*laments* Oh, I weep for the idealist, the artist, the dreamer;
I weep for those with hopes that reach the sky.
I weep for the wise man, the philosopher, the thinker;
I weep for those with the courage to wonder, 'why'?
I weep for the tolerant, the kind, and the generous;
I weep for those who give with no thought for themselves.
I weep for the blind, the deaf, and the mute;
Those with no eyes to see things as they are
And those with no voice to speak of how they should be.
I weep for the world that dies day by day;
I weep for the people that tear it apart.
I weep for the dying, who have not yet lived;
I weep for the living, who wish they could die.
Oh, brothers and sisters, weep for your parents;
Oh, mothers and fathers, weep for your children;
Oh, weep all you lovers, for you too shall know loneliness;
Oh, weep all you lonely, for you shall know love.
Oh, that the world might see our tears
And know the depths of our grief;
Let us weep, that the pain might wash itself away.
----------
You know, it was going fine until I realized I didn't know why I was weeping; only that it ought to be done.
Monday, August 26, 2002
Here's another one (link found at nervousness.org, doi, but still...)
1000Journals
Don't tell me you didn't click on that link, read the info, and weren't the least bit tempted, or didn't feel the slightest bit of longing.
Ideas that connect people, like this and the nervousness.org one, are precious and amazing. *sigh* I, of course, am a retarded, whining little coward; moot as that point may be at times, it is true and it does affect most of my actions. *doublesigh*
That is a really neat thing, though.
1000Journals
Don't tell me you didn't click on that link, read the info, and weren't the least bit tempted, or didn't feel the slightest bit of longing.
Ideas that connect people, like this and the nervousness.org one, are precious and amazing. *sigh* I, of course, am a retarded, whining little coward; moot as that point may be at times, it is true and it does affect most of my actions. *doublesigh*
That is a really neat thing, though.
Lookit!
Nervousness.org
This has got to be one of the coolest things I've ever seen. Y'remember those stupid chain letters your cousins used to send you (oh, wait, that was only my relatives...sorry)? The ones where you send the letters to ten people and somehow someone sends you pencils? It's a little like that...only cooler. Much cooler. Mmm, temptation. S'just nifty, you know?
Nervousness.org
This has got to be one of the coolest things I've ever seen. Y'remember those stupid chain letters your cousins used to send you (oh, wait, that was only my relatives...sorry)? The ones where you send the letters to ten people and somehow someone sends you pencils? It's a little like that...only cooler. Much cooler. Mmm, temptation. S'just nifty, you know?
Well, I had this long and involved character bio half written for Cata, and then the thunderstorm blinked the power (there's something about black-outs, the sudden absence of light and sound and electricity- we take so much for granted, really, and in those few moments of utter natural silence(which isn't silent at all, but filled with the wind howling and rain beating desperately against the windows and the roarcrackgrowl of thunder that makes the dishes on the wall shake) the world suddenly seems so much smaller- until the lights snap back on, and the computer reboots with it's crackle and hum, and the the oddest feeling washed over me- a tingle of electricity returning, as though I, too, were wired to the outlet in the wall, a crackle of black and red sparks all along my arms, starting at my fingertips where they touched the keyboard and ending at my spine where it flashed behind my eyes...) so I lost the whole thing.
The hairdryer bit directly references Cata, though- she appeared in my head a few days ago, in the form of an image that didn't so much beg as command to be drawn (though given my lack of talent at reproducing the images in my head, what started off as an expression of absolute distance has taken on tinges of scorn- I hate it when my ideas and muses give me funny looks); I started to try on...Friday? Yes, Friday, but then I burnt my finger, and I couldn't hold anything but an icecube for a while. My finger now has a funny looking blister, but doesn't hurt, and holding pencils is only slightly more awkward than normal.
Still, the inability to draw forced creativity through other outlets, and while I was drying my hair on Saturday, Cata and Umbra and Zyn showed up in my head. (I should possibly clarify that few of my characters actually speak to me; (antisocial lot that they are) when I say they show up, they do just that, usually halfway through some random scene with no introduction or explanation, just going at it with words or swords or extendable forks, and then it's my job to figure out who the hell they are and what the hell they're doing.)
I've always wanted to do some sort of super-hero story (see my sailor moon obsession); a few years ago I found the other brother's comic book stash in his closet, and I'd spend hours picking through them. (I've always had a particular soft spot for X-Men, simply because of very happy, very old memories involving the cartoon (that and the fact that Gambit just rocked), but I've also developed a fondness for Spiderman, Ghost Rider, and The Punisher (inasmuch as one can develop a fondness for them...). The other brother didn't deal much with DC Comics, beyond about three Batman issues; he was a Marvel kind of guy.) It was somewhat inevitable that I'd start designing my own superheroes. *cough* That was a little bit of a while ago...and most of them could be found in one form or another as existing characters. (Damn Marvel's proliferation! Damn it!)
Anyway (as this is getting further and further away from the oh, so blunted point), Cata is my latest super-hero, only slightly twisted and quite a bit darker than most of my original ideas were. She wanders the streets of the city (I suck at figuring settings. I'd make a lewd comment just to get my point across, but really, it's inarticulable. (I'd make a lewd comment about that, too, but that would be quite pointless...aw, fuck. Give me a minute to get my mind out of the gutter, would ya?)) as Nocturne, catsuited fighter of...something.
The original image in my head was one of Nocturne, who is less human than she isn't, and wears a lot of black. (The picture I saw was Yoshitaka Amano-esque, done in watercolors with his trademark pale skin and graceful figures- I suppose she looked vaguely like some of the character art for Terra from FFVI, but not exactly...it's times like this that I could tear my eyes out for not being able to properly express these things.) Nocturne looks radically different from Cata, though both are tall and thin with a heart-shaped face and longish wavyish hair (way to go with the vagueness!); where Cata is a dirty blonde, Nocturne's hair is a curtain of snow, and her eyes are a cross between the red of old blood and the red of new rose buds. Cata's eyes are leaf-green.
I don't feel like doing Cata's complete bio right now...and I still haven't figured out what Nocturne is, or what Umbra is (or rather, I know what Umbra is, I just don't know how or why it is), or what either of them have to do with Zyn and Imbrium. I did draw pictures of them, though. Much fun with my black marker, though I do have issues with pulling of the cap. (Either I struggle with it for ten minutes, or I pull the whole thing off- cap, tip, and the roll of dye-injected cotton inside. Great potential for a very large mess, that. But it's such a nice black...) Nocturne is very un-colorful. Imbrium is very colorful. Like, turquoise blue, navy blue, and bright pink colorful. And that's just his face. I haven't gotten around to figuring out what the rest of him looks like.
It's just...interesting. I've been inundated with snippets of scenes and information and images; it's a creative flood of biblical proportions, that's what it is. And that worries me, because that means it will probably never get written. Hopefully I'll be able to channel some of this creativity into starting it properly, but I've already tried, and it hasn't worked well. I need to learn to write properly, you know. I still haven't figured out how. (Sad, ain't it?)
On the other hand, it's a hell of a lot of fun to be awash in information like this. Day dreaming has always been one of my favorite occupations, you know. And that's essentially what it is- what any of my stories are. Rather long, involved day dreams; products of a distracted mind. ;)
The hairdryer bit directly references Cata, though- she appeared in my head a few days ago, in the form of an image that didn't so much beg as command to be drawn (though given my lack of talent at reproducing the images in my head, what started off as an expression of absolute distance has taken on tinges of scorn- I hate it when my ideas and muses give me funny looks); I started to try on...Friday? Yes, Friday, but then I burnt my finger, and I couldn't hold anything but an icecube for a while. My finger now has a funny looking blister, but doesn't hurt, and holding pencils is only slightly more awkward than normal.
Still, the inability to draw forced creativity through other outlets, and while I was drying my hair on Saturday, Cata and Umbra and Zyn showed up in my head. (I should possibly clarify that few of my characters actually speak to me; (antisocial lot that they are) when I say they show up, they do just that, usually halfway through some random scene with no introduction or explanation, just going at it with words or swords or extendable forks, and then it's my job to figure out who the hell they are and what the hell they're doing.)
I've always wanted to do some sort of super-hero story (see my sailor moon obsession); a few years ago I found the other brother's comic book stash in his closet, and I'd spend hours picking through them. (I've always had a particular soft spot for X-Men, simply because of very happy, very old memories involving the cartoon (that and the fact that Gambit just rocked), but I've also developed a fondness for Spiderman, Ghost Rider, and The Punisher (inasmuch as one can develop a fondness for them...). The other brother didn't deal much with DC Comics, beyond about three Batman issues; he was a Marvel kind of guy.) It was somewhat inevitable that I'd start designing my own superheroes. *cough* That was a little bit of a while ago...and most of them could be found in one form or another as existing characters. (Damn Marvel's proliferation! Damn it!)
Anyway (as this is getting further and further away from the oh, so blunted point), Cata is my latest super-hero, only slightly twisted and quite a bit darker than most of my original ideas were. She wanders the streets of the city (I suck at figuring settings. I'd make a lewd comment just to get my point across, but really, it's inarticulable. (I'd make a lewd comment about that, too, but that would be quite pointless...aw, fuck. Give me a minute to get my mind out of the gutter, would ya?)) as Nocturne, catsuited fighter of...something.
The original image in my head was one of Nocturne, who is less human than she isn't, and wears a lot of black. (The picture I saw was Yoshitaka Amano-esque, done in watercolors with his trademark pale skin and graceful figures- I suppose she looked vaguely like some of the character art for Terra from FFVI, but not exactly...it's times like this that I could tear my eyes out for not being able to properly express these things.) Nocturne looks radically different from Cata, though both are tall and thin with a heart-shaped face and longish wavyish hair (way to go with the vagueness!); where Cata is a dirty blonde, Nocturne's hair is a curtain of snow, and her eyes are a cross between the red of old blood and the red of new rose buds. Cata's eyes are leaf-green.
I don't feel like doing Cata's complete bio right now...and I still haven't figured out what Nocturne is, or what Umbra is (or rather, I know what Umbra is, I just don't know how or why it is), or what either of them have to do with Zyn and Imbrium. I did draw pictures of them, though. Much fun with my black marker, though I do have issues with pulling of the cap. (Either I struggle with it for ten minutes, or I pull the whole thing off- cap, tip, and the roll of dye-injected cotton inside. Great potential for a very large mess, that. But it's such a nice black...) Nocturne is very un-colorful. Imbrium is very colorful. Like, turquoise blue, navy blue, and bright pink colorful. And that's just his face. I haven't gotten around to figuring out what the rest of him looks like.
It's just...interesting. I've been inundated with snippets of scenes and information and images; it's a creative flood of biblical proportions, that's what it is. And that worries me, because that means it will probably never get written. Hopefully I'll be able to channel some of this creativity into starting it properly, but I've already tried, and it hasn't worked well. I need to learn to write properly, you know. I still haven't figured out how. (Sad, ain't it?)
On the other hand, it's a hell of a lot of fun to be awash in information like this. Day dreaming has always been one of my favorite occupations, you know. And that's essentially what it is- what any of my stories are. Rather long, involved day dreams; products of a distracted mind. ;)
Saturday, August 24, 2002
If I ever become a published author, and someone interviews me and asks me where I get my ideas, I swear I'll say my hairdryer. Because the sad thing is, my hairdryer is probably the most inspirational thing I own. I don't get ideas and inspiration when listening to music or contemplating the universe, I get my inspiration when I'm drying my hair. Occasionally when brushing my teeth, too. In fact that sounds better.
Intvr: "So, could you tell us the source of your inspiration?"
Me: "My toothbrush."
Intvr: "...your what?"
Me: "Toothbrush. You know, bristley, plastic, you go brushbrushbrush on your teeth with it?"
Intvr: "I...see."
Intvr: "So, could you tell us the source of your inspiration?"
Me: "My toothbrush."
Intvr: "...your what?"
Me: "Toothbrush. You know, bristley, plastic, you go brushbrushbrush on your teeth with it?"
Intvr: "I...see."
Her shadow was following her again. Cata gritted her teeth and resolutely ignored it; if the damn thing wanted to speak to her, it could do so without stalking her. She could see it out of the corner of her eye as she walked across the apartment complex to her building and skipped lightly up the stairs to her door. Her key was still under the mat, where it belonged.
The shadow slid into the apartment behind her. Outside, clouds descended upon the complex, and it began to rain. Cata flopped onto her couch and kicked her shoes at the far wall, already black with scuff marks.
"Are you gonna do that every day?" She reached behind her head and clawed open the minifridge, and pulled out a Dr Pepper.
"Do what?"
"Don't play innocent with me, Umbra. People are gonna start to notice when they see my shadow wandering around in the wrong direction. Too many weird things have been going on lately, and if people start to suspect me, it'll be that much harder to get my job done."
Umbra sighed, a bare whisper on the air, and coiled around itself. "But you are one of those strange things. Nocturne is more than an urban legend now; papers have been posting articles. Someone got a picture of us two nights ago."
"All the more reason for you to stay away from me during the day! Creepy guys have been hanging around the office, and I think one of them might know what you are." Cata took a sip of her soda, grateful for freyon and air conditioning and all those other marvels of modern technology.
"What!" Umbra sprang to its feet, sliding closer to the wall to better look down at Cata. "Who? And how can he know anything- you don't even know what I am, and you're my host!"
"Yeah, about that, Umbry- when am I gonna get to know the whole "Origin of Nocturne", huh? I mean, if I'm stuck doing this super-hero thing, I really ought to know who I really am." Cata looked pointedly at the shadow. Umbra flickered and turned its head to the side.
"What you don't know can't hurt you. Tell me about these men, these men who might know what I am..."
"Guy's name is Zyn Margols. He was very interested in my name. Said he was writing an article for the Ledger. He wanted to know everything I knew about the recent attacks. He had weird eyes." Cata closed her own eyes for a moment to remember them better. "Like...well, they looked a lot like Nocturne's. Soulless, if you know what I mean."
Umbra coiled down into a thoughtful position. "Nocturne's eyes aren't soulless. Quite the opposite, in fact. Hmm...Zyn Margols...he doesn't sound familiar. I'll have to keep following you to work so I can get a glimpse of him."
"Oka-"
"Great!" Umbra slid along the wall. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me!"
"Hey!" Cata shouted after the rapidly retreating shadow. "No you don't! Not fair! You tricked me! Get back here you nebulous, sneaky little booger!" Her Dr Pepper sloshed out of the can and splashed across the couch, joining countless other stains there. "Aww, dammit! Look what you made me do! I'm gonna start making you pay rent now, so you'd better look for jobs asking for 'annoying, slithery, demons from hell', you hear me! Get back here!"
On the floor below, Cata's neighbors banged on the ceiling with a broom.
The shadow slid into the apartment behind her. Outside, clouds descended upon the complex, and it began to rain. Cata flopped onto her couch and kicked her shoes at the far wall, already black with scuff marks.
"Are you gonna do that every day?" She reached behind her head and clawed open the minifridge, and pulled out a Dr Pepper.
"Do what?"
"Don't play innocent with me, Umbra. People are gonna start to notice when they see my shadow wandering around in the wrong direction. Too many weird things have been going on lately, and if people start to suspect me, it'll be that much harder to get my job done."
Umbra sighed, a bare whisper on the air, and coiled around itself. "But you are one of those strange things. Nocturne is more than an urban legend now; papers have been posting articles. Someone got a picture of us two nights ago."
"All the more reason for you to stay away from me during the day! Creepy guys have been hanging around the office, and I think one of them might know what you are." Cata took a sip of her soda, grateful for freyon and air conditioning and all those other marvels of modern technology.
"What!" Umbra sprang to its feet, sliding closer to the wall to better look down at Cata. "Who? And how can he know anything- you don't even know what I am, and you're my host!"
"Yeah, about that, Umbry- when am I gonna get to know the whole "Origin of Nocturne", huh? I mean, if I'm stuck doing this super-hero thing, I really ought to know who I really am." Cata looked pointedly at the shadow. Umbra flickered and turned its head to the side.
"What you don't know can't hurt you. Tell me about these men, these men who might know what I am..."
"Guy's name is Zyn Margols. He was very interested in my name. Said he was writing an article for the Ledger. He wanted to know everything I knew about the recent attacks. He had weird eyes." Cata closed her own eyes for a moment to remember them better. "Like...well, they looked a lot like Nocturne's. Soulless, if you know what I mean."
