You know, I had a very long and nonsensical post about yesterday (McCarter! Loot! Dead tragic gay playwrites of the sixties! *squeal*!) and today (Band...football...damn O...movies! Sweet Home Alabama! Cuteness and gay and Reese Witherspoon! Drunken southerners and that damn song! *giggle*) and how the culmination of the past several day's events have led me to feel quite lonely, but then the power went out and I lost it all. I was watching YYH at the time, anyway. So it didn't really matter that much.

And I was feeling sorry for myself, which I really need to avoid. I don't know if I'll go to yoga tomorrow; mumsy dearest and daddy darling are going to the shore, but I am not. I think I'll sleep in for once. (was up at 8 this morning. Watched Yugioh. Squealed. Went to band. Wept. Ain't that just the way it is?) I've determined that my general misery and sick-ishness of the past week or so was directly related to my lack of sleep. Sleep is goooood. I still don't understand insomniacs. Getting closer on the anorexic thing, but insomnia is still a concept that escapes me. (Not that I'm ever going to be close to being anorexic, mind you. I'm just starting to understand it better.)

I need to get off my lazy ass and start writing again...I think I'll write that round robin we did on the bus back from a competition freshman year...I wonder if Sonya will remember it? I feel a little guilty (all the time) about (everything) writing a story that's only one fourth mine, but if no one else wrote it...well, all's fair in art and war.

You'll have to excuse me. It's late and I'm still recovering from an excellent episode of Bebop and from finally kicking Elmdor's ass and stealing all of his clothes in Tactics. That full set of Genji armor looks so sexy on my Lancer. Mmm, there's something about a pixelized sprite in armor...Of course, now I have to kill Zarela, and that's really, really difficult when everyone is asleep and death sentenced. No matter. That's a task for another day; it's taken me several months to get that set of armor, I can wait another day to get out of that damn castle. (Two mastered thieves, one level eight theif, Beowulf as a Temple Knight with Excalibur and throw item, Orlandu as himself and able to lightning stab. Take out Celia and Lede first; Beowulf can put them to sleep or can don't act them while Cid lightning stabs them. If they stop bracelet Beo-beo, bring him back with a phoenix down and have him Shock! them. Fry the bitches first, then chicken the Marquis. Twice. It's so much easier to steal from someone with no brave. *evil laughter* Nevermind that Beowulf has only 45 brave and 62 faith. With Chicken and Shock! he doesn't need anything else. *further evil laughter, squared*)

Dealing with undead in the basement should be a piece of cake, but I'm a retard. Magic users are so very overrated in that game; all you need is a competent items list- phoenix down the skeletons and the knights and they'll be out immediately...until they resurrect. I've played this game so much that I've got a dozen little tricks up my sleeve...*glomps Tactics* I love this game...

I just saw Hard Luck Woman; I am now, naturally, listening to "Call Me, Call Me". With my Ed skin. My next DVD will be volume six. No argument.

I can't believe I'm going to finally see the end of the series in two weeks. Gods...it'll have been almost exactly one year- I saw the first episode of Bebop on my birthday, and I'll be seeing the last just three days before it this year.

Yes, I do get overly attatched to anime series. Escaflowne turned me into a weepy obsessive for a while; I watched Trigun for eight hours straight without a break for anything, even though it was very badly subtitled; even Fushigi Yuugi had a semi-profound effect on me (though that was probably only due to certain other factors that were involved at the time). Bebop is, without a doubt, my favorite anime to date. My Squall wallscroll has been ousted in favor of the Spike/Julia/Vicious scroll that James gave us- much less colorful, not half as nifty an image, but still able to take the place of honor on the wall. I haven't watched anything else that can compete in terms of numbers the times I've stared at the screen open mouthed and whimpering, or the times I've cheered or squealed. (YYH may begin to compete in terms of cheers and squeals, but it has yet to bring me to gaping shock even once. Bebop did it twice in one episode and made me squeal today.)

So. Hard Luck Woman- now my favorite episode, up there with Black Dog Serenade and Pierrot le Fou (which actually managed to make me cry. obsessive. completely.) Even if Bebop isn't proper anime, and even if my loving it so much clearly reveals my appreciation for American television, I still say it's my favorite.

Can't wait until next week...*anxious*

(Coincidentally, next week is the Hiei-centric episode of YYH that I have missed. Next week will be some good TV, no mistake.)

I want Villains by Necessity. And hot apple cider with cinammon sticks, and butter cookies and yellow-orange leaves in my hair. I want to learn to write something that isn't a memory told in third person. Something that won't hurt like a broken razor across my soul in the telling.

Oh, stop the drama already, I know, I know. Yeesh. I've got homework to do.

Dammit. All of it. I can sit here and stare at the screen and listen to all the damn music that I want and will the words to come as hard as I possibly can, and nothing will happen. Not a thing. Not one shining drop of liquid cool refreshing inspiration, not one grain of brilliant truth or brightness to lighten the darkness around me, not even the beginnings of a very bad poem.

