My next-door-neighbor was talking about me today.

Right, so I have established the whole "no sound barrier" bit. So, today I was lying in bed and I heard him talking about the "girl in the next room." I heard, "she plays guitar," where he cut off and his friend made some lame joke about coffeehouses and whatnot. "Hah hah hah." And then I heard, "Yeah, she's young; she seems very young." And then they went off about the Bears who had apparently just scored a touchdown. Da Bears. Silly football. Anyway. I am currently sitting in my bed eating chocolate. It's delicious. Even though my taste buds are weirdly destroyed. Like, no, really. They've reached the point where water tastes funny. I've decided that Rice Krispies are absolutely fantastic though. Props to their snap, crackle, and pop.
I'm not really sure what to write right now. It's Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas eve? There is a ginormous coffee-table book sitting on my bedside table. It's called Annie Leibovitz: A Photographer's Life 1990-2005. This is the woman who took the notable photograph of John Lennon and Yoko Ono that graced the cover of Rolling Stone, way back in the 70s. She's an amazing photographer. And I have no idea how to get there, to get to her level. To a point where people know your name, want to hire you, want you to take their picture. But that's just been on my mind lately. I've got a great camera, a solid foundation of the basics, and I'm exposing myself to a variety of photographers. So now what? Wait? Take more pictures? I know what I want to do with my life. It's just the getting there that's going to be tough. None of this has anything to do with my cancer, I don't think. I don't know, maybe in some weird, twisted way, this will have an influence on my career. How cool would that be if all of a sudden I was "enlightened," and could take fantastic pictures that aptly and compassionately portrayed my love of human-kind? Hah. Hahaha. Doubtful at best. But we'll see what comes of all of this.
As an aside: a nurse just came in to draw blood from my arm. It amazes me how some nurses are awesome at doing it, and others are just okay. This woman just came in, tied the rubber band thing around my huge bicep, found the vein, and was like "BAM!" All set. Whereas yesterday, the nurse who drew the blood left a little present of a bruise wedged neatly in my elbow crook. So that was interesting. But I'll finish blathering on for now. Pax from the windy/rainy city/what the hell happened to winter in Chicago?