Umbra coiled down into a thoughtful position. "Nocturne's eyes aren't soulless. Quite the opposite, in fact. Hmm...Zyn Margols...he doesn't sound familiar. I'll have to keep following you to work so I can get a glimpse of him."
"Oka-"
"Great!" Umbra slid along the wall. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me!"
"Hey!" Cata shouted after the rapidly retreating shadow. "No you don't! Not fair! You tricked me! Get back here you nebulous, sneaky little booger!" Her Dr Pepper sloshed out of the can and splashed across the couch, joining countless other stains there. "Aww, dammit! Look what you made me do! I'm gonna start making you pay rent now, so you'd better look for jobs asking for 'annoying, slithery, demons from hell', you hear me! Get back here!"
On the floor below, Cata's neighbors banged on the ceiling with a broom.
I have no name.
I only just realized this yesterday, when I was signing up for a message board. I mean, I've been known as Shateiel or Elfgirl or Vera for the most part, but I don't think of myself in terms of any of those names. Not even the real one, (which should, for reference, be pronounced with a short 'e' sound. not the nasal, long 'e' of Veeeera that everyone aside from my family uses to refer to me. it doesn't bother me that much, and I don't care much either way. but. just for reference.) which means that I'm sort of lacking an identity right now.
It's a little bit disconcerting. My signature here says Bela, which I like the sound of, and I may henceforth wish to be called that in general. But at the same time it has a bit too much of a gothic connotation, and that's not me at all.
What this means is that I've signed up for the damned message board as Bela, but I have no username, because I can't figure for the life of me who I really am.
I should like to start over, I think. (But I think I'm thinking in circles now- much as I love the rain, the clouds do more than simply cloud the sky.)
And now I'm being cryptic, though I swear I don't mean to be. I'm just a little tired, and more than a little confused.
I only just realized this yesterday, when I was signing up for a message board. I mean, I've been known as Shateiel or Elfgirl or Vera for the most part, but I don't think of myself in terms of any of those names. Not even the real one, (which should, for reference, be pronounced with a short 'e' sound. not the nasal, long 'e' of Veeeera that everyone aside from my family uses to refer to me. it doesn't bother me that much, and I don't care much either way. but. just for reference.) which means that I'm sort of lacking an identity right now.
It's a little bit disconcerting. My signature here says Bela, which I like the sound of, and I may henceforth wish to be called that in general. But at the same time it has a bit too much of a gothic connotation, and that's not me at all.
What this means is that I've signed up for the damned message board as Bela, but I have no username, because I can't figure for the life of me who I really am.
I should like to start over, I think. (But I think I'm thinking in circles now- much as I love the rain, the clouds do more than simply cloud the sky.)
And now I'm being cryptic, though I swear I don't mean to be. I'm just a little tired, and more than a little confused.
New favorite song is that "One Last Breath" by Creed thing. I don't really like Creed- I couldn't stand "With Arms Wide Open" and "Higher" got overplayed (never mind that, at a certain point in time, I could be found in a bowling alley playing an air guitar to that riff- you know the one- while screaming the lyrics at the top of my lungs. That was before they played it too much.) and I've listened to one of their albums and didn't particularly care for it.
One Last Breath is fun because it reminds me of Boffo for some reason, and because in the beginning when whatsisname is singing really low, I can just barely hit the notes, and it amuses me to do so. (I am easily amused. You know that. I know that. Why are you questioning it?)
Also. It rained again last night...and it's been drizzling and misting all day, and it's cold and humid and delightfully autumn-like, and we all know autumn is the best season of the year, right? I was just thinkin', though- when I graduate from college, summer vacation will cease to exist (unless I go into teaching, which has the same odds as me running away and joining the circus as a trapeze artist...but wait, those are pretty good odds. The same odds as a hamster's chance in hell, then. Because a snowball would survive just fine.) and then autumn will no longer have the same connotation for me. It'll still be the best time of year. Cooling weather, colorful leaves, rain...(not to mention Halloween, my birthday, and peach pie. mmm...)
Everything looks very, very green right now. Even the dead grass; it's so overcast and wet that the sky looks green, reflecting off the trees. Beautiful.
One Last Breath is fun because it reminds me of Boffo for some reason, and because in the beginning when whatsisname is singing really low, I can just barely hit the notes, and it amuses me to do so. (I am easily amused. You know that. I know that. Why are you questioning it?)
Also. It rained again last night...and it's been drizzling and misting all day, and it's cold and humid and delightfully autumn-like, and we all know autumn is the best season of the year, right? I was just thinkin', though- when I graduate from college, summer vacation will cease to exist (unless I go into teaching, which has the same odds as me running away and joining the circus as a trapeze artist...but wait, those are pretty good odds. The same odds as a hamster's chance in hell, then. Because a snowball would survive just fine.) and then autumn will no longer have the same connotation for me. It'll still be the best time of year. Cooling weather, colorful leaves, rain...(not to mention Halloween, my birthday, and peach pie. mmm...)
Everything looks very, very green right now. Even the dead grass; it's so overcast and wet that the sky looks green, reflecting off the trees. Beautiful.
Friday, August 23, 2002
Well, here's hoping that "system maintanence" means they'll fix my account. I don't know why I bother, anymore. I mean, scribble not only required payment, but the server is down all the time. *scowl* Me and my damned sentimental attatchements. I liked the setup, that's all. It was easy to deal with. And it's the same with freeservers; when I first signed up, they had really good service, plenty of space, it didn't crash, no pop-ups, just the one banner (and I've always hated pop-ups more than banners, honestly), but now they've nearly cut my space in half, pop-ups abound, the banner has gotten uglier, and it crashes when I try to update. Oh, and enetation- wtf? Why won't you work anymore? Yaaaaaaarrrrrgggg!
I sure know how to pick 'em, eh? I'll be getting my own domain soon, though. If I don't I'll be forced to stab myself in the eye. (I just have to work up the nerve to ask for one, and it will be forthcoming. But I hate asking for things. Hate it.) Also a new journal service, as I can't take this anymore; it's possible that the same thing happened all the other times the server went down, and my timing was good enough that I didn't have to see it happen, but when I sign in, I don't want to see "journal entry #1" at the top of the page when I've written over 200. It doesn't make me happy. So I'll back up the rest of my entries when everything gets back on line (and if they aren't there I will throw a major tizzy fit involving death, doom, destruction, and damnation, not to mention a bit of pain and suffering and harassment on the side), and then I'll move elsewhere. Everything will be okay. It will. (The basis of working magick is force of will and positive thinking; if you think it hard enough, an it harm none, it will happen. In theory. Mayhap I should stir up a batch of holy water and bless Lulu.)
My finger is okay, too. Nasty burn blister, but it's all bandaged and salved, and it doesn't hurt excruciatingly much anymore, though holding a pencil is a little bit awkward and uncomfortable. Typing, too, is a bit awkward, but I can manage. Stupid ovens. The things I have to suffer for a batch of cookies, I tell ya...*grouse*
I sure know how to pick 'em, eh? I'll be getting my own domain soon, though. If I don't I'll be forced to stab myself in the eye. (I just have to work up the nerve to ask for one, and it will be forthcoming. But I hate asking for things. Hate it.) Also a new journal service, as I can't take this anymore; it's possible that the same thing happened all the other times the server went down, and my timing was good enough that I didn't have to see it happen, but when I sign in, I don't want to see "journal entry #1" at the top of the page when I've written over 200. It doesn't make me happy. So I'll back up the rest of my entries when everything gets back on line (and if they aren't there I will throw a major tizzy fit involving death, doom, destruction, and damnation, not to mention a bit of pain and suffering and harassment on the side), and then I'll move elsewhere. Everything will be okay. It will. (The basis of working magick is force of will and positive thinking; if you think it hard enough, an it harm none, it will happen. In theory. Mayhap I should stir up a batch of holy water and bless Lulu.)
My finger is okay, too. Nasty burn blister, but it's all bandaged and salved, and it doesn't hurt excruciatingly much anymore, though holding a pencil is a little bit awkward and uncomfortable. Typing, too, is a bit awkward, but I can manage. Stupid ovens. The things I have to suffer for a batch of cookies, I tell ya...*grouse*
...if it turns out that scribble has deleted my account permanently, there will be one of two things:
many, many tears, as I only had it backed up to the hundreth entry or so and some of those entries were very, very important to me;
-or-
a smiting of the highest order involving DOOM, DESTRUCTION, and MANY SHARP POINTY THINGS!!!!!!
let's hope it's the latter, eh?
....also, if that was a virus I just opened and not an email from James...see above. I seriously need to install some proper virus software. (it probably was a virus. I can't imagine James would have an aol address...but I could be wrong. I doubt it though.)
Well, enough of worrying. If scribble and my computer go kaput, I will deal. Somehow. And now, words of wisdom: DO NOT stick your hand into the oven without PUTTING ON the oven mitt. Your fingers and the BURNING, HOT, METAL walls of the oven do not get along. At all. Ice cubes, however, are your friends and will comfort you in you time of need if you have engaged in the aforementioned stupidity.
Typing left-handed from the kitchen, I'm signing off for today. At least the cookies survived, even if my finger did not.
*d'oi*
(Oh, and since I'm not going to answer email with only one hand (my wrist is starting to spasm), I'm taking shakespeare and calc h(per.4)- there's only one shakespeare class- when's your calc? and why aren't you taking 5 credits of english? should you not graduate because of this, I will shake my head very sadly and try not to bang my head against a wall or laugh too hard.)
*spasm* Enough!
many, many tears, as I only had it backed up to the hundreth entry or so and some of those entries were very, very important to me;
-or-
a smiting of the highest order involving DOOM, DESTRUCTION, and MANY SHARP POINTY THINGS!!!!!!
let's hope it's the latter, eh?
....also, if that was a virus I just opened and not an email from James...see above. I seriously need to install some proper virus software. (it probably was a virus. I can't imagine James would have an aol address...but I could be wrong. I doubt it though.)
Well, enough of worrying. If scribble and my computer go kaput, I will deal. Somehow. And now, words of wisdom: DO NOT stick your hand into the oven without PUTTING ON the oven mitt. Your fingers and the BURNING, HOT, METAL walls of the oven do not get along. At all. Ice cubes, however, are your friends and will comfort you in you time of need if you have engaged in the aforementioned stupidity.
Typing left-handed from the kitchen, I'm signing off for today. At least the cookies survived, even if my finger did not.
*d'oi*
(Oh, and since I'm not going to answer email with only one hand (my wrist is starting to spasm), I'm taking shakespeare and calc h(per.4)- there's only one shakespeare class- when's your calc? and why aren't you taking 5 credits of english? should you not graduate because of this, I will shake my head very sadly and try not to bang my head against a wall or laugh too hard.)
*spasm* Enough!
Thursday, August 22, 2002
Okay, this rambles and doesn't go anywhere and gets kind of weird in places
A little bit of DDD (the NaNoWriMo thing) babble:
I absolutely loved writing everything from Anya's point of view. I know, this is nearly a year later, but I am planning on doing the NaNo again, and I'm thinking that I really ought to finish what I started last year. Anyway.
The thing about Anya is that she's just very easy for me to write; I can relate to her easily as a character, and at the same time I was able to distance myself from her a little more than I usually do. I've gotten so used to writing characters that I've been developing for years and years that I know them almost too well- writing Anya was refreshing because I didn't know her at all. Who she was and what she was doing was as much a mystery to me as it was to anyone else. Writing in her voice was a little like hearing someone else telling me their story in my head.
Hey, I've been having conversations with myself for as long as I can remember- literally. If anybody wants to tell me I ought to be institutionalized, you're some fourteen years too late.
I liked writing Anya because she's a little different than my usual main characters- she has no knowledge of her own abilities, but as she becomes more aware of them, she doesn't want them. Anya is very much the reluctant heroine; she didn't even want to become a doctor, and she especially had no intentions of becoming a Somnist, and when Entropy showed up and told her she would have to save the world, well, Annie really just wanted to tell the little sprite to fuck off. Or she would have, but things happened to fast for her to realize that she wanted no part in the greater plan of things. Normally my characters will gladly take up their burdens and save the world; it's what they do. Annie only said yes because she was lied to and pressured into helping Entropy and Retribution. The only thing she wanted was to have Zach healthy, and to have her life return to normal.
But somehow outside forces took control of her life and in the end she was recruited to help save the world (roughly; it's a little bit more complicated than that- or so I like to think). When Zach came down with DDD, she lost the one thing in her life that was really hers- I guess I did an almost Romeo and Juliet-ish thing with them; the doomed lovers syndrome. Fate and Chaos have controlled her life from the beginning, and she only just starts to realize this when Bonhomme shows up. (I know, I didn't post that part in veradicere; it happens much later. He's a rat bastard whose dreams come true; only dreams rarely make sense, and his are typical in that respect. He's indirectly responsible for the death of over six million people because he had a dream in which a HomeShip disappeared. He woke up, it was gone.)
I suppose it's funny how I can analyze these things so much later; I wasn't thinking of the whole Fate aspect when I was writing it, but now I realize it's true.
Anyway. The thing that I really liked about Anya was that she managed to be very human; a tired, grieving, nail-biting, pottery-throwing, petty, loving, recovering human. The reason I really want to finish DDD is because I still don't know what's going to happen; when the final confrontation finally happens, Anya could follow Entropy and Retribution's plan like a good little drone, but I don't think she will. She certainly doesn't want to.
The only problem is that the section that I've written up to involves stuff from Leto's point of view, and he's a hell of a lot harder to write, especially when he angsts, which is what he does towards the end. But he does angst so very prettily, so I'll forgive him, I suppose.
A little bit of DDD (the NaNoWriMo thing) babble:
I absolutely loved writing everything from Anya's point of view. I know, this is nearly a year later, but I am planning on doing the NaNo again, and I'm thinking that I really ought to finish what I started last year. Anyway.
The thing about Anya is that she's just very easy for me to write; I can relate to her easily as a character, and at the same time I was able to distance myself from her a little more than I usually do. I've gotten so used to writing characters that I've been developing for years and years that I know them almost too well- writing Anya was refreshing because I didn't know her at all. Who she was and what she was doing was as much a mystery to me as it was to anyone else. Writing in her voice was a little like hearing someone else telling me their story in my head.
Hey, I've been having conversations with myself for as long as I can remember- literally. If anybody wants to tell me I ought to be institutionalized, you're some fourteen years too late.
I liked writing Anya because she's a little different than my usual main characters- she has no knowledge of her own abilities, but as she becomes more aware of them, she doesn't want them. Anya is very much the reluctant heroine; she didn't even want to become a doctor, and she especially had no intentions of becoming a Somnist, and when Entropy showed up and told her she would have to save the world, well, Annie really just wanted to tell the little sprite to fuck off. Or she would have, but things happened to fast for her to realize that she wanted no part in the greater plan of things. Normally my characters will gladly take up their burdens and save the world; it's what they do. Annie only said yes because she was lied to and pressured into helping Entropy and Retribution. The only thing she wanted was to have Zach healthy, and to have her life return to normal.
But somehow outside forces took control of her life and in the end she was recruited to help save the world (roughly; it's a little bit more complicated than that- or so I like to think). When Zach came down with DDD, she lost the one thing in her life that was really hers- I guess I did an almost Romeo and Juliet-ish thing with them; the doomed lovers syndrome. Fate and Chaos have controlled her life from the beginning, and she only just starts to realize this when Bonhomme shows up. (I know, I didn't post that part in veradicere; it happens much later. He's a rat bastard whose dreams come true; only dreams rarely make sense, and his are typical in that respect. He's indirectly responsible for the death of over six million people because he had a dream in which a HomeShip disappeared. He woke up, it was gone.)
I suppose it's funny how I can analyze these things so much later; I wasn't thinking of the whole Fate aspect when I was writing it, but now I realize it's true.
Anyway. The thing that I really liked about Anya was that she managed to be very human; a tired, grieving, nail-biting, pottery-throwing, petty, loving, recovering human. The reason I really want to finish DDD is because I still don't know what's going to happen; when the final confrontation finally happens, Anya could follow Entropy and Retribution's plan like a good little drone, but I don't think she will. She certainly doesn't want to.