I think I'm going to dig out Bird by Bird again and read it. No, not because Cesi reccommended it, why on earth would you think that? *shameless* And cryptic, don't forget cryptic. *pulls out hair* I hate this. Hate it hate it hate it. Maybe I'll read more of Poetry as Persuasion. Maybe I'll write an article for the Beacon. Maybe I'll shadowbox until my arms fall off.

Maybe I'll just shut up. *screams*

Pardon me as I bludgeon my moodswings into a slightly less damning shape.

If I weren't feeling so trashed right now, I'd write something inspired. I haven't been sick in a while. I've forgotten quite what it's like. And the lights in this room are way too bright.

And for the sheep: 50 you're welcomes for the remaining unspoken 45. The sentiment is quite understood.

How Emotional Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Uh...that, and my elbow hurts. *waaaaahh*

I really must find the Great Expectations soundtrack, if only to be able to listen to "Wishful Thinking" in the car or on the band bus...such a wonderful, melancholy song.

Must convince the other brother to buy me Daylight for the birthday...since all he ever gives me are CDs, this should not be too difficult...*plots*

I would just like to say that the box under my bed filled with random people/characters is getting very crowded. *grin* Because I just added Vimes, Carrot, Rincewind, Death (the Discworld incarnation), Death of Rats, Angua, Susan, and Lord Vetinari. Hell, I added Vetinari twice because he's just that wonderful.

Terry Pratchett, I *heart* u.
*giggle*

*ahem*
*SQUEAL* VIMES!!!!!!
...that is all.

Quiz
created by Polly Snodgrass.

WATER OF EARTH. Mommy! Well, you could be. You are good with plants and small creatures such as children. You're very generous and basically great hearted. You probably make mad whack cookies and are good at managing the household; also businesses. You'd make a good tax person, book keeper, gardener, massage therapist, etc. The ever domestic and practical one, you can stretch a penny and make ramen noodles go a long way.

Okay, it was either this or Queen of Swords- and she's the arsenic poisoner; the black widow; the heretic queen; the evil, crazy, aloof, scheming bitch. Dammit! It can't be healthy to be this conflicted...because heaven knows I would not make a good mother, even if I do make mad whack cookies. I don't do the finance thing, either...Air or Earth, Air or Earth...not as bad as being fire/water, I suppose...but it's still irritating.

(I'll be Janus, looking both ways but going neither, I'll be the twilight at the edge of dawn...)

I always did love the Song of Aeolus. Especially the beginning part, with the ethereal voices just singing the random notes...
La la so fa mi so la ti do ti la so fa
la la mi la la ti la
re re do ti la ti la
But then they sing it as a round, and it just sounds three times cooler. Then, of course, there's the rest of the song, which is full of random lower horn music and sound ve'y coo' indeed.

The prelude is sort of hypnotic, though. Something you can get lost in, listening to. I do love Adiemus, I do...

"Burlap, the fabric of tomorrow! It's not a skin rash, it's trendy!"

"You know, a bloodbath is usually really good at getting rid of unnecessary tension. So long as you don't get caught, of course."
"But I'd have to find someone to blame it on, and I'm not good at that."
"Ask ****. He'd have a list of people for you, I'm sure."
"I guess...but it's still so messy. I'm a little bit neurotic about cleaning things, you know. I see a dirty dish, I clean it."
"When are you visiting next? But seriously, if the mess bothers you, just use a blunt object."
"What if I crush their skulls? Then you get splattered brains, and that's even worse than blood."
"In that case, I'd suggest you use poison."
"Ehhh."
"Or napalm. There wouldn't be anything left to clean. It even gets rid of dust bunnies."
"But the dust bunnies would retaliate with tactical nukes!"
"Generally things that are napalmed don't retaliate with much. They might run around in circles a bit, and fall over, and maybe even twitch, but there's not much retaliation."
"The survivors would come after me."
"Widen your target range."
"And take out the house? There's stuff here that I like! I've got books here!"
"If you don't get them, the dust bunnies will."
"Silly, everyone knows dust bunnies don't read."
"Yeah, but the squirrels do."
"Well we got rid of them a while ago."
"Really..."

Yesss, we are deranged. Yes, that did put me in a much better mood. Woo. Happiness. Or some reasonable facsimile of it.

Aw, I'm having too much fun with winamp right now. It pulled Moxy Fruvous' "Sad Girl" on my dancer skin. That would be a fic bunny if I wrote fanfic, it would. And now it did it again with "Hey Jealousy". And "Yellow". But that's only amusing because the skin is yellow. Yellow skin, yellow song, almost amusing if you're really bored...(This is me just skipping through my playlist to see what gets pulled on what, of course. I'm supposed to be doing homework. Or college aps.)

"Walking on the Air" on Yue. Now that's fitting. "Don't Bother None" with Folken. Now that's not fitting. Amusing, certainly, but not fitting. "Drops of Jupiter" on Gene. *giggle* "No Such Thing" on Auron. *cackle* (Would've been more apropriate with Tidus, but I dun have a Tidus skin.) "Save Me" on Vincent. Aww. He's Superman in disguise! (I really should be doing my homework...)
And earlier it actually pulled Gene on "Losing My Religion", which made me giggle. The only reason that skin is so inappropriately titled is because the damn song was always playing when I was working on it.

