Whenever Dad was in the hospital, there was always some old person who wouldn't shut up, screaming and moaning all night. Now apparently Grandma is that woman. All she does is just cry out, "Help me," over and over. I guess she's improving, today it was more of a whimper than a moan, but seeing as the doctors have told us that the cancer is terminal, one has to wonder if its worth putting her through this. The doctors say she's confused due to the intensity of the surgery, and that she should be improved mentally by the end of the week. But I'm especially worried about the toll this is taking on my mother. She really didn't need this.

I watched Bottle Rocket tonight. I'd never seen it before, which is disgraceful, I know. I didn't like it as much as their other movies, but it was entertaining. Interesting to see the roots of some of the techniques from Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums. I thought Bottle Rocket might be more frenetic and experimental than the later films, but it seems like its success actually enabled them to be more assured in their unique techniques. I'm glad I finally got around to watching it.

I have had very little energy lately. I've only ran once this week, and of all my little projects, I've barely got anything done. Yet somehow I've managed to keep up with school, at least. I'm running in the Carlsbad 5000 tomorrow, so that should offer some objective guidance as to where I am now versus where I've been; if I'm just in a little funk or if I've fallen back in my fitness goals. I once hoped to break 20:00 at the race, but now I'm just hoping I can just hold my pace from my last race. I'll call Monday a rest day, and then I'll see about getting back on track. Maybe go to bed earlier? But who wants to do that?