The only problem is that the section that I've written up to involves stuff from Leto's point of view, and he's a hell of a lot harder to write, especially when he angsts, which is what he does towards the end. But he does angst so very prettily, so I'll forgive him, I suppose.
Every author has their own gimicks or personal touches that reappear over and over again in their writing; professional writers do it too, it's not just us amateurs and hobbyists and aspiring artists. It's all part of the "voice" that distinguishes one artist from another. Mercedes Lackey has the overabundance of angst in her male characters, and female characters that could break just about anyone over their knees. A friend of mine has this obsession with writing stories based around games, sick, twisted games that involve the complete and utter manipulation of all the involved characters by a mysterious narrator (him, the author). (I'm of the opinion that he ought to get help for that god-complex of his, but hey, writing never was a very sane occupation.) Shakespeare kept on poisoning his main characters. L.E. Modesitt Jr seems to love doing the 'oops, I misplaced my homeland' thing in his Recluse novels and in the Spellsong Cycle. You know, main character ends up in surroundings and situations that are radically different from their background, like Anna from Iowa ending up in Erde, the magic continent, or Nylan and Co finding themselves in Candor after their ship gets blown to pieces in space. Of course, all of his main characters have extraordinary abilities, and are considered either saviors or demons by the people; this is the exact opposite of Dennis L McKiernan, who writes the story of the Everyman caught in fantastical situations with nothing to help them but their own wits and heart. McKiernan's Everymen tend to be halflings, though, and they always receive aid from special people (like Aravan, who is, and always will be, the coolest elf ever) and prophecies and such.
What I'm trying to say is that writers tend to either get stuck in a rut, or just stick to what they enjoy and what they like to write. (This has a few disturbing implications for my friend, as his characters invariably seem to end up dead at the hands of the narrating manipulator...) I've found that my own gimick (and this might have disturbing implications as well) is to have characters with voices in their heads. Now, the two, possible three people who read this wouldn't necessarily be familiar with most of the junk I've got lying around, but I can still list quite a few people from distinct and separate stories that have one of those nagging little voices in the back of their heads that is a little bit more vocal and real than their conscience.
Oh yeah, and the voice is almost always eeevil. Not just mean, but eeevil. On occasion it isn't, but usually, my characters are fucked. So, in Boffo we have Dei, where the voice was not only eeeevil and sadistic, it was basically a personification of Evil; in Silent Sentinel we have Edrana, whose voice is the actual Seventh Sentinel, one of those Evils that was locked away to keep it from blowing up the world (she's one of my favorites, really- a complete and utter bitch, but you can't really blame her when she's got Evil stuck in her head); in Phoenix Rising there was Matt with Sylestris, who wasn't so much evil as he was an amnesiac pissy little bitch, but then, so was Matt- they deserved each other (I'm never going to fix that story, though I might like to burn it at some point *sigh*); from one of my random Sailor Moon things I had a villain who wasn't so much a villain as a tragic (very tragic) betrayer of his people- and he had the voices of all the screaming, tortured souls that died because of his betrayal in the back of his head (ironically enough, his name was Warai, which means laughter); and there was also Tybarra/Briathala, who now resides in the Garbage Story, with her two swords o' Doom and Destruction that reside in a sub-dimensional otherspace and argue in her head.
There are others, but these are what I can remember off the top of my head, and these are the ones that I've developed the most. I've also got a thing for assassins and thieves and vampires, but really, who doesn't? I blame the assassin thing entirely on Villains by Necessity by Eve Forward, the best book ever. She quotes Shakespeare for the title. (The best book ever, no really- nevermind that it probably isn't that great- it's still the best. Ever.) Naturally I've lost my copy of it. *sulk* And, also naturally, I can't find it in bookstores anymore. *double sulk* And the author has only written two books, and I haven't been able to find her second one, either. *triple sulk*
Mmm, that was pointless. Y'know what one of my other quirks is, especially in terms of Sailor Moon otaku things? Villains who are somehow related to the heroes. And people under some sort of geas to be evil, or to do evil, which sort of goes along with the first thing. Warai, for instance, was one of the Wind Princess' retainers, before the real bad guy made him think that he'd kidnapped the person Warai was in love with and his family, etc, etc, etc...so Warai was bound to the evil guy in exchange for the safety of his loved ones, blahblahblah. But I'd also keep on writing the sister of the head of the senshi as some sort of reincarnated evil goddess of some sort, or the appropriate vessel for the evil that wanted a body, or blahblahblah- and the evil cronies would kidnap her and put her in a coma and she'd be taken over by the Evil and the love of her sister or whoever would cause her to vanquish the evil, yaddayadda- I think I did that three or four times. Not that I ever finished anything; I'd just conceptualize the whole story from start to finish and see no point in writing it if I already knew what was going to happen. (The Sailor Moon thing was a phase, that's all- but it was fun. Maybe I'll go back to it when I finish Boffo.)
What I'm trying to say is that writers tend to either get stuck in a rut, or just stick to what they enjoy and what they like to write. (This has a few disturbing implications for my friend, as his characters invariably seem to end up dead at the hands of the narrating manipulator...) I've found that my own gimick (and this might have disturbing implications as well) is to have characters with voices in their heads. Now, the two, possible three people who read this wouldn't necessarily be familiar with most of the junk I've got lying around, but I can still list quite a few people from distinct and separate stories that have one of those nagging little voices in the back of their heads that is a little bit more vocal and real than their conscience.
Oh yeah, and the voice is almost always eeevil. Not just mean, but eeevil. On occasion it isn't, but usually, my characters are fucked. So, in Boffo we have Dei, where the voice was not only eeeevil and sadistic, it was basically a personification of Evil; in Silent Sentinel we have Edrana, whose voice is the actual Seventh Sentinel, one of those Evils that was locked away to keep it from blowing up the world (she's one of my favorites, really- a complete and utter bitch, but you can't really blame her when she's got Evil stuck in her head); in Phoenix Rising there was Matt with Sylestris, who wasn't so much evil as he was an amnesiac pissy little bitch, but then, so was Matt- they deserved each other (I'm never going to fix that story, though I might like to burn it at some point *sigh*); from one of my random Sailor Moon things I had a villain who wasn't so much a villain as a tragic (very tragic) betrayer of his people- and he had the voices of all the screaming, tortured souls that died because of his betrayal in the back of his head (ironically enough, his name was Warai, which means laughter); and there was also Tybarra/Briathala, who now resides in the Garbage Story, with her two swords o' Doom and Destruction that reside in a sub-dimensional otherspace and argue in her head.
There are others, but these are what I can remember off the top of my head, and these are the ones that I've developed the most. I've also got a thing for assassins and thieves and vampires, but really, who doesn't? I blame the assassin thing entirely on Villains by Necessity by Eve Forward, the best book ever. She quotes Shakespeare for the title. (The best book ever, no really- nevermind that it probably isn't that great- it's still the best. Ever.) Naturally I've lost my copy of it. *sulk* And, also naturally, I can't find it in bookstores anymore. *double sulk* And the author has only written two books, and I haven't been able to find her second one, either. *triple sulk*
Mmm, that was pointless. Y'know what one of my other quirks is, especially in terms of Sailor Moon otaku things? Villains who are somehow related to the heroes. And people under some sort of geas to be evil, or to do evil, which sort of goes along with the first thing. Warai, for instance, was one of the Wind Princess' retainers, before the real bad guy made him think that he'd kidnapped the person Warai was in love with and his family, etc, etc, etc...so Warai was bound to the evil guy in exchange for the safety of his loved ones, blahblahblah. But I'd also keep on writing the sister of the head of the senshi as some sort of reincarnated evil goddess of some sort, or the appropriate vessel for the evil that wanted a body, or blahblahblah- and the evil cronies would kidnap her and put her in a coma and she'd be taken over by the Evil and the love of her sister or whoever would cause her to vanquish the evil, yaddayadda- I think I did that three or four times. Not that I ever finished anything; I'd just conceptualize the whole story from start to finish and see no point in writing it if I already knew what was going to happen. (The Sailor Moon thing was a phase, that's all- but it was fun. Maybe I'll go back to it when I finish Boffo.)
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
*itcouldbeworseitcouldbeworseitcouldbeworseitcouldbeworseitcouldbeworse*
No, it really could. I'm not sure how, but I'm sure it could. *sigh*
I need to get to work on my Amelia costume; I won't have much time during the year because of band, and Anime Next is Oct 11-13. I'll go if I can find people to go with, though I might just go anyway, as the brother will be there. Working security. In a samurai costume. Armed with a bokuden. (I've already gone over my spelling disability. shush.) I have to go to see that, at the very least.
God damn it, why does everything have to suck so badly?
No, it really could. I'm not sure how, but I'm sure it could. *sigh*
I need to get to work on my Amelia costume; I won't have much time during the year because of band, and Anime Next is Oct 11-13. I'll go if I can find people to go with, though I might just go anyway, as the brother will be there. Working security. In a samurai costume. Armed with a bokuden. (I've already gone over my spelling disability. shush.) I have to go to see that, at the very least.
God damn it, why does everything have to suck so badly?
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
Dammit, I didn't pay a buck fifty just for scribble to not work all the time! *snarky grin* Oi!
Eh, well. Busy day, today. Very busy. There was much walking. Far more walking than there ought to have been; we walked from 31st and 7th to 82nd and 5th. And then we walked back. That's from 31st to 82nd. Both ways. You can throw things at me for being stupid, now.
But! On to the half formed ideas.
Arii Vahine
Her name is Tahitian for "Queen of Beauty" or something to that effect. It's also the title of a very small Gougain watercolor and sketch involving a reclining goddess.
Arii is arrogant, naturally; she automatically assumes that the universe will arrange itself to suit her needs, and somehow, it always does. No one questions her orders, no one even thinks of denying her anything; even the weather always seems to accomodate her, and if it should be a bright and sunny day, trees will lean over to shade her.
This does not prevent her from being an absolute and utter bitch, though. Nothing is perfect, not the weather, not her clothes, not her coworkers, not the gourmet eight dollar latte from the specialty coffee shop on the other side of town that she sent someone to get- nothing. Least of all herself. However, Arii is much less vocal with her own self-criticism, and thus everyone hates her as long as she isn't in the same room as they are. Once in her presence, it's impossible not to love her. The constant adoration isn't enough to keep Arii from having the niggling little feeling that she is unwanted and worthless. This tends to make her irritable- and when she's irritable she's a bitch and a half and things have this nasty tendency to burst into flames or crumble into ash around her.
In reality she is some sort of goddess, though at the moment I'm writing all of this off the top of my head while searching for winamp skins, so I've honestly got little to no idea what I'm talking about. The title of the painting just sounded nice, and it seemed like it would make an excellent name for someone. Kinda like Nimita, or Icarus, who may or may not end up in the same place in the end. Who knows? It's a mystery!
...Wow. I just referenced Shakespeare in Love. I feel dirty.
And...I have decided, that no matter what skin winamp pulls on "Ordinary World", it will somehow manage to make me react in a manner most angsty. Come on, that song is insanely melancholic. Melancholic, not melancholy. If I learned one thing in tenth grade English, it was that melancholic was actually a word.
And now I'm trying to figure out how I managed to use insanely and 'melancholic' in the same sentence. *scratches head* Wow. I'm just gonna...you know, stop. 'Fore I give myself a headache. (The feet? They still hurt. Oh, yeah.)
Eh, well. Busy day, today. Very busy. There was much walking. Far more walking than there ought to have been; we walked from 31st and 7th to 82nd and 5th. And then we walked back. That's from 31st to 82nd. Both ways. You can throw things at me for being stupid, now.
But! On to the half formed ideas.
Arii Vahine
Her name is Tahitian for "Queen of Beauty" or something to that effect. It's also the title of a very small Gougain watercolor and sketch involving a reclining goddess.
Arii is arrogant, naturally; she automatically assumes that the universe will arrange itself to suit her needs, and somehow, it always does. No one questions her orders, no one even thinks of denying her anything; even the weather always seems to accomodate her, and if it should be a bright and sunny day, trees will lean over to shade her.
This does not prevent her from being an absolute and utter bitch, though. Nothing is perfect, not the weather, not her clothes, not her coworkers, not the gourmet eight dollar latte from the specialty coffee shop on the other side of town that she sent someone to get- nothing. Least of all herself. However, Arii is much less vocal with her own self-criticism, and thus everyone hates her as long as she isn't in the same room as they are. Once in her presence, it's impossible not to love her. The constant adoration isn't enough to keep Arii from having the niggling little feeling that she is unwanted and worthless. This tends to make her irritable- and when she's irritable she's a bitch and a half and things have this nasty tendency to burst into flames or crumble into ash around her.
In reality she is some sort of goddess, though at the moment I'm writing all of this off the top of my head while searching for winamp skins, so I've honestly got little to no idea what I'm talking about. The title of the painting just sounded nice, and it seemed like it would make an excellent name for someone. Kinda like Nimita, or Icarus, who may or may not end up in the same place in the end. Who knows? It's a mystery!
...Wow. I just referenced Shakespeare in Love. I feel dirty.
And...I have decided, that no matter what skin winamp pulls on "Ordinary World", it will somehow manage to make me react in a manner most angsty. Come on, that song is insanely melancholic. Melancholic, not melancholy. If I learned one thing in tenth grade English, it was that melancholic was actually a word.
And now I'm trying to figure out how I managed to use insanely and 'melancholic' in the same sentence. *scratches head* Wow. I'm just gonna...you know, stop. 'Fore I give myself a headache. (The feet? They still hurt. Oh, yeah.)
Monday, August 19, 2002
I'm in the mood to make cookies. I'm eating some right now, you know. Packaged ones, perfectly round and maple sugar scented, with just a hint of espresso behind the sweetness to temper it. The smell and taste of hot coffee on a wintery March morning in Vermont, before the snows have melted, before you're truly awake. Sleepy, sweet, and sharp; the taste of snow and waffles and wood smoke.
Oh, how I wish it could snow. But even when winter comes, we won't get more than a dusting of it; I have my doubts that this drought will ever end. (Though I think the true source of my longing stems from an inexplicable, childish impatience for Christmas. At heart, and frequently at mind as well, I'm nothing more than a highly excitable three year old.)
Oh, how I wish it could snow. But even when winter comes, we won't get more than a dusting of it; I have my doubts that this drought will ever end. (Though I think the true source of my longing stems from an inexplicable, childish impatience for Christmas. At heart, and frequently at mind as well, I'm nothing more than a highly excitable three year old.)
Saturday, August 17, 2002
Hey baby
why don't you
validate my existence for a while?
Just lose
yourself to
my hypertextual smile.
It's not real it's just
your imagination
it's not real it's just
an image on the screen
Hey there
why not stop
and give me a little more attention
You know
I'll help you
relieve some of that tension
I'm not real but I'm still waiting
for your imagination
I'm not real but what's it matter when you
just don't give a damn
Come on and validate my existence
It's power at your fingertips
You've just gotta say the word
Maybe I'll be real after all
why don't you
validate my existence for a while?
Just lose
yourself to
my hypertextual smile.
It's not real it's just
your imagination
it's not real it's just
an image on the screen
Hey there
why not stop
and give me a little more attention
You know
I'll help you
relieve some of that tension
I'm not real but I'm still waiting
for your imagination
I'm not real but what's it matter when you
just don't give a damn
Come on and validate my existence
It's power at your fingertips
You've just gotta say the word
Maybe I'll be real after all
Friday, August 16, 2002
I'm lyin' here on the floor where you left me
I think I took too much
I'm crying here, what have you done?
I thought it would be fun
I can't stay on your life support,
There's a shortage in the switch,
I can't stay on your morphine,
Cuz its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again
But she's being a little bitch,
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
I haven't moved from the spot where you left me
This must be a bad trip
All of the other pills, they were different
Maybe I should get some help
I can't stay on your life support,
There's a shortage in the switch,
I can't stay on your morphine,
Cuz its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again
But she's being a little bitch,
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
I can't stay on your life support, there's a
shortage in the switch,
I can't stay on your morphine,
cuz its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again
but she's being a little bitch,
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
-"Just Like a Pill" Pink
Okay, so it's probably been over played on VH1 (I'm a VH1 addict, by the way...) and MTV, but I haven't been watching tv much anyway, and my radio station hasn't played it at all, which annoys me a little bit, but not much. My radio station also doesn't play Dirty Vegas enough, or Little Less Conversation (must. download. now.), but it's still better than any of the other crap on the airwavs...Anyway, I like this song. I like the video, though I'm not sure I quite get the rabbit scene.
