The word has taken on an unshakeable connotation of naivete. Is it just my cynical self that assumes that the young boy "with eager eyes" will be disappointed in the near future when his arm is mangled in a thresher? That the children "eagerly reaching" for gingerbread men will be brutally rebuffed by an evil stepmother? Optimism, hope, excitement - to my cliche loving mind, all portend disaster.

So whenever I find myself eager for something I worry. I don't want to jinx it.

This week has seemed insanely long because I think I'm thinking three times more than I'm actually thinking. I've harrowed myself into living in triplicate. What if this, what if that, what if nothing?

When I hear girls say "I can't eat the food I cook," I wonder whether it's because their food isn't cooked with love. That's how I feel when I eat any food that comes out of a container.

Well if you're bored / then you're boring!