Dear Jack

Dear old Clive Staples Lewis.

Horrible name, eh? I see from his wikipedia entry that his friends called him Jack, which is a splendid name. Nobody really noticed when he died, because it was the same day Kennedy was assassinated, and Aldous Huxley died also.

He was a treasure, though. I find his writing so calmingly and seductively logical. It's like Morgan Freeman reading me the periodic table as I fall asleep; I am soothed by the order and flow as much as I am by the voice.

I am currently reading "The Problem of Pain". It is only 150 wee pages long, but I am taking a while with it because I don't want to miss anything. I just cannot explain to you the goodness that I feel when I read this. It is good like freezing cold 3% milk, or like swimming in the summer, or like nice red peppers. Spectacularly refreshing.
Apologies if my vehemence is off-putting.

I finally finished Band of Brothers today. 'Twas well done indeed. I am grateful that our generation has not see real war, and will likely never see the kind of fighting that those people did.
On Christmas Eve Day, when I was at the mall, I struck up conversation with a crazy old man selling plants in a booth. Actually, he struck up conversation with me. He was such a sweetie and told me things like he could tell I was a nice person. It made me all shame-y inside, which is healthy. Anyway, he said he had signed up for the war when he was 20 years old, and his cousin had lied to get in at age 17. I didn't ask what he had done in the war because I don't know if that is polite. He went on to say that our generation (me excepted, of course :P ) took a lot of things for granted, like peace, prosperity, and freedom.
I like that old man very much. I feel like I owe it to him to be thankful for what has been given to me. I owe it to him to make something of myself with the opportunities that have been handed to me.
If you ever see an old fellow with the droopiest neck ever selling plants (specifically bonsai) at the mall, talk to him. He is swell.

Christmas was not so bad this year. Less people means less stress means less fights. We had food on the 24th and opened "presents" (my parents do not really believe in gifts so we just get lots of snacks). We told funny stories about poop for a while. It was ok. My wee sister and I hung out for most of my time at home. I truly enjoy that kid's company.

My driving test is on Wednesday morning. Hoo-ra.