By the way, I'm feeling better- still like there's something caught in my throat (I could segue into another memory, but I really think I've done enough of that for today), but less like I'm gonna curl up and go blaaaaaaarrrrg all over something. p.p that'd, like, suck.
I think I took too much
I'm crying here, what have you done?
I thought it would be fun
I can't stay on your life support,
There's a shortage in the switch,
I can't stay on your morphine,
Cuz its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again
But she's being a little bitch,
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
I haven't moved from the spot where you left me
This must be a bad trip
All of the other pills, they were different
Maybe I should get some help
I can't stay on your life support,
There's a shortage in the switch,
I can't stay on your morphine,
Cuz its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again
But she's being a little bitch,
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
I can't stay on your life support, there's a
shortage in the switch,
I can't stay on your morphine,
cuz its making me itch
I said I tried to call the nurse again
but she's being a little bitch,
I think I'll get outta here, where I can
Run just as fast as I can
To the middle of nowhere
To the middle of my frustrated fears
And I swear you're just like a pill
Instead of makin' me better,
You keep makin' me ill
You keep makin' me ill
-"Just Like a Pill" Pink
Okay, so it's probably been over played on VH1 (I'm a VH1 addict, by the way...) and MTV, but I haven't been watching tv much anyway, and my radio station hasn't played it at all, which annoys me a little bit, but not much. My radio station also doesn't play Dirty Vegas enough, or Little Less Conversation (must. download. now.), but it's still better than any of the other crap on the airwavs...Anyway, I like this song. I like the video, though I'm not sure I quite get the rabbit scene.
By the way, I'm feeling better- still like there's something caught in my throat (I could segue into another memory, but I really think I've done enough of that for today), but less like I'm gonna curl up and go blaaaaaaarrrrg all over something. p.p that'd, like, suck.
Aw, lookit me go! I'm being all dramatic and angsty and only semi-coherent! Rar!
Mein Gott, my brain has turned to garlic mashed potatoes! The next thing you know I'll be painting my face black and adorning myself with black lacy prayer veils, and I'll only reply in gothic Latin!
Pie Iesu domine, donna eis requiem...
Iesu, indeed. I'm so dysfunctional sometimes it isn't even funny. Only it is. *snort* Oi. I can't even do staring-off-into-the-distance-forlornly-with-angst properly. Damn my reasonably content upper-middle class white child of suburbia self!
Seriously, and I know I've said it before, but it does bear repeating- there is nothing wrong with me that repeated application of a board to the back of my head would not cure. Honest.
Mein Gott, my brain has turned to garlic mashed potatoes! The next thing you know I'll be painting my face black and adorning myself with black lacy prayer veils, and I'll only reply in gothic Latin!
Pie Iesu domine, donna eis requiem...
Iesu, indeed. I'm so dysfunctional sometimes it isn't even funny. Only it is. *snort* Oi. I can't even do staring-off-into-the-distance-forlornly-with-angst properly. Damn my reasonably content upper-middle class white child of suburbia self!
Seriously, and I know I've said it before, but it does bear repeating- there is nothing wrong with me that repeated application of a board to the back of my head would not cure. Honest.
Sometimes I wonder why I bother- with this, with the webpage, with everything. Not often, but sometimes. I do realize that half my problem is that I don't try hard enough, though that has always been true for me, of everything.
I may say that I would still do all this if no one read it, but I do wonder if that is truly true. If my loyal fans (both of you *smile*) were to abandon me, what would I do?
Sometimes (more often than not), I wonder if I don't try anymore because I did try, in the past, and always failed (it hurts to be ignored, it hurts so much sometimes that you just don't know what to do but turn your face the other way and pretend it never happened). Did I stop speaking because no one ever answered, or did no one ever answer because I never said anything?
I tried raising butterflies, once. My best friend had ordered caterpillars, and I used to watch as they crawled around in the little plastic cup, wondering in the back of my mind how exactly they would grow wings. Oh, of course I knew the whole metamorphosis spiel- and I didn't question it. It's only now, looking back, that I question, and wonder. After my friend's butterflies emerged from their cocoons and fluttered around and died, I asked for some of my own. Little brown-green caterpillars, creeping over mounds of dirt in a little plastic cup.
Butterfly cocoons, however full of the magical potential of life and all that crap, are still fundamentally boring objects. They hang there. Maybe they swing back and forth when you take the lid of the cup and move it into the mesh butterfly dome, but that's about it. When the butterflies finally emerged, I would reach my hand into the dome and they would sit on my fingers and stick out their long, curling tongues. Butterfly kisses? Nah. I think they were just hungry and confused. They tickled, though.
One day I didn't close up the dome all the way when I'd taken out some of my butterflies- unlike the dozens of fish that I'd had, I never named them. Or, if I did, I can't remember anymore. The next morning, there were only two of my five butterflies left in the dome- the rest had escaped, into my room, into the house, into the aether- maybe a week later I found one of them, clinging to the blinds. I put it back in the dome. I found the others, too, though I really only clearly remember that one, standing sidways on the blinds. It must have stared out the window at the sunlight- and I put it back in it's white mesh dome. One of the others was found under my dresser, in the dust, I think.
When they all began to die and turn into little painted lady butterfly corpses, my friend's mother told me that I'd have to pin them quickly, or else they'd close up on themselves. I didn't pin them, but I kept two or three of the bodies. I'm not sure why- I gave one of them to my cousin, when she came to visit. The others were swept away in the trash by my mom, when she came to clean my room one day. Bunches of butterfly corpses, curled in on themselves, swept away in the trash.
I may say that I would still do all this if no one read it, but I do wonder if that is truly true. If my loyal fans (both of you *smile*) were to abandon me, what would I do?
Sometimes (more often than not), I wonder if I don't try anymore because I did try, in the past, and always failed (it hurts to be ignored, it hurts so much sometimes that you just don't know what to do but turn your face the other way and pretend it never happened). Did I stop speaking because no one ever answered, or did no one ever answer because I never said anything?
I tried raising butterflies, once. My best friend had ordered caterpillars, and I used to watch as they crawled around in the little plastic cup, wondering in the back of my mind how exactly they would grow wings. Oh, of course I knew the whole metamorphosis spiel- and I didn't question it. It's only now, looking back, that I question, and wonder. After my friend's butterflies emerged from their cocoons and fluttered around and died, I asked for some of my own. Little brown-green caterpillars, creeping over mounds of dirt in a little plastic cup.
Butterfly cocoons, however full of the magical potential of life and all that crap, are still fundamentally boring objects. They hang there. Maybe they swing back and forth when you take the lid of the cup and move it into the mesh butterfly dome, but that's about it. When the butterflies finally emerged, I would reach my hand into the dome and they would sit on my fingers and stick out their long, curling tongues. Butterfly kisses? Nah. I think they were just hungry and confused. They tickled, though.
One day I didn't close up the dome all the way when I'd taken out some of my butterflies- unlike the dozens of fish that I'd had, I never named them. Or, if I did, I can't remember anymore. The next morning, there were only two of my five butterflies left in the dome- the rest had escaped, into my room, into the house, into the aether- maybe a week later I found one of them, clinging to the blinds. I put it back in the dome. I found the others, too, though I really only clearly remember that one, standing sidways on the blinds. It must have stared out the window at the sunlight- and I put it back in it's white mesh dome. One of the others was found under my dresser, in the dust, I think.
When they all began to die and turn into little painted lady butterfly corpses, my friend's mother told me that I'd have to pin them quickly, or else they'd close up on themselves. I didn't pin them, but I kept two or three of the bodies. I'm not sure why- I gave one of them to my cousin, when she came to visit. The others were swept away in the trash by my mom, when she came to clean my room one day. Bunches of butterfly corpses, curled in on themselves, swept away in the trash.
i did a lot of arting things last night- i dug my new tria black marker out of my purse and messed around with it. even on cardstock it bleeds a little, but it's not too bad; i'll stick to my cheap pentel rsvp pens for most inking, i suppose. but i was using the really fine tip and muttering over the fact that it had only a really tiny fine line and a big clunky thick line (double ended markers really do kick ass, you know) when i stuck the fine tip cap on and pulled it off- and there was a medium line tip there! it's got three different tips! *laughs like a madwoman and falls over* i spent the next ten minutes pulling off the cap and putting it back on and pulling it off to stare at the different line widths. oh, i am easily amused.
mom wishes to get me art classes now so i can "draw the rest of the bodies for all those little heads". thusfar all my instruction has come from online tutorials and the how to draw manga books that kev gave me when i got back from bryn. and my art 1 class freshman year, but that just taught me tolerance and to fear teachers who climb on desks and how to make tempera paint act like watercolors. oh, and how to tell the difference between dali and magritte. i'm a die hard magritte fan, myself. (what am i talking about? i'm not a die hard -anything-) excuse me as i act like a pretentious elitist. ...okay, i'm done for the time being.
i really wish i had the software for the scanner- i drew a poster type thing for boffo, with all the major characters and their respective psychotic family members. i drew the best picture of Dei that i've ever drawn. and i drew him without a shirt and with his ponytail, too. i have trouble with ponytails on guys normally. and with having guys look at all masculine, which normally isn't a problem, but it can be annoying at times. (having an anatomy book not three feet away from you while doing these things is indescribably helpful- lets hear it for the discount racks at barnes and nobel!) also drew fanart- of an actual anime! -gasp- i couldn't help it; i've been on such a yuyu hakusho kick lately, and the picture turned out surprisingly well. i have a hard time with characters that aren't my own. it's a picture of hiei and kurama, naturally. kurama's face came out looking retarded, but hiei looks great- and he's giving kurama one of those deep, meaningful stares. -giggle- i couldn't help it. i used my new marker to color hiei's hair- it looks all shiny and black and very hiei like. (he's just so easy to draw- hair, headband, eyes, scarf. boom. done. give it a sulky expression, and no one will mistake it for anyone else. kurama, on the other hand, is a bitch. to draw, i mean. -coughgrin-)
this weekend while i'm at the shore i think i'll work on some strip concepts for i.q. because roy suddenly got herself a boyfriend (maybe he's just a boy friend, but with her, it's really hard to tell) by the name of jack. and roy's best friend still goes by the name of jack. and both of them are now crazier than she is, and they occasionally live in roy's basement. (the shenannigans that go on in my head never cease to amaze me.)
...i am contemplating joining the soulbonding board, since it is there, and it might be fun. alas, i am still shy. and retarded. -drools- and my last experience on a message board was not a happy one (years ago though it was).
-fumbles around for the right word- -deliberates!-
...no, that's not it. -hems- -haws- -hems some more, until pants are shorter than they ought to be- d'oh.
yes, i'm still boycotting the shift key for use of capitals and anything other than parenthesis and ! points. bwar.
(in otherwords, i'm quite relaxed and at one with the world. even if i do keep confusing this keyboard with the norwegian one and am hitting the wrong numbers for the parenthesis. hn.)
-stretches- -flies-
mom wishes to get me art classes now so i can "draw the rest of the bodies for all those little heads". thusfar all my instruction has come from online tutorials and the how to draw manga books that kev gave me when i got back from bryn. and my art 1 class freshman year, but that just taught me tolerance and to fear teachers who climb on desks and how to make tempera paint act like watercolors. oh, and how to tell the difference between dali and magritte. i'm a die hard magritte fan, myself. (what am i talking about? i'm not a die hard -anything-) excuse me as i act like a pretentious elitist. ...okay, i'm done for the time being.
i really wish i had the software for the scanner- i drew a poster type thing for boffo, with all the major characters and their respective psychotic family members. i drew the best picture of Dei that i've ever drawn. and i drew him without a shirt and with his ponytail, too. i have trouble with ponytails on guys normally. and with having guys look at all masculine, which normally isn't a problem, but it can be annoying at times. (having an anatomy book not three feet away from you while doing these things is indescribably helpful- lets hear it for the discount racks at barnes and nobel!) also drew fanart- of an actual anime! -gasp- i couldn't help it; i've been on such a yuyu hakusho kick lately, and the picture turned out surprisingly well. i have a hard time with characters that aren't my own. it's a picture of hiei and kurama, naturally. kurama's face came out looking retarded, but hiei looks great- and he's giving kurama one of those deep, meaningful stares. -giggle- i couldn't help it. i used my new marker to color hiei's hair- it looks all shiny and black and very hiei like. (he's just so easy to draw- hair, headband, eyes, scarf. boom. done. give it a sulky expression, and no one will mistake it for anyone else. kurama, on the other hand, is a bitch. to draw, i mean. -coughgrin-)
this weekend while i'm at the shore i think i'll work on some strip concepts for i.q. because roy suddenly got herself a boyfriend (maybe he's just a boy friend, but with her, it's really hard to tell) by the name of jack. and roy's best friend still goes by the name of jack. and both of them are now crazier than she is, and they occasionally live in roy's basement. (the shenannigans that go on in my head never cease to amaze me.)
...i am contemplating joining the soulbonding board, since it is there, and it might be fun. alas, i am still shy. and retarded. -drools- and my last experience on a message board was not a happy one (years ago though it was).
-fumbles around for the right word- -deliberates!-
...no, that's not it. -hems- -haws- -hems some more, until pants are shorter than they ought to be- d'oh.
yes, i'm still boycotting the shift key for use of capitals and anything other than parenthesis and ! points. bwar.
(in otherwords, i'm quite relaxed and at one with the world. even if i do keep confusing this keyboard with the norwegian one and am hitting the wrong numbers for the parenthesis. hn.)
-stretches- -flies-
i just wrote a very long post, without many capital letters, about my day, since scribble is acting up. but then i decided that, no, i do not want to post this here. so i did not.
i bought books today. this makes me happy. if i start spouting random bits of latin, it's because i'm reading How to insult, abuse, and insinuate in classical latin. fun.
fourth grade also stalked me at a bakery today. i am deeply traumatized. (seeing my normal school teachers was bad enough, but sunday school, too?! that's a little bit much.)
uh...luna sea kicks ass, all three songs that i've downloaded. i'm gonna learn all the words someday, you know. then when i go to anime cons i'll be able to karaoke with the rest of the freaks. yessss. (never mind that most of the melody for gravity, aurora, or storm is way below my range. hushup.)
i bought books today. this makes me happy. if i start spouting random bits of latin, it's because i'm reading How to insult, abuse, and insinuate in classical latin. fun.
fourth grade also stalked me at a bakery today. i am deeply traumatized. (seeing my normal school teachers was bad enough, but sunday school, too?! that's a little bit much.)
uh...luna sea kicks ass, all three songs that i've downloaded. i'm gonna learn all the words someday, you know. then when i go to anime cons i'll be able to karaoke with the rest of the freaks. yessss. (never mind that most of the melody for gravity, aurora, or storm is way below my range. hushup.)
0.o
Have you ever had an online staring contest? Ridiculous fun, they are. Betcha I can outstare any of y'all. (this is assuming that people read this, and I know that people do. I'm just wondering how many- beyond those that I'm sure about. Not that this'll necessarily get a response or anything, but...i'm being silly. hushup.)
0.0
(i'm watching you...0.0)
0-0 look, i put on glasses. now i can't see. -.- *squinty* (gosh, its so annoying, having 20/20 vision! *gloats like a bitch*)
^_^ they're still open! just happy/silly squinty now. because that's the sort of mood i'm in. aside from the whole sick-feeling thing, that is. |:o~ blaaaaarg.
(this is vera getting way too creative with her smilies. be afraid.)
0.0
(specially since she's still watching you. and writing in third person. be _very_ afraid.)
@.@ f e a r m e (those are concentric hypnotic circles, if you were wondering.)
^_^ o.0 and what're *you* lookin' at?
...oh. me. that's right. well- right back atcha!
0.0
tee hee, says the girl, tee hee.
0.0
Have you ever had an online staring contest? Ridiculous fun, they are. Betcha I can outstare any of y'all. (this is assuming that people read this, and I know that people do. I'm just wondering how many- beyond those that I'm sure about. Not that this'll necessarily get a response or anything, but...i'm being silly. hushup.)
