Merry Christmas Ya' Filthy Animal.

It's 4:30 in the morning, and I can't sleep. I fly to Pennsylvania tomorrow at 6am. Perhaps my body is already adjusting for the early departure. I know this is going to read like shit tomorrow, because first drafts post-midnight are always the worst, but necessary.

I plan on finishing Dave Grohl's biography on my three flights to Wilkes-Barre tomorrow, so I can give it back to Betsy in Allentown. It's been 11 months... sorry Boots.

I also plan on finishing "A New Earth" by Eckhart Tolle while I'm home. Before my mother died, she started reading it but never finished. That or else she started over. I'm not sure, but I find myself starting books and not finishing, so maybe I got it from her. Anyway, she said it seems like a book I'd enjoy. It's pretty damn good so far, and it feels good to know that once you realize you're "insane" you can finally find sanity. I knew I wasn't alone.

Brad called me tonight, wondering if I was home, and invited me out to Kirby Park for some fucked up sledding. Last year, I dicked around too much while preparing to leave, and missed out on all the fun. Dan found a gash in his skull at the bottom of the hill when he met someone's kneecap. It always seems like I can never leave on time from my parents house.

It's almost 5... I've noticed my body sleeps in five-hour, oh shit, what's it called... sleep cycles? I have to wake up at 10 to get a ton of shit done before I leave, so I'm gonna try to get those five hours in, then maybe a 15 minute nap as the sun goes down behind San Francisco.

Good Morning.