My general thoughts on both skins? I like Gene's repeat button better, and I'd like his shuffle but better if I'd made it shiny; the little yin-yang thingy ought to glow like the quartered circle does when it's on. I like the fact that Gene doesn't have any volume or balance buttons- the ones on Dancer irritate me, as does Dancer's posbar. I do like the way the equalizer came out, though. And Dancer's playlist is better. Gene's got a much better color scheme, though, and the image was so much easier to edit. Dancer has better buttons, or she would if you could see them...and I like her equalizer/playlist buttons better.

I think I like Gene's overall effect better, but Dancer was much more work and it shows it, I think...I need to get to work on some more; any requests? (After I do my homework, of course...)

Let's see if this works...

dancer.zip
starwind.zip

WinAmp skins! The first one is of the Dancer from Final Fantasy Tactics, the second is of Gene from Outlaw Star. Gene with handcuffs, no less. :) I'm hoping the download will work- I really wish I had screencaps of them, but that option wasn't working well with my stupid computer, so you'll just have to download them to see how they are. Should you choose to download, pleaseplease tell me what you think!

I am angry at fanfiction.net. Very angry. Certainly they can take away the NC-17 fics. But they should change their slogan if they do. "Unleash your imagination and free your soul." What a joke. When you censor us, what do you think you're doing? *growls*

(aside from the censorship thing, I'm just annoyed that I'll have to look harder to find pr0n from now on. *sigh*)
whaaaaaat? ~_^

Thinking of video games...I have yet to finish Legend of Dragoon. Damn Lloyd and his silly silver hair and bastard attacks that keeelll me, keeeeellll me dead. And Albert, while incredibly amusing, isn't half so cool as Lavitz. And Kongol? Who-what? Can we say stock character? Oi. Shana needs to shoot herself with her own arrows, Meru needs to lay off the caffeine, whats-her-name has no personality ("Oh, the other girl needs to be kidnapped now- I'll take her place and her dragoon armor- but I'll be just as useless in battle!"), and Rose is possibly the niftiest female character ever. And Haskel- well...uh...*scratches head* Haskel? Why is your voice so squeaky?

Dart is a retard, making Rose the only worthwhile character. Doesn't balance out. That, and the in battle graphics are two shades of awful, as is the music, means that I'm not particularly fond of the game to begin with...I also have horrible hand-eye-coordination, so the additions attacks usually leave me cursing at the screen. (But I can do Gust of Wind Dance really well now! (This is only because it's Albert, of course...)) So, right now I'm stumped at Lloyd, because I really can't do shite if Dart can't do damage with his Explosion spell. It's almost looking like Seymour on Mt Gagazet from FFX. I can't remember if it was nine or eleven tries it took me to kill him...and each time, I'd have to sit through that damn movie sequence and grit my teeth at Seymour's whiny voice. *gaaaaahhh*

I will say that LoD is kinda cool, concept wise. I really like the character designs, at any rate. It was translated badly, though; I'm glad I bought WA2 instead, when I had the choice (but there are just as many things wrong with that game...), I guess.

If only the TV didn't keep fizzling- I don't like large black bars in the middle of the screen when I'm trying to steal Elmdor's Gengi armor in Tactics. Don't like 'em at all.

I should dearly like to have a Hallow'een party- a small one, with my boys and the roommates, and KAK, and KE, and Sonya, and perhaps Tom and Tom and Rob, though that is doubtful indeed...Just a little party, with music and video games and anime and laughter and cookies and talking. Possible me dancing (bouncing) just for the hell of it- a celebration for the dead, for the living, for the halfway there- for candy and costumes and the joys of being young and far too stressed out.

I know it won't happen, but I could hope for one all the same.

Addendum to previous post:

Because so few people in that class even want to write.
Because he made us read part of Red Sky at Morning.
Because he's an idiot.
Because I liked those writing prompts, dammit.
Because he has a reputation.
Because it's a reputation for being too nice.
More than anything,
Because the term "creative writer" is more than vaguely insulting.

*sigh* Oh, I'll get over it. I might even like the class. I just feel like I'm drifting, that's all. I wish...but nevermind. Nevermind indeed...

I'm supposed to have a finished, presentable piece of writing for Creative Writing by Tuesday. *tears out hair* What are we supposed to write for this? "Oh, anything. I just want you to write, that's all."
*screams*

I. Want. Discipline. I. Want. Structure. THE CREATIVE WRITING FAIRY DOES NOT SEE FIT TO SMACK ME ON THE HEAD WITH HER SPARKLY WAND!!!! THE ONLY IDEAS I HAVE ARE NOVEL LENGTH MONSTERS THAT I WILL *NOT* HAVE DONE BY TUESDAY!!!!
GAAAAHHHHHH!!!!

*deep breath* grr. That man is going to seriously get on my nerves...

Waking Pandora: my sad, sad attempt at writing mecha anime.