0.0
(i'm watching you...0.0)
0-0 look, i put on glasses. now i can't see. -.- *squinty* (gosh, its so annoying, having 20/20 vision! *gloats like a bitch*)
^_^ they're still open! just happy/silly squinty now. because that's the sort of mood i'm in. aside from the whole sick-feeling thing, that is. |:o~ blaaaaarg.
(this is vera getting way too creative with her smilies. be afraid.)
0.0
(specially since she's still watching you. and writing in third person. be _very_ afraid.)
@.@ f e a r m e (those are concentric hypnotic circles, if you were wondering.)
^_^ o.0 and what're *you* lookin' at?
...oh. me. that's right. well- right back atcha!
0.0
tee hee, says the girl, tee hee.
0.0
Heh. Last year, around March or February, I think (I remember writing about it in my diary that I kept for my shrink, that's how I know it was around then- I didn't write any more for him after early March, and I stopped seeing him mid-march, I think...wait. not going to think about that now. don't want to, don't need to. duly noted, moving on.) I went around asking everyone in school if they were sick, especially if the had the flu, and if they did, would they please cough on me? I just really, really wanted to be violently ill. Or at least horribly weak and achy and unable to move kind of ill, if not violently. I'd prefer the weak and achy kind; I really don't like violence.
See, I hadn't been sick, seriously stay-home-and-stare-at-the-ceiling-and-hope-the-jedi-mind-powers-can-get-you-a-glass-of-water sick, since November of eighth grade (Between the 18th and the 22nd, I believe. I missed Ms Baney's birthday party, to which I had promised to bring cookies. Yes, I have a freakish memory. The time before then that I was horribly sick was winter of 7th grade, end of January/start of February. I ate many lemon drops then, and I had a broken thumb. i really like lemon drops. moving on.) when I ran across the school in the middle of history to curse the fact that the nurse was always on lunch break when I wasn't feeling well. Then I ran to the office, was interrogated by the vice principal, and puked in the faculty toilet. I had to be escorted while running, of course; I evidently looked about ready to keel over. 102 fever. Now, why, you may ask, was I wanting to undergo all that misery and fuss and vomitting-of-oatmeal-and-ice-tea so desperately?
I'm still not sure. There's something about being so utterly weak and helpless that's rather transcendental in a self-flaggelating, fasting-for-enlightenment-and-to-emulate-Christ sort of way. But I've never had so high a fever that I've hallucinated, and I've never fainted before, and I have a very strong stomach, though I do get nauseous when viewing graphic car accidents. (Fucking drunk-driving awareness videos. They could've warned us, at least.) So it's not that I get high on cough syrup or on the fever and start seeing pretty colors- there is that added bonus of missing school, though. For the longest time I just wasn't allowed to unless I was so horribly sick that I couldn't move, or that I was so horribly bitchy about it that I couldn't be made to move. (Surprisingly enough, I've never had cramps so bad that I've stayed home- my body has a lovely sense of timing, always saving the gut wrenching, let-me-curl-into-a-ball-now-and-die kind of pain until I get home from school. Grr.) Of course, now my parents no longer care quite as much if I go to school- senior year and all that. (I'm such a pushover, you've no idea. And I'm completely dependent upon other people for things, to the point where I won't question any reasoning adult's decision. Pathetic, actually.)
Regardless, I think it's mostly that I've forgotten how miserable it makes me, and I am, on some very narrow and well hidden level, something of a masochist. Being sick is different from other kinds of pain, though- it isn't precisely pain, it's weakness and misery, and that's different. I don't like pain. Misery, both physical and emotional, I seem to wallow in. Like a pig. But that's beside the point. The real reason is probably that I'm not expected to do anything when I'm sick- I don't have to clean my room or empty the dishwasher or anything annoying like that, and I can just lie in bed and ring a bell for my mom to come running with a glass of water. That's power, you know. The downside, however, is that abuse of this priveledge will result in much misery of the angry parental sort. And that's not fun misery at all. But I enjoy doing nothing, you know. I enjoy it a lot- and when I'm sick, it's like a real vacation from everything- I don't have to do anything, because I can't, and people understand that.
When I went on my "Cough on me, please, someone, anyone, make me sick!" tirade, my parents got wind of it, and they let me stay home from school for a mental health day. *snerk* I was still expected to do laundry, though. *shrug* What can you do?
Hm, still feels like I've got something large and irregularly shaped stuck in my throat, right at the base. Stomach feels rather less than happy, too. Nnnnnnn. >_< I don't wanna be sick now; that won't do me any good. Blaaaaarg.
See, I hadn't been sick, seriously stay-home-and-stare-at-the-ceiling-and-hope-the-jedi-mind-powers-can-get-you-a-glass-of-water sick, since November of eighth grade (Between the 18th and the 22nd, I believe. I missed Ms Baney's birthday party, to which I had promised to bring cookies. Yes, I have a freakish memory. The time before then that I was horribly sick was winter of 7th grade, end of January/start of February. I ate many lemon drops then, and I had a broken thumb. i really like lemon drops. moving on.) when I ran across the school in the middle of history to curse the fact that the nurse was always on lunch break when I wasn't feeling well. Then I ran to the office, was interrogated by the vice principal, and puked in the faculty toilet. I had to be escorted while running, of course; I evidently looked about ready to keel over. 102 fever. Now, why, you may ask, was I wanting to undergo all that misery and fuss and vomitting-of-oatmeal-and-ice-tea so desperately?
I'm still not sure. There's something about being so utterly weak and helpless that's rather transcendental in a self-flaggelating, fasting-for-enlightenment-and-to-emulate-Christ sort of way. But I've never had so high a fever that I've hallucinated, and I've never fainted before, and I have a very strong stomach, though I do get nauseous when viewing graphic car accidents. (Fucking drunk-driving awareness videos. They could've warned us, at least.) So it's not that I get high on cough syrup or on the fever and start seeing pretty colors- there is that added bonus of missing school, though. For the longest time I just wasn't allowed to unless I was so horribly sick that I couldn't move, or that I was so horribly bitchy about it that I couldn't be made to move. (Surprisingly enough, I've never had cramps so bad that I've stayed home- my body has a lovely sense of timing, always saving the gut wrenching, let-me-curl-into-a-ball-now-and-die kind of pain until I get home from school. Grr.) Of course, now my parents no longer care quite as much if I go to school- senior year and all that. (I'm such a pushover, you've no idea. And I'm completely dependent upon other people for things, to the point where I won't question any reasoning adult's decision. Pathetic, actually.)
Regardless, I think it's mostly that I've forgotten how miserable it makes me, and I am, on some very narrow and well hidden level, something of a masochist. Being sick is different from other kinds of pain, though- it isn't precisely pain, it's weakness and misery, and that's different. I don't like pain. Misery, both physical and emotional, I seem to wallow in. Like a pig. But that's beside the point. The real reason is probably that I'm not expected to do anything when I'm sick- I don't have to clean my room or empty the dishwasher or anything annoying like that, and I can just lie in bed and ring a bell for my mom to come running with a glass of water. That's power, you know. The downside, however, is that abuse of this priveledge will result in much misery of the angry parental sort. And that's not fun misery at all. But I enjoy doing nothing, you know. I enjoy it a lot- and when I'm sick, it's like a real vacation from everything- I don't have to do anything, because I can't, and people understand that.
When I went on my "Cough on me, please, someone, anyone, make me sick!" tirade, my parents got wind of it, and they let me stay home from school for a mental health day. *snerk* I was still expected to do laundry, though. *shrug* What can you do?
Hm, still feels like I've got something large and irregularly shaped stuck in my throat, right at the base. Stomach feels rather less than happy, too. Nnnnnnn. >_< I don't wanna be sick now; that won't do me any good. Blaaaaarg.
Thursday, August 15, 2002
...Umbrellas. I think I'm going to get myself an umbrella, and do something horrible to it. I'll turn it into an evil umbrella of DOOM, yes, that's what I'll do.
Soviet spies used to have umbrellas that would launch soy pellets when opened a certain way; highly poisonous, virtually untraceable, a person hit with them would be dead within an hour, I believe. Now that's an umbrella of doom, yes indeedy it is.
Sorry, that was random.
Soviet spies used to have umbrellas that would launch soy pellets when opened a certain way; highly poisonous, virtually untraceable, a person hit with them would be dead within an hour, I believe. Now that's an umbrella of doom, yes indeedy it is.
Sorry, that was random.
Sometimes the fluidity of words escapes me, slipping through my fingers like water, or air. Words, grasped at desperately, but gone in an instant, leave me to flounder with ungainly limbs through a sea of my own undoing.
In other words, sometimes it's just better to draw a couple of stick figures strangling each other. It gets the idea across just as well. *snort*
------------
"If wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea, you know." The old man's eyes crinkled around the corners as he said this, a smile stretching his drooping mouth upwards.
Nimita cocked her head to the side, feeling rather confused. "Hey, old man- what's a 'sea'?"
He sighed and shook his head. "Oi, vey! Girl, haven't you read your histories?"
She shrugged. "Don't know how to read. No one ever taught me. I've been living up a Tower all my life- they aren't big on education, but they are big on sedatives."
He groaned, and muttered, "You've got to be kidding me. Water, girl- you do know what water is, right?"
"Of course! It's..." she trailed off and bit her lip, then brightened. "It's the stuff the clouds used to be made of! And they would ration it at the Tower, for drinking."
"Yeah, that stuff." The old man smiled again. "A sea is a huge body of water, miles across, and very deep. You could move around in it and sail boats on it and such."
Nimita nodded in understanding. "I get it- but, old man- I've got another question."
He smiled again, crinkly and stretchy. "Yes, my girl?"
"What's a fish?"
--------------
-or-
--------------
"Well, you know what they say- if wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea," Hunter exclaimed optimistically. Nenia and Rethen stared at the rent-boy turned theif blankly for a very long minute. Then they both began speaking at once.
"Who says that?"
"Why on earth would you walk on the sea-"
"I don't need fish to help with that-"
"You can swim in it just fine-"
"I already know how to walk on water-"
"And that's a waste of perfectly good fish-"
"I am a god you know-"
"You could eat them instead of walking on them-"
"And I could grant wishes without fish to help with that either-"
"It just doesn't make sense-"
"You humans are strange," they finished in unison.
Hunter 'eeped' and stepped away. "Uh...forget I said anything, okay? Let's- let's just keep walking..."
-------------
-gad, this is fun-
-------------
"Think of it this way- if wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea," Tyler pointed out.
"Yeah, but if there were that many fish in the sea, they'd crowd each other out and die, and then you wouldn't want to walk on them, because it would just be a rotting mass of fishyness. And that may be appealing to you," Dei pointed an accusing finger at his brother, "but I would rather just take a plane if I wanted to get to Europe, like the rest of the civilized world. It's too far to walk." He lowered his hand and began biting his nails.
"That's certainly true- but you've got people doing stupid things like walking on the sea because of all of these fish, Ty. And that's precisely what's wrong with the world today- rather than using all those fish to feed the hungry in third world countries, you would have people waltzing on water just because they could." Opal shook her head despairingly. "That's why the better saying is 'if wishes were fishes, served up on dishes, we'd never be hungry again.' It's more humanitarian."
"Still grammatically incorrect, though." Dei looked thoughtful. "Hey, Tyler- what were we talking about, again?"
Tyler hid his head in his hands and moaned. "Between the two of you, I just don't know anymore."
---------------
-sometimes i feel so very sorry for him...once more, then i'm done, i promise-
---------------
Blaine stared up at the ceiling in the dark. "So, what do you think? If wishes were fishes, would we really walk on the sea?"
Silverlock's eyes glowed softly as he sat up to stare at Blaine. "Ai, what do I care? Too much thinking for this hour of the night. I'd rather just have sex."
Silverlock presented such a convincing argument that Blaine didn't really see any point in refuting it- his mind was rather otherwise occupied, anyway.
-------------------
Wow, I'm in such a better mood, now. I've no idea what brought that on- Nimita is from Icarus Fire Fly, which still doesn't have any outline or idea, though apparently she lives in some sort of desert world at the top of a very tall tower. Hunter, Rethen, and Nenia are three characters that I just like to mess around with sometimes- Nenia is a mermaid of sorts, and Rethen is one of the three Creator-Gods of their world (though he's really just a kid) and Hunter is normally depressed and cynical, except when he's forcing himself to be cheerful, or when everyone else is tired and hungry and rather annoyed at him for being happy. He's contrary like that. Opal, Tyler, and Dei are from Boffo, doi. Poor Tyler. The world does gang up on him sometimes. Blaine and Silverlock are being silly and out of character, because Silver probably would have considered the question very seriously and wandered off to the library to study it. Then he would have come back and said 'let's have sex'- without actually giving Blaine an answer. Blaine wouldn't have asked such a silly question, anyway. He'd have just thought it to himself, and gone back to sleep and probably had some horrible, bloody prophetic dream because of it.
:) Silliness. Ah, that felt good.
In other words, sometimes it's just better to draw a couple of stick figures strangling each other. It gets the idea across just as well. *snort*
------------
"If wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea, you know." The old man's eyes crinkled around the corners as he said this, a smile stretching his drooping mouth upwards.
Nimita cocked her head to the side, feeling rather confused. "Hey, old man- what's a 'sea'?"
He sighed and shook his head. "Oi, vey! Girl, haven't you read your histories?"
She shrugged. "Don't know how to read. No one ever taught me. I've been living up a Tower all my life- they aren't big on education, but they are big on sedatives."
He groaned, and muttered, "You've got to be kidding me. Water, girl- you do know what water is, right?"
"Of course! It's..." she trailed off and bit her lip, then brightened. "It's the stuff the clouds used to be made of! And they would ration it at the Tower, for drinking."
"Yeah, that stuff." The old man smiled again. "A sea is a huge body of water, miles across, and very deep. You could move around in it and sail boats on it and such."
Nimita nodded in understanding. "I get it- but, old man- I've got another question."
He smiled again, crinkly and stretchy. "Yes, my girl?"
"What's a fish?"
--------------
-or-
--------------
"Well, you know what they say- if wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea," Hunter exclaimed optimistically. Nenia and Rethen stared at the rent-boy turned theif blankly for a very long minute. Then they both began speaking at once.
"Who says that?"
"Why on earth would you walk on the sea-"
"I don't need fish to help with that-"
"You can swim in it just fine-"
"I already know how to walk on water-"
"And that's a waste of perfectly good fish-"
"I am a god you know-"
"You could eat them instead of walking on them-"
"And I could grant wishes without fish to help with that either-"
"It just doesn't make sense-"
"You humans are strange," they finished in unison.
Hunter 'eeped' and stepped away. "Uh...forget I said anything, okay? Let's- let's just keep walking..."
-------------
-gad, this is fun-
-------------
"Think of it this way- if wishes were fishes, we'd walk on the sea," Tyler pointed out.
"Yeah, but if there were that many fish in the sea, they'd crowd each other out and die, and then you wouldn't want to walk on them, because it would just be a rotting mass of fishyness. And that may be appealing to you," Dei pointed an accusing finger at his brother, "but I would rather just take a plane if I wanted to get to Europe, like the rest of the civilized world. It's too far to walk." He lowered his hand and began biting his nails.
"That's certainly true- but you've got people doing stupid things like walking on the sea because of all of these fish, Ty. And that's precisely what's wrong with the world today- rather than using all those fish to feed the hungry in third world countries, you would have people waltzing on water just because they could." Opal shook her head despairingly. "That's why the better saying is 'if wishes were fishes, served up on dishes, we'd never be hungry again.' It's more humanitarian."
"Still grammatically incorrect, though." Dei looked thoughtful. "Hey, Tyler- what were we talking about, again?"
Tyler hid his head in his hands and moaned. "Between the two of you, I just don't know anymore."
---------------
-sometimes i feel so very sorry for him...once more, then i'm done, i promise-
---------------
Blaine stared up at the ceiling in the dark. "So, what do you think? If wishes were fishes, would we really walk on the sea?"
Silverlock's eyes glowed softly as he sat up to stare at Blaine. "Ai, what do I care? Too much thinking for this hour of the night. I'd rather just have sex."
Silverlock presented such a convincing argument that Blaine didn't really see any point in refuting it- his mind was rather otherwise occupied, anyway.
