I got a nice Christmas gift from the universe late last night: i discovered the work of Bill Hicks. He was an American comedian, satirist, and musician. I really like him. He's savage about capitalism and the mass media, subjects which i've been interested in since i studied them in my Mass Communications degree.

I stayed up til 3:30am listening to him perform and watching a biography of him. I finished both today. His music is groovy! I'm a bit worried about the erratic hours i've been keeping lately but i felt it was a special occasion, so i allowed it. Just wish i would sleep in later since the daytime is so grim for me. I'm not hypomanic today.

This might sound kind of whiny, but i feel kind of bitter that i'm not good at anything i care about like being a fiction writer, a singer/songwriter, or a comedian. What am i good at? Scrabble. What an absurd thing to be good at, so obscure. I try and tell myself that it's better than not being good at ANYTHING, but i still feel kind of jealous.