again. Add them to your Netflix queue. Or borrow them from me. I'd be happy to oblige. Try: The Others, The Prestige, Almost Famous ("I have to go home" "You are home"), Waiting for Guffman, Frequency, and Stardust. I think you'll really enjoy these. Or enjoy them again, because you know it's been a long time since you've seen Almost Famous. Now go knock yourself out.
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Currently I am experiencing what can only be described as a hot flash. Second one of the day. Show of hands for who thinks I'm going through "the change."

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I've had Toby Mac's Ordinary Love stuck in my head. All. Day. All day. Thank you, Julie. I never knew such bliss existed.

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One time a couple months ago my brother left the stove on all weekend because he thought it was preheating. The stove. All weekend. We're kind of worried about him. (And I'm not even going to tell you how old he is. It's that tragic.)
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You want to see my new weekend wedding shoes? Really?? Well...okay. They look like this, except they're purple. (And much cuter on me than in this picture.) I found these in the 12th store I visited looking for shoes. 12th. Also: the left shoe is looser than the right. Huh?? That will be one of the questions I ask God. Why make some of us with feet that don't match?
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I've been making a lot of phone calls at work. Like really-- a lot. I've gotten my little spiel (schpiel?) down pat. And you know how people say when you say a word so often it doesn't even sound like a word anymore? Well I've said my phone number so many times it just doesn't sound like... anything. It's just noise. Now I have to tap my finger as I say each digit so as not to rush through the whole thing.
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I cried during The Bachelorette the other night. Yep. That show. That's the one. Moving on.

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I can't believe I've lived in my apartment for a year and a half! Does that make me a grown up yet? Hmm...really? Then why don't I feel like one yet?