-------------------
Wow, I'm in such a better mood, now. I've no idea what brought that on- Nimita is from Icarus Fire Fly, which still doesn't have any outline or idea, though apparently she lives in some sort of desert world at the top of a very tall tower. Hunter, Rethen, and Nenia are three characters that I just like to mess around with sometimes- Nenia is a mermaid of sorts, and Rethen is one of the three Creator-Gods of their world (though he's really just a kid) and Hunter is normally depressed and cynical, except when he's forcing himself to be cheerful, or when everyone else is tired and hungry and rather annoyed at him for being happy. He's contrary like that. Opal, Tyler, and Dei are from Boffo, doi. Poor Tyler. The world does gang up on him sometimes. Blaine and Silverlock are being silly and out of character, because Silver probably would have considered the question very seriously and wandered off to the library to study it. Then he would have come back and said 'let's have sex'- without actually giving Blaine an answer. Blaine wouldn't have asked such a silly question, anyway. He'd have just thought it to himself, and gone back to sleep and probably had some horrible, bloody prophetic dream because of it.
:) Silliness. Ah, that felt good.
I'm almost done with Into the Fire, alternatively titled "The Little People Get Laid" and "Aravan- Still the Coolest Guy Ever, Even as a Minor Character". This means that I will have to actually leave the house at some point between now and Saturday to get to a bookstore and get my Dennis L McKiernan fix before leaving for an indefinite amount of time. I suppose I could ask how long we'll be gone, but I get the feeling no one will tell me. *sigh* I think I'll spend the weekend sleeping. Mmm, sleep. Only without the crazy freaky dreams. They can be fun, but when i start dreaming that my old English teacher is an international spy trying to take over the world, it's usually best to wake up.
Though the one where I was a ghost-hunter was pretty cool- 'specially since I got to kill legions of the undead with...post-it notes. Yellow and orange ones. *cough* "Begone, foul specter!" *poik* *...FLOOOSH!!* "Wow, that's one potent post-it."
Though the one where I was a ghost-hunter was pretty cool- 'specially since I got to kill legions of the undead with...post-it notes. Yellow and orange ones. *cough* "Begone, foul specter!" *poik* *...FLOOOSH!!* "Wow, that's one potent post-it."
I was gonna sing y'all a little song, but then I decided it was too much effort. The title of it is "I Hate the World".
Still hurting like a mutha (I just love having two journal things- I get to whine twice as much!) only I can't even blame it on the fucking hormones. Still not in the mood for social contact with anyone, not even my cat (haven't seen her around since feeding time, anyway. maybe that's a good thing.) Still attempting to download Pink's "You're Just Like a Pill" just so I can play it really loud. And maybe scream along. I'm in that kind of a mood. No longer waiting for advil to kick in- I love advil. It tastes so much better than tylenol. Sadly, it's not really allowed in the house, for the same reasons butter, eggs, and steak aren't allowed either. *sigh* Head hurts now, not shoulders. Still not planning on attempting a headstand for a very long time.
*sigh* The wind is blowing outside, and the way the shadows move against the blinds in the other room looks like people walking back and forth. I'm only seeing this reflected in the corners of my computer screen, of course; the blinds are mauve, but in the reflection they look extra purple, because of the funky monitor glass. The trees are all dying, you know. They may as well be people walking back and forth in front of the windows, because they still won't get anything to drink from us.
I wish it would rain. More than that, I wish it would snow, but in the middle of August, that isn't bloody likely. So I'll hope for rain, to cool off the sidewalks and give the trees a fighting chance at surviving. Another hurricane might be nice. I enjoyed Floyd, years ago- even with the door frames all leaking and flooding the kitchen and wriggly things swimming through the backyard. hm. Maybe a hurricane without the destruction of Bound Brook and Manville. Fewer burning buildings when there's no water pressure would be nice. Maybe just a good downpour to go running around in. Supposedly we got one while I was in VA- I don't believe it. You can't tell.
Yeah. I just wish it would rain. Then maybe my head wouldn't hurt so much...*sigh*
Still hurting like a mutha (I just love having two journal things- I get to whine twice as much!) only I can't even blame it on the fucking hormones. Still not in the mood for social contact with anyone, not even my cat (haven't seen her around since feeding time, anyway. maybe that's a good thing.) Still attempting to download Pink's "You're Just Like a Pill" just so I can play it really loud. And maybe scream along. I'm in that kind of a mood. No longer waiting for advil to kick in- I love advil. It tastes so much better than tylenol. Sadly, it's not really allowed in the house, for the same reasons butter, eggs, and steak aren't allowed either. *sigh* Head hurts now, not shoulders. Still not planning on attempting a headstand for a very long time.
*sigh* The wind is blowing outside, and the way the shadows move against the blinds in the other room looks like people walking back and forth. I'm only seeing this reflected in the corners of my computer screen, of course; the blinds are mauve, but in the reflection they look extra purple, because of the funky monitor glass. The trees are all dying, you know. They may as well be people walking back and forth in front of the windows, because they still won't get anything to drink from us.
I wish it would rain. More than that, I wish it would snow, but in the middle of August, that isn't bloody likely. So I'll hope for rain, to cool off the sidewalks and give the trees a fighting chance at surviving. Another hurricane might be nice. I enjoyed Floyd, years ago- even with the door frames all leaking and flooding the kitchen and wriggly things swimming through the backyard. hm. Maybe a hurricane without the destruction of Bound Brook and Manville. Fewer burning buildings when there's no water pressure would be nice. Maybe just a good downpour to go running around in. Supposedly we got one while I was in VA- I don't believe it. You can't tell.
Yeah. I just wish it would rain. Then maybe my head wouldn't hurt so much...*sigh*
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Y'know what I love? Hitting random blogs and finding ones that are just...real. I've hit a few good ones, glittery and shiny and real life angsty and joyful, and I've kept them. Maybe it's a bit stalkerish of me- I mean, I don't know these people, but they made their blogs public, and I was bored one day, and now I keep track of them. But it's fun to see how other people pour their lives into things and then talk about it, or bitch about it, or gush about it.
I seem to have a weakness for photographers. Interesting. (Yet I have neither the patience nor the steady hands nor a portable tripod with which to pursue it as a hobby. *sigh*)
I seem to have a weakness for photographers. Interesting. (Yet I have neither the patience nor the steady hands nor a portable tripod with which to pursue it as a hobby. *sigh*)
Nero, can you see the flames?
They dance for me as they did for you
Can you hear the fiddler ply his trade
On that burning roof over there?
Does it remind you of the good old days
When you were more than just a legend?
When the fiddler played your song;
Ode to an Anti-Christ, in A minor.
Nero, can you hear the screams?
They scream for me as they did for you.
"A Prelude to our Torment, in B flat."
They sing it slightly out of tune.
This town is burning, burning down
I'm burning it to the ground.
They'll sing the songs in key this time
If they know what's good for them.
Nero, look and see me now!
I've grown too big for your footsteps.
Look- I'm Satan's favorite daughter
I'll strike fear in the heart of god.
It's my song they're singing
And those are my flames
Every one! Mine, all mine
The world is all mine.
Look and see the flames
This town is burning up
Burning down, burning, burning
I'm burning it to the ground
-------
Mmm, pyrotechnic blasphemy, ungodless hippy child of Satan that I am. *grin*
They dance for me as they did for you
Can you hear the fiddler ply his trade
On that burning roof over there?
Does it remind you of the good old days
When you were more than just a legend?
When the fiddler played your song;
Ode to an Anti-Christ, in A minor.
Nero, can you hear the screams?
They scream for me as they did for you.
"A Prelude to our Torment, in B flat."
They sing it slightly out of tune.
This town is burning, burning down
I'm burning it to the ground.
They'll sing the songs in key this time
If they know what's good for them.
Nero, look and see me now!
I've grown too big for your footsteps.
Look- I'm Satan's favorite daughter
I'll strike fear in the heart of god.
It's my song they're singing
And those are my flames
Every one! Mine, all mine
The world is all mine.
Look and see the flames
This town is burning up
Burning down, burning, burning
I'm burning it to the ground
-------
Mmm, pyrotechnic blasphemy, ungodless hippy child of Satan that I am. *grin*
Tuesday, August 13, 2002
Monday, August 12, 2002
Okay, so I can't spell, but it's not like the alphabet translates, anyway.
It's Savasana, but it's pronounced shaVASanna. Also called Mrtasana. Sava, corpse; mrta, death. It's a yoga posture, one of complete and utter relaxation; I don't think I've ever quite managed the utter relaxation part, but it certainly is the highlight of class after I've killed myself doing lunges in warrior 2. *_* Nnn. Still, I like the way it sounds, and it makes an excellent name for a character concept I've got. Don't know where she'll show up; possibly she'll make an appearance in Icarus Fire Fly (the title of the story from whence the snippet below came from), though I doubt it. Savasana- or just plain Sava.
And the first pie just came out of the oven. Mmm, pie. (I *told* you I was always baking- maybe not cookies, but something.)
It's Savasana, but it's pronounced shaVASanna. Also called Mrtasana. Sava, corpse; mrta, death. It's a yoga posture, one of complete and utter relaxation; I don't think I've ever quite managed the utter relaxation part, but it certainly is the highlight of class after I've killed myself doing lunges in warrior 2. *_* Nnn. Still, I like the way it sounds, and it makes an excellent name for a character concept I've got. Don't know where she'll show up; possibly she'll make an appearance in Icarus Fire Fly (the title of the story from whence the snippet below came from), though I doubt it. Savasana- or just plain Sava.
And the first pie just came out of the oven. Mmm, pie. (I *told* you I was always baking- maybe not cookies, but something.)
Sunday, August 11, 2002
Winamp just pulled Auron on Ordinary World. I am amused. Now I've got to practice my noisemaker. Lesson at an unholy hour, you know.
Squelching the urge for cuteness with angst, yes, that works quite well. It seems to me that in half the fics I read, all the characters problems would be sorted out if they just had cell phones...or, you know, set places of residence. *snort* I think that little, abused romantic side of me that I keep hidden away somewhere just starved to death. Someone is poking it with a stick now, and laughing.
Shavaasena- I've got a new idea to roll around in my head. *listens to the echoes* Eheh...well, they aren't very loud echoes; the dust bunnies tend to muffle things bouncing around in my empty head. *clangclangthunk* Er...
Squelching the urge for cuteness with angst, yes, that works quite well. It seems to me that in half the fics I read, all the characters problems would be sorted out if they just had cell phones...or, you know, set places of residence. *snort* I think that little, abused romantic side of me that I keep hidden away somewhere just starved to death. Someone is poking it with a stick now, and laughing.
Shavaasena- I've got a new idea to roll around in my head. *listens to the echoes* Eheh...well, they aren't very loud echoes; the dust bunnies tend to muffle things bouncing around in my empty head. *clangclangthunk* Er...
Ah! I'm feeling the urge to write something cute- have you any idea how strange that is? I mean, I don't know how to write anything cute! Sure, I may have done it in the past by accident, but to write something cute and fluffy on purpose? I can't do that! That would be...I don't know, completely out of character for me. Or something! And why would I want to write something cute, anyway? I don't understand...This strange urge that has come over me...aaaghh!
No, I'm not really panicking over this. But I don't know how to write cute. I've never really tried before. And I can't understand why I suddenly feel the urge to do so. *confused* maaaaaahhh...
No, I'm not really panicking over this. But I don't know how to write cute. I've never really tried before. And I can't understand why I suddenly feel the urge to do so. *confused* maaaaaahhh...
Saturday, August 10, 2002
Should I stop breathing
For birdsong and bird flight
And the cries of crickets weaving
Through the dead of night?
Should I silence my heart
All the better to hear
Words, falling with a lover's art
To my unsensitive ear?
It seems that I should die
And silence all the clamor
That clouds both ear and eye
From life's unending glamour.
-----------------
Damn my twitchiness. The slightest sound and I go all paranoid and freeze- s'damn annoying, it is.
For birdsong and bird flight
And the cries of crickets weaving
Through the dead of night?
Should I silence my heart
All the better to hear
Words, falling with a lover's art
To my unsensitive ear?
It seems that I should die
And silence all the clamor
That clouds both ear and eye
From life's unending glamour.
-----------------
Damn my twitchiness. The slightest sound and I go all paranoid and freeze- s'damn annoying, it is.
Thursday, August 08, 2002
Eh- that's weird. I just caught a whiff of oreganno, and I'm damned if I know where it came from. And I am suddenly, inexplicably, very hungry. Weeeerd. Pardon me as I twitch my nose in confusion.
...
*twitchtwitch* And that was definitely paint thinner. What?
Totally random thought: I want to go kayaking, while the weather is still gorgeous, and before school and band start. *sigh* I haven't gone all summer, and now that Kev's gone, I've no one to go with. *dreams of green and shade and glassy winged dragonflies on the edge of the paddle, dripping water, and fishing herons. herons fishing, without a liscence. buggers. sigh*
...
*twitchtwitch* And that was definitely paint thinner. What?
Totally random thought: I want to go kayaking, while the weather is still gorgeous, and before school and band start. *sigh* I haven't gone all summer, and now that Kev's gone, I've no one to go with. *dreams of green and shade and glassy winged dragonflies on the edge of the paddle, dripping water, and fishing herons. herons fishing, without a liscence. buggers. sigh*
"You know what, I really don't think this is such a good idea, I mean we're pretty high up and the ground is really far away and-"
"Icarus." Nimita rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. "If you're trying to say you're afraid of heights, just say it."
He tore his eyes away from the clouds that had rolled into view, obscuring the ground and gulped. "A-Afraid? Me, afraid of heights? R-ridiculous!"
She laughed and yanked him forward, onto the edge of the tower. He yelped and clung to her, causing the tower to sway crazily, seven thousand feet above the ground. "You are. Don't lie. You've got to be the only person left on this entire gods damned planet who's afraid of heights. And your name is Icarus. That's just fucking hilarious, man!"
"It's not funny!"
"The hell it isn't! Man, I've been locked up in one of these toothpicks all my life, and when you finally decide to take the bars down, you don't even wanna stand on the edge and look over! That's why you put them up, isn't it? Not to keep us safe, but so you wouldn't feel so uncomfortable!" She pushed him away and kicked at the ramparts in exhasperation. "All my life, you fucking idiot! My entire life, spent staring through a bunch of bars because you were afraid of heights!"
"Nimita-"
"No excuses this time, Icarus. I want a real answer out of you." Her glare was as hard as the ground that was so...very...far away.
He glanced down again and turned as pale as the clouds. "Can I get off the wall first?" His voice was very tiny, very afraid. She snorted, and he slid to the floor in a heap. "It was for your own good, 'Mita."
"The hell it was!" She turned on him savagely, maneuvering on the narrow stones easily, with no fear at all. "Maybe some of the others wanted to kill themselves, but none of them were even allowed up here! Why me, and why the bars?"
He looked up at her miserably. "You don't understand- we didn't know that, 'Mita, we couldn't risk it! That trick you pulled with the razors- we just couldn't risk it- we couldn't risk you."
Her jaw clenched in fury. "You honestly thought I'd kill myself? You- you really thought that?"
"We-"
"I don't want to hear about "we", Icarus. I want to hear about you. Singular. You really thought I'd do it?" She was glaring at him. "And look me in the eye when you answer me, fucker. Look me in the eye, and tell me the truth."
He looked up at her, mouth working helplessly. "I- Nimita, you don't understand-" He stopped and stared as a Fire Fly shot through the clouds behind her and lit up the horizon. The fires reflected off his eyes, but Nimita didn't waver in her gaze. "...yes. I did. Some of the others thought you were fine, but not all of us- and I was one of them."
"Fucker. I hate you." She didn't stop glaring even as she tensed and leapt backwards, off the edge of the tower.
From seven thousand feet above the ground. Icarus, heedless of his own fear, leapt to the edge with a scream tearing from his throat. "Nimita!"
"You actually thought I was ever at risk above ground! You never even bothered to get to know me, know who I was, and then you come along acting like you own me, and I'm not gonna fucking deal with it!" She was still angry, still right in his face. Only now she was on fire, ghostflames springing from her eyes and her hair and her hands. The Fire Fly had caught her; of course it wouldn't have let her fall. Icarus slumped against the tower wall, feeling awed and slightly sick.
"You...the 'Fly...how?" he breathed.
"You didn't bother to get to know me. I can't fall- not from this high up. I can only fly. You never bothered to ask." She settled down among the burning feathers of the giant creature. "Why do you think I was so important?"
"They never told me...about this."