Suddenly it hits me that The Box wasn't just a hole in the ground, it was a door. Evil escaped, leaving hope behind...but now evil wants to get back in. So. A dillema: does the keeper of the Box (Dorabelle) try to save Pandora's World by keeping vice and greed and evil here, or does she let this other world that she could have called home be consumed by evils kept from their rightful place too long?

Nina and Dorabelle suddenly became interesting characters again.

And there are suddenly a hell of a lot more big robots.

"So, where do you get your inspiration from?"
"Teriyaki chicken. The sesame ginger marinaded kind."

I'm awaiting October with bated breath...I'll have to make a kickass halloween costume, since I'll have a sharp and pointy prop to go with it. *maniacal laugh* That, and I just really like October in general. Mmm, apple cider.

Oh, blogger, don't be a bitch. I'm the only bitch around here. There isn't room enough for the both of us. I mean it, Blogger.

So, I wonder what would happen if I wrapped myself in an American flag and threw myself onto a bonfire, suttee style?

*blinkblink* Oh, wow, that definitely takes the cake for crack-headed and completely inappropriate.

Still, I wonder what they'd do? Did you know that it takes seven hours for a human body to combust completely? Seven hours to ashes...

Have to go to a WTC memorial thing tonight and play the star spangled banner. Blaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrg. Then I spend most of tomorrow doing the same thing. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrg. *sigh* And both of my noismakers are out of commission. Like, seriously broken and not working. Suckage. I'm ganta have to send out the plastic one; can't do anything 'bout the wooden one. Again, suckage.

I should probably go and get ready now...*grouses*

There must be some kind of way outta here
said the joker to the thief
There's too much confusion...
I can't get no relief

Business men, they drink my wine
Plowman dig my earth
None were level on the mind
Nobody up at his word
hey, hey

No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke
But, uh...but you and I, we've been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us stop talkin' falsely now
The hour's getting late, hey

All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants, too
Outside in the cold distance
A wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl
-"All Along the Watchtower", Bob Dylan

Yes, that's actually a Bob Dylan song, not Jimi Hendrix, though it's Hendrix who is more known for playing it...I daresay I'd enjoy the Hendrix version better than the Bob Dylan one, but that's just because hamonicas irritate me sometimes. Anyway. I'm in an escapist sort of mood...don't wanna be nowhere, na'mean?

*snort* Something to that effect, at any rate. I haven't been in a particularly literary mood lately...but, I did write a Jubal snippet in class today. Apparently he has a tatoo on his right shoulderblade that he didn't tell me about. So...(beware a Jubal with a few shots of Johnny Walker in him... foul language, mild chauvinism, and slight incoherence abound)

-----------------------

"That?" *much twisting and turning to try and see the green and yellow splash of color on his shoulder* "Aw, fuck, musta been eight, nine centuries ago...I was cruising around above Mexico or South America or someplace south of here- I spent sixty damn years in Greenland before that, I was ready for some warm weather, you know? Aaaanyway, so there I was, enjoying the view of some nice foresty greenery (after years of living in a god damn desert, and then in the tundra, you've got no fucking clue how utterly fucking wonderful a bunch of fucking trees are) *waves arms to prove point, and knocks over shotglass* and what do I see but a sacrificial ceremony of some sort- buncha natives dressed up in dodo outfits wavin' around some knives about to slaughter a fucking baby fer gossakes- so I'm like 'fuck this shit, I haven't done a good deed in eighty years and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let some bastards murder a fucking baby'- you gotta understand, it hit a little close to home. I never even got a chance to see my kid until she was a fucking adult, and that hurts- but whatever.

*pours himself another, knocks it back*

"Heh. Shit, that was fun- I just dropped out of the sky like a fucking arrow or a rock or something and they scatter. Like pigeons. Fucking birdbrains- but I'm one to talk, right? Yeah, well- the head priest threw a hissy fit, so I tol' him to shut the fuck up- an 'e did. Brat started wailing, so I told it to shut the fuck up- it did. I guess maybe s'a good thing I din' raise my kid...but at least she woulda cried in tune, so I prolly wouldn'ta shouted...heh. Then ev'body got down on their knees and started chanting, and bang! I'm the tribe's new mascot. I told the bastard the brat'd take his place, so he'd better quit waving that knife around. Fucker growled at me, tried to kill me a few times- the tribe clubbed him to death 'ventually, I think. Doesn't matter.

*pours one more, fiddles with the glass for a while*

"Kid turned out pretty nice- spoiled rotten, but not too horrible. Had a bunch of mindless nurses- bitches, alluvum, always tryin' to sleep with me or sabotage each other or poison someone- didn't matter who. Women. Go figure. *downs it* Bitch squad got me drunk off my ass, kinda like yer gettin' me now, on'y worser...heh. I passed out, and woke up...with the birdy on my shoulder. Ha- fucking junior priest did it- nice kid, nearly shat hisself when I woke up. 'fraid I'd call wrath a th'gods on 'im er sumthin'...*shakes himself* Yeah. Lemme think...I stayed there fer...'til Naamah was six, maybe. S'what I called 'er- wasn't her name, but s'what I called 'er. Useta be my sister's name...reminded me of her. Left when the natives got restless, y'know? Didn't like bein' in one place too long...too many people- too many ties to break.

