When Doc Ido, a talented cyborg physician, finds Alita, she has lost all memory of her past life. But when he reconstructs her, she discovers her body still instinctively remembers the Panzer Kunst, the most powerful cyborg fighting technique ever known! Bounty hunter, singer, racer, killer: as the secrets of Alita's past unfold, everyday is a struggle for survival... Don't miss Alita's journey of self-discovery! - from the official t.v. series

It's like looking into a cartoon mirror. Today I hung up some photos in my grey little cubicle. It's all part of an effort to make it seem more like my space and less like an small impersonal grey area that can be reprogrammed to a new user in minutes. Currently I have Josie keeping me company from her perch on top of the monitor, and a wind-up walking Badtz Moru on my hard drive. Every once in awhile, I'll bump the desk by mistake, and he'll rattle to brief life. That, coupled with his glowering expression makes him one weird little penguin. Most of the pictures are from formal occasions...I didn't plan that, but it's just that everyone looks so fine. There's a very attractive shot from the Boy's father's wedding, that shows him and his sisters in the lobby. There's one from Edmonton, showing Agamemnon grabbing a smoke after the ordination and keeping watch for the bishop. There's one from my 21st birthday, that shows me in my new lace-up velvet dress & flamboyantly fake fire hydrant red hair on my tiptoes, kissing seersucker-clad Dirk on the cheek as he looks off into the distance. I'm very anonymous, you can see the folds of the dress, my flaming hair, a hint of body shape, the big rip in my fishnets and a sliver of face. Fianlly, there's two from last year's Fireball, one with me and the variously attired Saints, and one with me and Morgan and Little Spider and Dirk. (LS's saucy eyes pin me to my comfortable wheeled chair!) I love my desk now. Ugh. I had the most horrible/stupid dream a couple of nights ago. It was my wedding day -- late in my wedding day, and I was trying to get to the church and I realized that I'd forgotten to get pictures taken in the morning. Then I realized that I'd forgotten to get my hair done or anything else. I felt all upset & horrid, as we walked through a huge, badly lit mall. The end. I have a fear. My fear is that the things I have arranged for, the things that are my responsibility, will go belly up. That I'll suddenly be getting married and the bridesmaids won't have dresses, the guests won't have gifts, and there won't be a d.j. or photgrapher. There's an ad that captures my fear very well: "The first thing you'll do as a couple is throw a party for hundreds of people. No pressure." Bah. In case you're looking for a wedding update, I'll briefly run down achievements as of today. Wedding dress is bought & hanging in the laundry room. The hall and the church are booked. Some material for the service has been chosen (by me. The Boy keeps dogging this task). I've decided on the kind of flowers for table centerpieces and the bominieres. The maid of honour has found a dress she feels strongly about. Agamemnon is booked. Marriage classes have been attended & enjoyed. The menu is decided, though not finalized. The photographer & d.j. have been approached, and we have oral agreements. I've chosen navy as the colour, since dark green is out of season. Invitation paper has been chosen. The registry is half researched. remaining: A million details. I'm trying not to let it all overwhelm me. But I have very little patience when the Boy claims not to have any time to do the things he's responsible for. As Marge said to Homer, as he sat in the living room in his underwear and played with model trains; "I only asked you to do one thing, and you didn't do it!" I'm a very bitter girl sometimes. Life in the cubicle has slowed down considerable. As we change to a new operating system, there's a freeze in operations...which means that I've been doing a whole lotta nothing lately. It's very peaceful. As for the trauma situation, it also seems to have gotten quieter. He's still MIA, but at least she's not snapping at me anymore. The fact that she's a fairly nice girl doesn't make the situation any better. Twitch City was on last night. Wow. It's like a holding tank of Canadian talent. And my God, so well written. "To: Hope. Re: yesterday. Thanks so much for saving my life yesterday. Mmm. Boy, am I lucky to have you. Love, Curtis. CC: Cupid." I really can't articulate what I enjoy about the series without degenerating into fangirlish hyper-prose. It should be mandatory viewing, just like the 2 minutes of Hate. Well, maybe not. I have to say, though, I'm not terribly digging the transfer of Rex Reilly from Bruce McCullough to Mark McKinney. They're both brilliant commedians, but Mark's take on the character isn't very funny somehow. Pity.