On a more serious note, today is the 25 anniversary of John Lennon's death. The radio station I listen to while driving to work was doing an all-Lennon show in tribute (they played a lovely cover he did of "Stand By Me", which I may have to track down); otherwise I probably would have missed the date. Lennon's death may be the earliest historical event that I'm certain I actually remember myself, not just remember other people talking about. I clearly recall that my mom was watching the Today show, as she did every morning, and they kept showing the outside of the apartment building where he was killed. It's odd that this image should be burned so strongly into my mind, because while Lennon was significant on a world scale, he wasn't particularly meaningful in my life at the time -- I was only seven, and neither of my parents were Beatles fans. Yet somehow my young brain seized on the moment, marked it as something worth remembering. Odd.
I am so brain dead this morning. I think I stayed up too late last night, mostly writing (AGL 42, which may be completely drafted, and the first bit of a story for a fanfic exchange) and playing with kittens. But I've got to perk up -- I have a student coming in, he asked for a lesson in using Windows, and I need to be awake for that. The tea isn't helping; I may have to break out the big guns and visit ye olde coffee Goliath down the street. Mmm, latte.