"Right, the tattoo- old legend said that crows useta be white, but it flew too close to the sun and got burnt. The junyer priest said he thought it was 'cuz the old, old gods, nameless gods o' fire an' darkness, got mad at if fer somethin'...and then 'e said I musta per-personally done somethin' awful to make 'em angry- 'cuz otherwise nobody'd ever dark'n th'feathers of a thunderbird. Said 'e gave me the tattoo t'remind me of th'clouds- an' my home wi' them. Heh." *sobers slightly, shakes head sadly* "It'd take more than a few centuries before I forgot that...or those people. Pour me 'nother drink, wilya? Throat's dry as the fucking desert."
---------

I love how I'm sometimes just hit with revelations- Jubal is especially fun because he's been around for so very long and he's seen so very much...I think, though, that Naamah was actually his half-sister- but I could be wrong. I'm not in the mood to check, though there is a proliferation of Bibles in this house. Regardless, I think I like writing rather tipsy monologues. They amuse me.

*sigh* Disliking school still...but I did my homework. At home. Before midnight.

Amazing.

In creative writing today we had to write for ten minutes with a very simple prompt (nothing at all like the page long monsters we'd get at WFC): "In the beginning. Now write."

After two pages of babble, I came to the conclusion that, in the beginning, there were soap bubbles. (pop!)

That's either very profound, or on crack. *wanders off chasing soap bubbles*

Yes, back to this. I liked this template. Blocky. Colorful. Simple.
It worked.

And, as quite a few people know, I hate change. Hate it, hate it, hate it. 'scuse me, greatly dislike it. But. It happens. So, I deal.

However, when the layout gets to be so awkward and irritating that it makes me want to step on something, a change is frequently necessary in terms of going backwards. Going backwards still gets you somewhere, you know. Maybe not where you wanted to go, but you still end up somewhere.

Well, it's a start. I've got to go, so I can't do anything else to fix this...I hate school. I have a ridiculous amount of work to do. :(

tweet, tweet?

testing?

Apples and oranges...
There's plenty of similarity. You can compare them quite easily; apples and oranges. It's not like you're trying to compare a skyscraper and a cow. That would be rather difficult. But fruit? Simplicity.

Apples are harder, but with a thin skin. You can break through them easily to tear them apart. Oranges are a bit difficult; tough skin, but nothing but juice and stringy softness inside. Oranges will bounce higher when you drop them. Apple seeds are small and dark, with a silky shell around chewy whiteness. Supposedly they're poisonous; locked within a tough core, most people find them too isolated to bother with. Orange seeds, on the other hand, are loud and large and pale, invading the ruit in a random manner. You could try to bite down on them, but they won't break easily; in texture they are rough and striated, but still they're shape is streamlined enough to slip down an unususpecting eater's throat.

Certainly, they are very different. But they aren't radical differences (the cow's black and white blotches, in comparison to the skyscraper's cool gray, black, and mirror tones- it doesn't work), differences that mean nothing. They contrast. Thin skinned and hard, tough but juicy. Either would do to refresh a weary worker at the end of the day; crisp, sweet, tangy- you could describe either fruit with those words. So why does everyone act as though the two are as incompatible as that poor cow on top of the skyscraper?

They aren't that different. So maybe, one day, an orange will decide that it's tired of being unjustly segregated; maybe someday it will find a place in that bowl of apples on the table. Until then, it's just going to sit here and sulk.

Oh, yes (scribble being down and me not much liking diaryland)- Sheryl Crow is awesome. The concert last night kicked more ass than a steel-toed boot. I'd forgotten how much I liked her music in general- last night was utterly fan-fucking-tastic, despite the fact that I felt too self-conscious to get up and start dancing around in the aisles. I need to find out what the names of all the songs she played last night are- 'specially the one she played right after "Soak up the Sun". That one was coo'.

"Steve McQueen" is my new favorite screaming song, but the album version just doesn't do it justice. *sigh* Man, even after band practice and the promise of a six hour stint in a concession stand coming up, I'm still in happy live-music-bright-lights-sexy-guitarists-in-tight-pants-dancing-on-stage-and-Sheryl-Crown-and-Michelle-Branch bliss. That's some good bliss there, that is. *grin* Sheryl Crow put on an amazing concert; we missed the first fifteen minutes of Michelle Branch (and I assume that she opened with "Everywhere", which is really the song I would've liked to have heard live) but we got to see her do "All You Wanted", which was fairly coo'.

But aaaaahhh! it kicked ass! I wanted an overpriced t-shirt...or even an overpriced bandana to wrap around my hat...alas, it was not to be. I might be able to find one online, though...that'd be fairly coo'.

It's just a very happy thing you know. *happy squeal!*

(That, and I've rediscovered Escaflowne fanfiction. Mmm, Folken. *fangirlish sigh*)

Boffo:
I really am just trying to retell Escaflowne. Pardon me as I bash my head against a wall. (Dei and Folken would angst so prettily together, don't you think?)