Her eyebrown arched. "Oh? Then what did they tell you?" The Fire Fly turned it's beautiful star colored eyes towards Icarus in an accusing glare.
"...they never told me anything." Icarus crumpled in despair as she snorted her contempt and the 'Fly drifted away from the tower. She turned over her shoulder expectantly. He stared. "What?"
"Idiot. Are you coming or not?"
Icarus gulped again, and looked at the gap between the tower and the 'Fly. The ground was very far away. His limbs shook as he stood, but he closed his eyes and stepped up to the edge of the tower. His head spun, and he flailed, helplessly, and slipped-
"Fucking idiot." He landed with a soft *thump* on the Fire Fly's back, face to face with it's gleaming, faceted eyes. He got the feeling it was laughing at him. Nimita snorted again. "Let's go."
-----------------------------------
Don't ask. My newest obsession is with the Icarus myth, though...and Nimita has just revealed herself to be fairly interesting. So you may see more of this, once I figure out what's going on...
"Icarus." Nimita rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand. "If you're trying to say you're afraid of heights, just say it."
He tore his eyes away from the clouds that had rolled into view, obscuring the ground and gulped. "A-Afraid? Me, afraid of heights? R-ridiculous!"
She laughed and yanked him forward, onto the edge of the tower. He yelped and clung to her, causing the tower to sway crazily, seven thousand feet above the ground. "You are. Don't lie. You've got to be the only person left on this entire gods damned planet who's afraid of heights. And your name is Icarus. That's just fucking hilarious, man!"
"It's not funny!"
"The hell it isn't! Man, I've been locked up in one of these toothpicks all my life, and when you finally decide to take the bars down, you don't even wanna stand on the edge and look over! That's why you put them up, isn't it? Not to keep us safe, but so you wouldn't feel so uncomfortable!" She pushed him away and kicked at the ramparts in exhasperation. "All my life, you fucking idiot! My entire life, spent staring through a bunch of bars because you were afraid of heights!"
"Nimita-"
"No excuses this time, Icarus. I want a real answer out of you." Her glare was as hard as the ground that was so...very...far away.
He glanced down again and turned as pale as the clouds. "Can I get off the wall first?" His voice was very tiny, very afraid. She snorted, and he slid to the floor in a heap. "It was for your own good, 'Mita."
"The hell it was!" She turned on him savagely, maneuvering on the narrow stones easily, with no fear at all. "Maybe some of the others wanted to kill themselves, but none of them were even allowed up here! Why me, and why the bars?"
He looked up at her miserably. "You don't understand- we didn't know that, 'Mita, we couldn't risk it! That trick you pulled with the razors- we just couldn't risk it- we couldn't risk you."
Her jaw clenched in fury. "You honestly thought I'd kill myself? You- you really thought that?"
"We-"
"I don't want to hear about "we", Icarus. I want to hear about you. Singular. You really thought I'd do it?" She was glaring at him. "And look me in the eye when you answer me, fucker. Look me in the eye, and tell me the truth."
He looked up at her, mouth working helplessly. "I- Nimita, you don't understand-" He stopped and stared as a Fire Fly shot through the clouds behind her and lit up the horizon. The fires reflected off his eyes, but Nimita didn't waver in her gaze. "...yes. I did. Some of the others thought you were fine, but not all of us- and I was one of them."
"Fucker. I hate you." She didn't stop glaring even as she tensed and leapt backwards, off the edge of the tower.
From seven thousand feet above the ground. Icarus, heedless of his own fear, leapt to the edge with a scream tearing from his throat. "Nimita!"
"You actually thought I was ever at risk above ground! You never even bothered to get to know me, know who I was, and then you come along acting like you own me, and I'm not gonna fucking deal with it!" She was still angry, still right in his face. Only now she was on fire, ghostflames springing from her eyes and her hair and her hands. The Fire Fly had caught her; of course it wouldn't have let her fall. Icarus slumped against the tower wall, feeling awed and slightly sick.
"You...the 'Fly...how?" he breathed.
"You didn't bother to get to know me. I can't fall- not from this high up. I can only fly. You never bothered to ask." She settled down among the burning feathers of the giant creature. "Why do you think I was so important?"
"They never told me...about this."
Her eyebrown arched. "Oh? Then what did they tell you?" The Fire Fly turned it's beautiful star colored eyes towards Icarus in an accusing glare.
"...they never told me anything." Icarus crumpled in despair as she snorted her contempt and the 'Fly drifted away from the tower. She turned over her shoulder expectantly. He stared. "What?"
"Idiot. Are you coming or not?"
Icarus gulped again, and looked at the gap between the tower and the 'Fly. The ground was very far away. His limbs shook as he stood, but he closed his eyes and stepped up to the edge of the tower. His head spun, and he flailed, helplessly, and slipped-
"Fucking idiot." He landed with a soft *thump* on the Fire Fly's back, face to face with it's gleaming, faceted eyes. He got the feeling it was laughing at him. Nimita snorted again. "Let's go."
-----------------------------------
Don't ask. My newest obsession is with the Icarus myth, though...and Nimita has just revealed herself to be fairly interesting. So you may see more of this, once I figure out what's going on...
I'm in a rather musical mood right now- I ought to practice Ophelia. I really ought to practice the other damned noisemaker, but I dun wanna. Listening to October Project, still...such pretty music. Must copy this CD when Lulu is in a better mood.
Oh, the irony. There was nothing wrong with that computer. Nothing. But someone decided that she just _had_ to be fixed. There wasn't anything wrong with it! *wails*
Oi. I've got...a week and a half of vacation left. Excuse me while I spaz out and fall over and *twitch*.
Oh, the irony. There was nothing wrong with that computer. Nothing. But someone decided that she just _had_ to be fixed. There wasn't anything wrong with it! *wails*
Oi. I've got...a week and a half of vacation left. Excuse me while I spaz out and fall over and *twitch*.
Ngaah, I get some of the most random songs stuck in my head...Right now it's Seal's "Kiss From a Rose", but earlier it was The Angels "My Boyfriend's Back", and if you've any idea how annoying that song is, you'd hope to anything that it didn't get stuck in yourhead. If I'm not careful I'll have Duran Duran's "Ordinary World" stuck there, too. I probably wouldn't mind that too much, though. I kinda like that song. And I actually quite like "Kiss From a Rose", especially since I know now the lyrics...Rainy sky lyrics, they are. Excellent images.
ba da ba da da da ah ya ya
ba da da da ba ba ee ah
Ba ya ya ba ba de ba da da da ah ya ya
(This goes on for quite a while)
There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and,
The light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
...kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh,
The more I get of you,
Ooh...................
Stranger it feels, yeah. (L)
And now that your rose is is in bloom. (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey. (L)
(Again with the nonsense syllables)
There is so much a man can tell you,
..there....................woa...
So much he can say.
there's so much inside.
You remain,
you.......
My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby (L)
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.. yeah. (L)
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I've...
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
been.............. kissed from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
...ooh...........the..
Stranger it feels, yeah
stranger it feels, ...yeah.
Now that your rose is in bloom. (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey, (L)
I've been kissed by a rose on the grey,
...I've been.......................I've...
(This repeats for a while, too)
...And if I should fall, at all
I've been kissed by a rose (L)
...been kissed by a rose on the grey.
There is so much a man can tell you,
..there....................woa...
So much he can say.
there's so much inside.
You remain
you.......
My power, my pleasure, my pain. (L)
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah (L)
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I've...
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
been.............. kissed from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
...ooh...........the..
Stranger it feels, yeah
stranger it feels.
Now that your rose is in bloom, (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey. (L)
Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey
I've..........been kissed from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
...ooh...........the..
Stranger it feels, yeah
stranger it feels. ...yeah.
And now that your rose is in bloom (L)
aah-ee-aah...
A light hits the gloom on the grey (L)
aah-ee-aah...
ba da ba da da da ah ya ya
ba da da da ba ba ee ah
Ba ya ya ba ba de ba da da da ah ya ya
Now that your rose is in bloom, (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey. (L)
- The Seals, "Kiss From a Rose"
ba da ba da da da ah ya ya
ba da da da ba ba ee ah
Ba ya ya ba ba de ba da da da ah ya ya
(This goes on for quite a while)
There used to be a greying tower alone on the sea.
You became the light on the dark side of me.
Love remained a drug that's the high and not the pill.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and,
The light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
...kiss from a rose on the grey.
Ooh,
The more I get of you,
Ooh...................
Stranger it feels, yeah. (L)
And now that your rose is is in bloom. (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey. (L)
(Again with the nonsense syllables)
There is so much a man can tell you,
..there....................woa...
So much he can say.
there's so much inside.
You remain,
you.......
My power, my pleasure, my pain, baby (L)
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny.. yeah. (L)
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby?
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I've...
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
been.............. kissed from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
...ooh...........the..
Stranger it feels, yeah
stranger it feels, ...yeah.
Now that your rose is in bloom. (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey, (L)
I've been kissed by a rose on the grey,
...I've been.......................I've...
(This repeats for a while, too)
...And if I should fall, at all
I've been kissed by a rose (L)
...been kissed by a rose on the grey.
There is so much a man can tell you,
..there....................woa...
So much he can say.
there's so much inside.
You remain
you.......
My power, my pleasure, my pain. (L)
To me you're like a growing addiction that I can't deny, yeah (L)
Won't you tell me is that healthy, baby.
But did you know,
That when it snows,
My eyes become large and the light that you shine can be seen.
Baby,
I've...
I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey.
been.............. kissed from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
...ooh...........the..
Stranger it feels, yeah
stranger it feels.
Now that your rose is in bloom, (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey. (L)
Yes I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey
I've..........been kissed from a rose on the grey.
Ooh, the more I get of you
...ooh...........the..
Stranger it feels, yeah
stranger it feels. ...yeah.
And now that your rose is in bloom (L)
aah-ee-aah...
A light hits the gloom on the grey (L)
aah-ee-aah...
ba da ba da da da ah ya ya
ba da da da ba ba ee ah
Ba ya ya ba ba de ba da da da ah ya ya
Now that your rose is in bloom, (L)
A light hits the gloom on the grey. (L)
- The Seals, "Kiss From a Rose"
'Nother minor bit of Boffo Bable:
If it were real, and I had to cast people...
If Heath Ledger lost the accent, he'd make an excellent Tyler. And the fact that I can see Julia Stiles playing Cara or Opal either means that I don't know of enough young actresses, or I've been thinking about 10 Things I Hate About You too much. I would want Sean Connery or Patrick Stewart or Ian McKellan to play Albion. Or some sort of evil hybrid of the three of them. *_* Oooh, that's evil. If it were possible to make Sean Connery look young and have him lose the accent, he could play Karolus. And if John Cusack weren't so nice and ineffectual, he too, might make a good Karolus. Were he twenty years younger, he'd be almost perfect for Dei if he didn't always act so neurotic. (Must keep in mind that Karolus and Dei both look much younger than they are; Tyler looks much older.) Huh. For a while I thought that Adrian Brody might do for Dei, but now I realize that, no, that wouldn't work, even if I think he was the evil half of Ewan McGregor in Six Ways to Sunday. And trying to find a real life version of Dei just seems like blasphemy. Haley Joel Osment could play Lucifer as a kid- we all knew he was evil, right? As for Jance...*snort* Hayden Christiansen. (I'm gonna regret writing that, I know I am...) Just because he was such a whiny little bitch in Star Wars. Only his hair is too stupid. So, maybe Orlando Bloom. Maybe.
Okay, I've got it- Uma Thurman would be Leala, or maybe Nicole Kidman, and whoever was left over could be Cara. That would leave either Julia Stiles or that actress with the really long eastern Eurpopean last name who hasn't acted in that many things but would look the part quite well I think for Opal. I can't remember her name and I can't really remember what she looks like. Eh.
Somebody remind me why there are so many characters? When I started, there were only two. Now, there are more than two. Oh, so many more than two...
Oooh, ooh, random thought! Matt Damon and Ben Aflek could play Tyler and Dei, just for the sheer amusement factor! (Tho, if I wanted sheer amusement factor, I'd just stick Adam Sandler in some random place, and be done with it.) Damon would make a good adult Lucifer, though. (Thinks about Dogma.) Aflek could certainly be Sariel, I guess...if that particular angel ever chose a human form. Alannis Morisette would, naturally, be god, who would not be appearing in this film.
*thinks* Hm. There are too many characters that are impossible to cast- it would amuse me to no end to have Julia Roberts playing Radueriel, but I'd still never find anyone to play Dei, so the whole idea is out. T'was fun while it lasted, though...
If it were real, and I had to cast people...
If Heath Ledger lost the accent, he'd make an excellent Tyler. And the fact that I can see Julia Stiles playing Cara or Opal either means that I don't know of enough young actresses, or I've been thinking about 10 Things I Hate About You too much. I would want Sean Connery or Patrick Stewart or Ian McKellan to play Albion. Or some sort of evil hybrid of the three of them. *_* Oooh, that's evil. If it were possible to make Sean Connery look young and have him lose the accent, he could play Karolus. And if John Cusack weren't so nice and ineffectual, he too, might make a good Karolus. Were he twenty years younger, he'd be almost perfect for Dei if he didn't always act so neurotic. (Must keep in mind that Karolus and Dei both look much younger than they are; Tyler looks much older.) Huh. For a while I thought that Adrian Brody might do for Dei, but now I realize that, no, that wouldn't work, even if I think he was the evil half of Ewan McGregor in Six Ways to Sunday. And trying to find a real life version of Dei just seems like blasphemy. Haley Joel Osment could play Lucifer as a kid- we all knew he was evil, right? As for Jance...*snort* Hayden Christiansen. (I'm gonna regret writing that, I know I am...) Just because he was such a whiny little bitch in Star Wars. Only his hair is too stupid. So, maybe Orlando Bloom. Maybe.
Okay, I've got it- Uma Thurman would be Leala, or maybe Nicole Kidman, and whoever was left over could be Cara. That would leave either Julia Stiles or that actress with the really long eastern Eurpopean last name who hasn't acted in that many things but would look the part quite well I think for Opal. I can't remember her name and I can't really remember what she looks like. Eh.
Somebody remind me why there are so many characters? When I started, there were only two. Now, there are more than two. Oh, so many more than two...
Oooh, ooh, random thought! Matt Damon and Ben Aflek could play Tyler and Dei, just for the sheer amusement factor! (Tho, if I wanted sheer amusement factor, I'd just stick Adam Sandler in some random place, and be done with it.) Damon would make a good adult Lucifer, though. (Thinks about Dogma.) Aflek could certainly be Sariel, I guess...if that particular angel ever chose a human form. Alannis Morisette would, naturally, be god, who would not be appearing in this film.
*thinks* Hm. There are too many characters that are impossible to cast- it would amuse me to no end to have Julia Roberts playing Radueriel, but I'd still never find anyone to play Dei, so the whole idea is out. T'was fun while it lasted, though...
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
Have you ever gotten the urge to arch your back and stretch your shoulders and...
sprout wings and fly away? *wiggles shoulders* I suppose it's a credit to all the sleep I ought to be getting, and that I probably stretched too far today that I feel as though that were almost possible. Like I can feel wings just waiting beneath layers of skin, waiting to tear free and knock over shelves and things and bang into the walls (it's a rather crowded corner that I'm sitting in) and be free.
sprout wings and fly away? *wiggles shoulders* I suppose it's a credit to all the sleep I ought to be getting, and that I probably stretched too far today that I feel as though that were almost possible. Like I can feel wings just waiting beneath layers of skin, waiting to tear free and knock over shelves and things and bang into the walls (it's a rather crowded corner that I'm sitting in) and be free.
For all my muddy earthen soul and watery emotions, I've always wanted to be a creature of the wind. I'm a mud doll that wishes it were a bird. Or, as someone else might say...
"Whoa, Virginia! Way to make with the identity crisis!"
*chuckle* Just to be cruel, I think I'll name my first-adopted son Orlando. And then I'd name my first daughter Orlando, too. And it will amuse me to no end, and I'll force them to read the book, and they'll cry.
