Shot down by strangers/whose glances can cripple

Some interesting things have come to light today, things that I feel I must somehow...rectify. Not entirely sure how, but I'm going to try. All we can do is try, right?
One last overnight, and then two morning shifts, and then one last overnight and I'm done until next week. I'm looking forward to the break I sort-of get on Monday, because Monday morning I get home from work and don't have to go in until the next morning, so I have almost 24 hours off, which is terribly exciting. I usually only have 13 or 14 hours off. Yes, I work long shifts, but I don't mind. I actually don't mind my job too much. I mind aspects of it, like cleaning people up after accidents, but for the most part it's not bad. The overnights help, because it's quiet. I like quiet, except when I like noise, which isn't often, to be honest. My ideal vacation is when the rest of the family leaves and I get to spend time alone. I don't get that much anymore, because my brother hates leaving the house, but he usually stays in his room and I stay in mine, so it's not too bad. It's still not the same, though.
I'm back to losing weight, which is good, because now I've only got 15 more pounds to lose until I'm back to the size I was this summer...I miss being a size eight. I hadn't been a size eight since middle school. Looking at things a bit more objectively, my sister's a size six, and she's pretty thin. So I guess a size eight is small, too. It's always different, though, when you're looking at yourself. You see all the little tiny flaws that no one else will ever notice and can't believe that no one but you sees them. Plus, I'm curvy, which makes me feel bigger. I have to wear size large shirts just so I can get them past my chest, and so I usually feel a little frumpy because the rest of me isn't a size large. Luckily my mom is good friends with people who are really good with a sewing machine and they alter my clothes for free. I've offered to pay them, but they won't take money. I try not to abuse the privilege, though.
I started writing a story last night. It's the one where I'm supposed to name a character after the friend who gave me the idea, but I was having trouble coming up with a character who could suitably be named after him. I finally figured something out, though. He may not be best pleased, but that's not my fault. I can only write what the Story Council (thank you, Robin McKinley, for finally putting a name to it) permits me to write, as they permit me to write it. Half the time I blank out while I'm writing, and my fingers just move over the keyboard of their own accord. They stop when the story's done, and I have no idea what it is that I've written. It's never failed me yet, though. I wrote a couple of really good stories that way, one of which even got published. Granted, it was the university literary journal, but still, published is published, and now my name is in print on 500 bookshelves. Which is totally cool. We'll see how this one goes, as it's my first foray into the world of fantasy. Go figure, eh? I'm a huge fan of fantasy books and stories, but I've never actually written one. All of mine are just based on people I know and events that have happened. So yeah, we'll see.