On a side note, I hate school. I hate it with a passion that is very rare for me indeed. However, the bliss that is study hall is an entirely new experience...a whole period, in which I can do whatever I want? Why did I wait three years for this? Oh, wait, I was taking Latin. I already had one of those. Nevermind...(and I'm still taking Latin. Latin VI. One would think that I would be able to understand the dmaned language, no? Heh. You're funnny.)

On the first day of school, my teacher gave to me
An eraser shaped like a tree
On the second day of school, my teacher gave to me
2 pencils
and an eraser shaped like a tree
On the third day of school, my teacher gave to me
3 notebooks
2 pencils
and an eraser shaped like a tree
On the fourth day of school, my teacher gave to me
4 assignements
3 notebooks
2 pencils
and an eraser shaped like a tree
On the fifth day of school my teacher gave to me
5 BINDER CLIPS
4 assignments
3 notebooks
2 pencils
and an eraser shaped like a tree!

...heh. I wrote the original version of that in fifth grade, I think...with the help of some other kids in my reading class. It seemed appropriate. *shrug* As the days go on, they get really, really stupid, too...which is why I've stopped at five. (that, and I don't feel like remembering any more of it. ^_^)

Oh, have I mentioned how much I absolutely love Bare Naked Ladies? Mmm, Canada. I've been listening to Gordon lately..."The Flag" especially. It's a very Tyler/Opal after-the-story kind of song. (Yes, I'm horrible to my characters, absolutely horrible. It's not as bad as it sounds, really; I'll have to write that scene before it drives me crazy...)

The phone rings, it's early, it's seven o'clock.
He says sorry I woke you, but I just had to talk
You know last night, remember when I tried to choke you?
I didn't mean it, I was drunk, it was only a joke.
You should know that by now,
when the chequered flag comes down,
no one no one no one has won the race.

The next night he's over and over and under
and after he's finished she lies there and wonders
just why does she need him and why does she stay here
and then in the darkness she'll quietly say Dear,
you've never really known that when the white flag is flown,
no one no one no one has won the war.

They're complicated people
leading complicated lives,
and he complicates their problems
by telling complicated lies
He tells her he's sorry, she tells him it's over,
he tells her he's sorry, she says over and over
You've never really known that when the white flag is flown,
no one no one no one has won the war.

There goes a forest and there goes a bluebird
There goes a partridge and there goes a Go Train
There goes an angel and there goes a steeple
There goes a cop car and there goes an eagle
There goes a raven and there go the ribbons
There goes a raven and there go the ribbons
There goes a raven and there go
The ribbons the ribbons the ribbons
The ribbons of the flag
-BNL "The Flag"

I promise it's not as bad as it sounds. Tyler and Opal don't get that tragic...the song just reminds me of them, that's all. Other tracks from Gordon that I love? "Ninth Grade" and "Brian Wilson", naturally. "Hello City" amuses me, as well.

Right now The Talking Heads are playing in the background; daddy dearest is renting the DVD...My god, David Byrne's cheekbones. *giggle* Mmm 80's music. I rather like The Talking Heads.

"BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE!!"
Seriously, watching this is almost as amusing as Michael Stipe's dancing. ;)

Gah...make the phone stop ringing. Obnoxious creation of evil. Beellaaaaaarrrrggg.

Well. School starts tomorrow. Interesting. (ohidon'twanttogobackidontwanttogobackiwasfeelingfinebeforedontmakemegobackiwashappyhere-youremakingmegobackandihateyouforit)

We'll see how things go.

If a zombie is resurrected in Haiti...

Is it called deja voodoo?

(Damn the man for forwarding this to me!)

Heh...I found an old story concept in one of my random notebooks the other day...it went something like this: (as always, very vague and fuzzy)

It's the end of the world (isn't it always?) and the forces of good are going all out in the last battle against the forces of Chaos, Evil, and Anarchy. It's World War III, and the good guys are outnumbered. But, they have The General, the most brilliant tactician of the age, on their side. With him leading the forces, they're sure to win. And they would have, too. He had the plan worked out perfectly, but for a cluster of enemy bombers that made it through and managed to harass the area he was in...so, he quickly scrawled instructions for the other half of his troops, off on the other side of a small mountain range, and sent them off by carrier pigeon. (All other lines of communication were down.) He sent off a note with quick instructions, but the men in charge of the other forces would know what to do. There was just one problem.

The General has terrible handwriting. So, rather than waiting for The General to move his own troops into position, the other forces rush in, and are slaughtered. The General and his troops arrived just in time to witness the carnage and be obliterated themselves. Of course, none of the enemy survived, either, but they still won. Good only triumphs when there's someone left over after the battle. And this time, there wasn't.

The General had been knocked out by a piece of flying debris; when he came to, he was the last living person on the battlefield. Over a million men, cut down in cold blood, all because of his bad penmanship.

Ouch.

