(no subject)

[enamoured]

Last week in the Paper Journal, I wrote that time feels odd to me now. Like, when I was little, I remember an hour seeming like an eternity, and now it feels like nothing. This is what I will call the Time Out Effect. Remember having to sit in time out for five minutes at recess and it seeming like SO LONG? God, I remember once having to sit in time out for like, fifteen minutes to a half hour for something that I don't even remember and I'm sure someone else provoked me--because really, I am a nonconfrontational semi-adult and I was a nonconfrontational kid. That time felt like the better part of forever. But years still feel like such a long time to me.

I have an account at Vox (AM NOT JUMPING SHIP. STOP. AM STAYING AT LJ. STOP. TRYING NEW THINGS. STOP. NEED TO STOP PRETENDING THIS IS TELEGRAM. STOP.): viewparadise, because I had "Pure Imagination" on the brain. This also means I've got five invites, so if you want to give it a try, respond with an e-mail address and I'll hook you up. Conversely, I still have plenty of GMail invites, and until Google decides to offer money for not redeeming them, I'm more than willing to dole them out.

Need to go to bed. Oy.

Late Prison Break ramblings.

1. Poor, poor Nika. I feel totally sorry for her.
2. After that phone call, I think I'm now officially kindasorta sold on the Epic Love of Michael and the Good Doctor Sara.
3. Tweener... needs to stop. Seriously.
4. T-BAG SCARES ME BAD OKAY. Good Lord, after the scene by the pool where he was talking to the guy's daughter, I am now totally convinced that if I ever met Robert Knepper in person, I'd want to run away screaming. Watched all of his scenes curled up into the fetal position. Seriously.
5. ABRUZZI! [sniffles] Dammit Abruzzi, you were supposed to kill T-Bag!