Tony was the boss, that's a fact of life

I was just thinking about "The Facts of Life". I wish I could remember more about it, but for some reason the only two things that come to mind are Tutti and the fat one (I don't even remember her characters' name). I guess they aren't things but rather people. Wait. I'll leave it at things.
Hey, I also remember Blaire. She had really ashy blonde hair that looked like horsehair.
I wonder what the show I was like... I seriously can't remember. But I do know I hated the song at the beginning. I always thought the lady who sang it sounded really pretentious and Mary Poppons-ish. Like she was doing her dishes and arranging her record collection while she was singing the damn song.
Get off your high-horse.

I'm very happy that it snowed over the weekend. It's like a spit in the face to anyone who actually believed winter was over. Ha, ha!
Winter in Montreal is much shorter than in Saskatchewan, where it usually starts around September/October. That's when they get snow, enough so that it doesn't melt away until sometime in April or May.
That's why I don't think winter out here is anything. It barely gets cold here. Not long enough to notice it anyway.

I had a very indulgent weekend which should mean it's back to the grind today, except that I don't have a grind... on purpose.
What does today mean then? Well, it's back to creatively planning my days and giving as much time to writing as I can. Although I find it's much easier to be able to say, "I didn't have enough time today... boo hoo"
When I do make the time and stick with it, I get a lot done, or nothing good done, or something in between. But the point is that I am using the time instead of not making time and using that as an excuse not to put anything out. (I think I am justifying something to myself here)

Who cares anyway... writers are so annoying. It's the nature of the beast, but it disgusts me. I feel like I'm always talking about the writing and whether I had a productive day or if my mind is shutting down again. I don't like being so grotesquely conscious of myself.
I want to be anonymous in every way possible... like, "who's that girl?"
It's like being the girl desperately seeking Susan without knowing that she is Susan.

Hey, that would be a great swedish re-make of Desperately Seeking Susan. In black and white of course.

I can't stop thinking about this one quote from The Last Crossing:

"Aloysius said he arrived in America from Ireland just a babe in arms, but once he got off the potato diet, he grew like a weed. He is a prodigious height, six-foot-four in his stockings..."

It makes me imagine his mum holding him as they step off a boat and he is just a baby, but gnawing on a huge potato.
Then I can see him growing super fast, with his legs and arms sprouting out of the baby blanket... sort of like a weed.

I just can't stop imagining all the repercussions of this quote... super tall men from Ireland, potatoes, and stockings.