All of those dead people caused a serious backlog in the processing departments of the afterworld, so death finally said "Screw this, the lot of you can go back to the surface. Try and fix things if you want." Then Karma took over and organized all those lost souls, and gave them a leader in the form of the Spokesperson. Spokesperson then appeared to The General on the ravaged battlefield, and demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing, just standing there. Karma had a good laugh, and sat back to watch the show.

Spokesperson (and the million odd lost souls she represented) and the General then set off doing a world tour sort of thing, helping people and preventing the spread of anarchy as best they could. Armed with a limited amount of explosives (because we all know how difficult it is to find TNT in a post-apocalyptic world...) and gradually improving handwriting, The General actually manages to cause the downfall of the anarchists, and he somehow restores order to the world. Spokesperson and everyone else is able to move on (as Death finally gets a better secretary) and The General finally forgives himself for losing the war.

No, I wasn't on crack, yes, those tense changes are kinda wonky, no, I'm never going to write this. It just amused the hell out of me- next time you have to read bad handwriting, just be thankful that people tend to type up the important stuff nowadays...

"I wanted you to move in from the west, not charge in and do your best!"
It's like one of those stupid Sprint commercials...*giggle*

Little bit about Song of Shadows (working title)

Okay, so the main character is Cata Falk (I amuse myself sometimes...) who is not related in any way to my cleric D&D charactere, Catafalque, though Nocturne bears a slight resemblance to that particular scythe bearing minion of evil. Anyway. Cata is working her way through college by doing clerical stuff at a small law firm...the work is menial but the pay isn't bad and she really likes her boss. I'm still a little fuzzy on the details of her meeting Umbra and becoming Nocturne...that'll come to me eventually.

Umbra is Latin for shadow, but it can also mean ghost; that's basically what Umbra is- a ghost or shadow of some sort. Cata still has her own shadow when the sun is shining, but she also has Umbra- if you look closely, you can see the two separate shadows, but unless Umbra is actually moving around, it's impossible to tell it's there.

Nocturne is the arse-kicking defender of justice or whatever; it should be noted that Cata, Umbra, and Nocturne are three separate entities- Nocturne isn't just Cata's alter-ego. She's a completely different person. (Well, they aren't that different...Nocturne has a less spastic sense of humor, and she's a bit quieter than Cata, but otherwise they really are very similar.) I think Nocturne uses Umbra as a channel of some sort to enter the real world and occupy the space that is Cata. That's why they look so similar; Nocturne fills in the space that Cata leaves when they switch places. Not too sure on the background behind this, of course...I'll figure it out later.

Zyn Margols is slightly older than Cata; he's a journalist for a local paper. Very twitchy. Sunburns easily (he's a redhead). Both he and Cata come from rather abusive backgrounds- for Cata this means she's more on the offensively defensive side (sarcstic, antisocial, etc.) For Zyn, this means he's very high strung and something of a wuss. His childhood was not happy, not at all. He really, really likes Cata, once they get to know each other; she, of course, is too busy oggling her boss to notice.

Imbrium is a ghost shadow like Umbra (Latin for tears, as in mare imbrium on the moon- thank you, Piers Anthony), but Imbri is somewhat less benign. Imbrium has almost absolute control over Zyn, and rather than channelling someone else into Zyn's space, he takes over on his own and wreaks four different kinds of havoc throughout the city. Imbri and Umbra have some sort of history together, as do Nocturne and the guy Imbri is supposed to channel- they're all connected, but again, I haven't really gotten that far.

Arii Vahine is one of Cata's coworkers; people obey her unquestioningly, and she really is the most beautiful woman in the world. After Cata tells her to bug off and make her own cup of coffee, they become best friends- Arii is also connected to the ghost shadows somehow, though right now she doesn't have one of her own. She doesn't really need one, though...if some random minion of darkness were to attack her, she'd just tell it to go away (while reaplying her eyeliner), and it would slink off with its tail between its legs.

Glen Roberts is Cata's boss...and he's just very confused. Cute, but confused. He might be gay, but I doubt it. He's probably just confused. Beyond providing a convenient target for attackers and a bit of eyecandy, I'm not sure what he does. Run a law firm, I assume- but he seems to be rather lazy and laid back, so I'm not sure how he manages this. It's a mystery. (Maybe the ghosts are responsible. Maybe he's just lucky. The world may never know...)

Those are the four main characters and their parasites...Cata and her minifridge full of Dr Pepper have taken up residence in a corner of my head; Anya is grumbling about the loss of her couch and Tyler wants something to drink. *shakes head* It's only a matter of time before all of my stories run together, you know. My characters would probably start a huge, apocalypse-inducing fight, before getting bored and wandering off to play poker. cha'...

Hn...methinks the Orphan Sporks did a better rendition of this song...but still. U2. Huzzah. ...I think I just got unlucky and downloaded a crappy version of the song, though. *sigh* Eh. It happens.

Open a box and find...

A foil-wrapped object, approximately the size of a hamburger. Unwrapped, it is indeed a burger, with the only difference being a slight discoloration of the meat. The word "Dodoburger" is repeatedly printed along the inside surface of the wrapper.

Odd socks.