Right, that's it, I need more sleep. *giggle* But I could call the boy Lando a la Star Wars and I could call the girl Orla, a la Crono Cross, and- oh, dear, that would just be bad, wouldn't it? I'd better get off this train of thought before it crashes or explodes or something and Bruce Willis has to come and rescue me. Because I'd much rather have Bruce Willis rescue me than Mel Gibson- what was Shyamalan thinking? Not that I won't see Signs anyway, but I really just don't like Mel Gibson that much. (And this is just going to get me even more weird search engine queries. I mean, damn it people! You'll find no porn involving nuns around here! And I'd beat Hayden Christiansen to death with his own bleeding stump of a hand if he dared show his face on my blog! So stop looking for him!)
Boffo Babble-
You know, it did start off with the intent of being a stupid sappy romance story.
Jubal and Radueriel are probably my favorite couple, though, since Tyler and Opal are frustrating and give me a headache. There really aren't many other couples- no, wait, yes there are. Or rather, there are many relationships that could've progressed into couples had I felt like it. (I think about these things way too much.) Lessee if I can't list 'em...
Jubal/Radueriel; Tyler/Opal; Dei/Opal (it was there! For half a paragraph of one chapter, but it was there!); Cara/Jance (that's a behind the scenes thing- now, if you were reading too much into this, you'd wonder why I put Cara first; there really isn't any reason for it, but let's face it, Jance is a wuss either way and she'd still be dominant); Catenus/Leala; Catenus/Radueriel; Leala/Karolus; Karolus/Aislin (though there were so many power struggles there that I couldn't tell you who'd be dominant...); Karolus/Cara; Lucifer/Radueriel; Lilith/Lucifer; Lilith/Radueriel (this might show up as a flashback; it's not what it looks like though- you have to keep in mind the non-gender thing when dealing with 'em); Lucifer/Jubal (it's one sided on Luci's part- Jubal is actually reasonably straight *cough*.); Dei/Shade (that one just makes me shudder at the very concept, though...which is why it didn't happen.). I think that's all of them. All the important ones, at any rate.
Jubal and Radueriel have the best chance for a happy future, I suppose. Tyler and Opal- well, since they've popped up elsewhere in other snippets of stories around here, I'm doubting they'll come to a happy end. (Sometimes I just fucking hate that I'm so cynical...rarely, though.) Either that or they'll just be boring and in love, and I honestly don't care about that. Possibly the only reason I like the bard and the angel so much is the way they fit into Poe's "The Raven". If anybody in my damn story had a theme poem, it would be them. I mean, come on. I wasn't even thinking about it when I made Jubal do his polymorphing stunt, but here we have this guy, pining over his lost love, being tormented by this stupid bird over his door who keeps on reminding him that he'll never see his precious angel Lenore again.
Damn. I swear I wasn't even subconsciously thinking about it when I was writing Boffo! Gah! Regardless, Radueriel goes by the name of Lenore Von Engle when she's human, because the similarities amuse her, too. That and Lenore is much easier to say than Radueriel. Jubal acquires the last name Poe, since Lamechsson is unweildy and I don't know any other way to translate it, and there you go. I still don't really know why I like them so much. (Possibly because they're both utterly wacked in the head and Len wins the prize for most abused character ever, no really just pat her on the head. Dei's the close runner up for that award, but only because I decided not to do half the things to him that I could have done, ie the whole Dei/Shade thing. *shudder*)
Y'know what I think it is? I just have this thing about main characters- I don't usually like them. At all. Not even my own. Maybe especially my own...Hm. But I always gush over supporting characters and less major characters...dunno why.
No, this had no point. But you can tell me which couple y'all think is less annoying than the others if you like. (No, I'm not blatantly hinting anything. Why on earth would I do that?)
You know, it did start off with the intent of being a stupid sappy romance story.
Jubal and Radueriel are probably my favorite couple, though, since Tyler and Opal are frustrating and give me a headache. There really aren't many other couples- no, wait, yes there are. Or rather, there are many relationships that could've progressed into couples had I felt like it. (I think about these things way too much.) Lessee if I can't list 'em...
Jubal/Radueriel; Tyler/Opal; Dei/Opal (it was there! For half a paragraph of one chapter, but it was there!); Cara/Jance (that's a behind the scenes thing- now, if you were reading too much into this, you'd wonder why I put Cara first; there really isn't any reason for it, but let's face it, Jance is a wuss either way and she'd still be dominant); Catenus/Leala; Catenus/Radueriel; Leala/Karolus; Karolus/Aislin (though there were so many power struggles there that I couldn't tell you who'd be dominant...); Karolus/Cara; Lucifer/Radueriel; Lilith/Lucifer; Lilith/Radueriel (this might show up as a flashback; it's not what it looks like though- you have to keep in mind the non-gender thing when dealing with 'em); Lucifer/Jubal (it's one sided on Luci's part- Jubal is actually reasonably straight *cough*.); Dei/Shade (that one just makes me shudder at the very concept, though...which is why it didn't happen.). I think that's all of them. All the important ones, at any rate.
Jubal and Radueriel have the best chance for a happy future, I suppose. Tyler and Opal- well, since they've popped up elsewhere in other snippets of stories around here, I'm doubting they'll come to a happy end. (Sometimes I just fucking hate that I'm so cynical...rarely, though.) Either that or they'll just be boring and in love, and I honestly don't care about that. Possibly the only reason I like the bard and the angel so much is the way they fit into Poe's "The Raven". If anybody in my damn story had a theme poem, it would be them. I mean, come on. I wasn't even thinking about it when I made Jubal do his polymorphing stunt, but here we have this guy, pining over his lost love, being tormented by this stupid bird over his door who keeps on reminding him that he'll never see his precious angel Lenore again.
Damn. I swear I wasn't even subconsciously thinking about it when I was writing Boffo! Gah! Regardless, Radueriel goes by the name of Lenore Von Engle when she's human, because the similarities amuse her, too. That and Lenore is much easier to say than Radueriel. Jubal acquires the last name Poe, since Lamechsson is unweildy and I don't know any other way to translate it, and there you go. I still don't really know why I like them so much. (Possibly because they're both utterly wacked in the head and Len wins the prize for most abused character ever, no really just pat her on the head. Dei's the close runner up for that award, but only because I decided not to do half the things to him that I could have done, ie the whole Dei/Shade thing. *shudder*)
Y'know what I think it is? I just have this thing about main characters- I don't usually like them. At all. Not even my own. Maybe especially my own...Hm. But I always gush over supporting characters and less major characters...dunno why.
No, this had no point. But you can tell me which couple y'all think is less annoying than the others if you like. (No, I'm not blatantly hinting anything. Why on earth would I do that?)
Okay, so I lied. I didn't drop off the earth- y'know what I heard/saw/whatever the other day?
"If life didn't suck so much, we'd fall off the face of the earth."
Just something to keep in mind when things start to suck a lot. Just unglue your feet with a dose of unreality (preferably not the drug induced sort, but hey, whatever blows yer hair back (gale force winds, 90mph. otherwise, it's stuck to my skull ~_^) or somethin') and kick back and watch the stars. They all have names, you know.
And...this isn't my computer. I'm on the space- er, work station in the office, since daddy dearest left his laptop in the good old US of A while he's traipsing about the Nordic regions. *blinkblink*
I still think being a rock beneath the sea might be kinda cool, though. Aside from the whole not being able to move, see, feel, what-have-you, and the fact that I'd probably have fish shitting on me all the time, that is.
But hey, that's life,right? You sit there for a while, and if you sit still for too long, you end up covered in shit.
Ooh, silly anecdote time- and it's true, this one is. Names concealed under the carpet for anonymity.
A pregnant woman was doing the typical pregnant woman picky eater thing, and she insisted that her husband take her to this snazzy French restaurant in the DC area. Hubby, being fed up and none to patient with his sweetums, agreed despite the outrageous prices. But upon sitting down at the table and looking at the menu, the wife looked more than a little green. So she just ordered a glass of water, while her husband ordered a steak- after all, if she wasn't eating, somebody had to. The waiter simply gave her a look, you know the kind, the ones that say "Faugh, you silly peon woman!" What he actually did say to her, was "What is zee kind of water that madam would like?" Woman-with-a-baby gives him a look of her own, one that says "You think I got this fat from eating twinkies? You see the homicidal gleam in my eye?" And what she says, after listening to the waiter list bottled waters and mineral waters and the silly fizzly waters that taste like rotten lemons, with a twitch of her eyelid "Just. Get. Me. A. Glass. Of. Water. From the tap. Now." And the waiter, looking horribly offended, rears himself up into full snooty waiter mode, and says in a venemous hiss,
"Madam, fish sheet in zat water!"
That's all. I have nothing more to say right now. I think I inhaled too much nonsense at yoga- I mean, insense. Whoops. ^_^
"If life didn't suck so much, we'd fall off the face of the earth."
Just something to keep in mind when things start to suck a lot. Just unglue your feet with a dose of unreality (preferably not the drug induced sort, but hey, whatever blows yer hair back (gale force winds, 90mph. otherwise, it's stuck to my skull ~_^) or somethin') and kick back and watch the stars. They all have names, you know.
And...this isn't my computer. I'm on the space- er, work station in the office, since daddy dearest left his laptop in the good old US of A while he's traipsing about the Nordic regions. *blinkblink*
I still think being a rock beneath the sea might be kinda cool, though. Aside from the whole not being able to move, see, feel, what-have-you, and the fact that I'd probably have fish shitting on me all the time, that is.
But hey, that's life,right? You sit there for a while, and if you sit still for too long, you end up covered in shit.
Ooh, silly anecdote time- and it's true, this one is. Names concealed under the carpet for anonymity.
A pregnant woman was doing the typical pregnant woman picky eater thing, and she insisted that her husband take her to this snazzy French restaurant in the DC area. Hubby, being fed up and none to patient with his sweetums, agreed despite the outrageous prices. But upon sitting down at the table and looking at the menu, the wife looked more than a little green. So she just ordered a glass of water, while her husband ordered a steak- after all, if she wasn't eating, somebody had to. The waiter simply gave her a look, you know the kind, the ones that say "Faugh, you silly peon woman!" What he actually did say to her, was "What is zee kind of water that madam would like?" Woman-with-a-baby gives him a look of her own, one that says "You think I got this fat from eating twinkies? You see the homicidal gleam in my eye?" And what she says, after listening to the waiter list bottled waters and mineral waters and the silly fizzly waters that taste like rotten lemons, with a twitch of her eyelid "Just. Get. Me. A. Glass. Of. Water. From the tap. Now." And the waiter, looking horribly offended, rears himself up into full snooty waiter mode, and says in a venemous hiss,
"Madam, fish sheet in zat water!"
That's all. I have nothing more to say right now. I think I inhaled too much nonsense at yoga- I mean, insense. Whoops. ^_^
Monday, August 05, 2002
Fucking hell. *sighs* I'll be dropping off the face of the planet for a while, at least until things get back in order. (computer trouble at home, among other things.)
If anyone needs me...nevermind.
Oh I wish I were a rock beneath the sea...so very far away from everybody...oh I wish I were a rock beneath the sea...because then I might not feel quite so guilty...
fuck.
If anyone needs me...nevermind.
Oh I wish I were a rock beneath the sea...so very far away from everybody...oh I wish I were a rock beneath the sea...because then I might not feel quite so guilty...
fuck.
Saturday, August 03, 2002
Excuse me, but would somebody please take the cattle prod away from that guy over there? Or at the very least make him stop zapping the sheep? He's seriously freaking out the chickens.
Yeah, you. Quit that, and leave the poor sheep alone. "Jimi Hendrix, rumbling thunder." Sounds lovely, though...*sigh* No rain here, or not much. Just air conditioning turned up too high at night and down too low during the day, and digital cable. I may move down here, if only for the cable.
No, really. I watched Titan AE for the first time this morning. *drool* Heehee...Bob. And maybe the plot had holes in it like the block of Jarlesburg that was eaten for breakfast on Thursday, and maybe the animation was a bit grainy at times, and maybe it was a bit predictable, but dammit! it was amusing. I was amused. It had Nathan Lane doing Evil, and that's always a wonderful thing, and it had Jeneane Garafolo doing bitchy, and that too is also always a wonderful thing. So, maybe I'm an idiot for liking it, but I happen to think that it was very shiny and pretty and amusing. Where the animation and the graphics did match up it was nothing short of spectacular, and who didn't just go awwww!cute! in the opening scene with the kid and whatnot? It was shiny. I feel like such a delightfully ditzy dork right now. Ah, alliteration.
Alright, alright, so maybe I only liked it for the cheap ass shots of Cale, but hey, shiny comes in many forms, no?
Yeesh, I'm stopping, I'm stopping. (I suppose that it's a given that I really liked the character designs, isn't it? *innocent grin with fangs*)
(This had no point. Sorry if you were looking for one.)
Yeah, you. Quit that, and leave the poor sheep alone. "Jimi Hendrix, rumbling thunder." Sounds lovely, though...*sigh* No rain here, or not much. Just air conditioning turned up too high at night and down too low during the day, and digital cable. I may move down here, if only for the cable.
No, really. I watched Titan AE for the first time this morning. *drool* Heehee...Bob. And maybe the plot had holes in it like the block of Jarlesburg that was eaten for breakfast on Thursday, and maybe the animation was a bit grainy at times, and maybe it was a bit predictable, but dammit! it was amusing. I was amused. It had Nathan Lane doing Evil, and that's always a wonderful thing, and it had Jeneane Garafolo doing bitchy, and that too is also always a wonderful thing. So, maybe I'm an idiot for liking it, but I happen to think that it was very shiny and pretty and amusing. Where the animation and the graphics did match up it was nothing short of spectacular, and who didn't just go awwww!cute! in the opening scene with the kid and whatnot? It was shiny. I feel like such a delightfully ditzy dork right now. Ah, alliteration.
Alright, alright, so maybe I only liked it for the cheap ass shots of Cale, but hey, shiny comes in many forms, no?
Yeesh, I'm stopping, I'm stopping. (I suppose that it's a given that I really liked the character designs, isn't it? *innocent grin with fangs*)
(This had no point. Sorry if you were looking for one.)
Friday, August 02, 2002
So, I was thinkin', since I was seriously feelin' the lack of a costume at shoujocon...
For the next con I go to, I may cosplay Amelia from Slayers. The only problem with this is that I've never actually made a real costume before, and it's been years since the last time I went trick or treating at halloween...that and Amelia's costume would most likely look three different kinds of ridiculous on me. "Does this cloak make my thighs look fat?" And her outfit's all white. I hate white. (I know, I know, why would I want to cosplay her then? I'm getting to that...)
Huh. The costume's pretty simple, though- a lot less complicated than I thought. The only difficult thing might be making the cloak, as it would have to be lined somehow. and attatching it, as no picture I have found has given me a good idea of how exactly it is attatched. Magic, perhaps. I'll make do with crazy glue or lots and lots of thread. Mmm, sewing machines.
Regardless of how I may actually look in it (I know I can get my hair to do the silly upturn thing; it does that on its own now...) or how difficult it may be, it'll still be a great deal of fun. You know why? THERE WILL BE JUSTICE!!!
That an I can memorize all the mantras for the spells and threaten to Dragon Slave anyone who ticks me off. You know, my friends, the world, Lulu...
Hee. I dunno, I just realized how very well I identify with the first season Amelia...and that's kinda sad, I suppose. Eh, well. Who cares?
For the next con I go to, I may cosplay Amelia from Slayers. The only problem with this is that I've never actually made a real costume before, and it's been years since the last time I went trick or treating at halloween...that and Amelia's costume would most likely look three different kinds of ridiculous on me. "Does this cloak make my thighs look fat?" And her outfit's all white. I hate white. (I know, I know, why would I want to cosplay her then? I'm getting to that...)
Huh. The costume's pretty simple, though- a lot less complicated than I thought. The only difficult thing might be making the cloak, as it would have to be lined somehow. and attatching it, as no picture I have found has given me a good idea of how exactly it is attatched. Magic, perhaps. I'll make do with crazy glue or lots and lots of thread. Mmm, sewing machines.
Regardless of how I may actually look in it (I know I can get my hair to do the silly upturn thing; it does that on its own now...) or how difficult it may be, it'll still be a great deal of fun. You know why? THERE WILL BE JUSTICE!!!
That an I can memorize all the mantras for the spells and threaten to Dragon Slave anyone who ticks me off. You know, my friends, the world, Lulu...
Hee. I dunno, I just realized how very well I identify with the first season Amelia...and that's kinda sad, I suppose. Eh, well. Who cares?