Hundreds and hundreds of the little plastic capsules that are used to contain the toys, stickers, and trinkets dispensed by vending machines. Each capsule contains a "lick and press" kiddie tattoo of a barcode, with instructions for placing on the palm or forehead. Each bar code is unique, and the tattoos are permanent

A M-16, embedded up to the stock in concrete. Whoever removes it will win the next presidential election (by write-in if necessary) and enjoy tremendous popular support. His closest advisor will betray him.

The pop-up version of the Necronomicon.

A sheaf of regular office paper. Carefully printed in the center of both sides of each sheet is "See Other Side."

*giggle* This is going to amuse me for a few hours, at least...

Because I suddenly suffered a flashback to RUMUN 2001, complete with Orphan Sporks and longing glances and guitars in the lobby and suspicious Mexican sandwiches, I am now downloading Bloody Sunday, by U2. Because the soloist's voice cracked during the refrain, and it was the last song they sang, and I was an idiot then but am less of an idiot now.

I'll be your golden idol goddess
If you sacrifice your heart
Even though I couldn't care less
Worship on your knees, little man
Only the worthy will pass my test.

I'll be your pagan devil deity
You can beg me for your soul
No matter what, you'll never be free of me
I've got you in my claws, little man
Is this the punishment you want for eternity?

--------
I've gotta stop it with the disturbing Satanic imagery, I really do...*snort* Eh, well. They say poetry (even bad poetry) sheds a light on the soul...hn.

I've got so much random work to do...:( I'm lazy. Horribly lazy. I'll get around to fixing up some of these things eventually- turn them into not-quite-so-bad pieces of poetry, maybe.

Aiyaiyai...my head hurts. I swear my parents are going to drive me off the deep end one of these days. The really deep end. *glare*

I do believe I would seriously maim for something signed by Yoshitaka Amano, or for The Sky collection. Hell, I'd step on someone's toes very hard for some of the random merchandise from the store. *drool*

Gah! I want the "Mistrust Certain Flowers" poster! And I am cursing myself and several minor deities for not buying Dream Hunters when I had the chance. Creepy Neil Gaiman + Shiny AmanoArt= Goooooood. . . . N.Y....salad? Vegetable. . . fairies? out of stock...*sniffle* Ah! They make socks! AmanoArt socks! In three different colors! And they're ridiculously expensive! But they're socks! And I so would beat someone over the head for the Think Like Amano book. I'd beat them over the head really hard. "Paint Your Lunch"! Posters! Auuugh! Coolness! *squeal* "Refuse to wear your glasses"! *squeal* And you get a discount if you buy all three! *squeal* And...Amano + Marvel= ohwowholyshitcoolness!!!! An Amano version of Wolverine? Say it with me now: Duuuuuude!

(Vera really should not go surfing through stores and such of Amano merchandise when it is late at night and her blog is handy. She will most likely squeal both in text and out loud.)

Dammit, now I'm going to have to dig out my FFIX artbook just to stare at the pictures in the back and drool over them. Some of his stuff is rather...weird; it's something you have to be in the right mood to enjoy. And right now I'm in an Amano mood. So pretty...*sigh*

Huh. I spoke to the brother a little while ago; we discussed AnimeNext. I won't be able to go 'cept on Sunday and perhaps Friday if I cut school and skip a football game. Still. I'll go, come hell or Highwind *cough*, and I'll get to see the brother dressed as a ronin of some sort. (Security is not allowed to drink on duty without supervision of the supervisor...and as the supervisor is James, that simply means he's got to share. *snigger*) I'm anticipating intense amounts of fun, tho I should get to work on a costume of my own. (Ah, if only Amelia wore black! I don't wanna wear white...*blech*)

Ooh, also: we've gotten some sort of cable upgrade. I HAVE THE CARTOON NETWORK!! BWAHAHAHAHA!!! HEAR ME LAUGH, OH YE INFIDELS, HEAR ME LAUGH!!!!

Ahhh, that feels good. Never you mind that most of the shows are potentially brain-imploding. I'll get to watch Outlaw Star and five different versions of Gundam and YuYu Hakusho (mmm, Hiei) on my own time! w00t! *happy dance*

"What are you doing Jackie? You don't have to wiggle your foot- just wiggle your butt! Come on, now, wiggglewigglewiggle! There you go, it's easy!"
"Wiggle-wiggle?"
"No, no, no! WiGgleWiggLeWigglE!!!"
"Wiggle-wigglewiggle!"
"Yes!"

I'm feeling so completely uninspired right now that it really isn't funny. I tried to work on Boffo this afternoon, but in the end I gave up; the room keeps tilting to the side, and I really don't like it when my current location decides to turn itself on its ear.

A friend of my mom's died today; she had cancer, but mom was talking with her and having lunch with her a week ago. She was feeling better then.

Apparently, she slid downwards so quickly no one could stop it. And then she was gone.

...She had a son named AJ, who was a friend of the brothers; I never knew her well, but I remember her.

It's...difficult. To express in words. In anything, really. If the sun made a right angle turn halfway up the sky, what would you do? What could you do? Would it really matter? That the sun no longer set in the west, but took a wrong turn and ended up north? Or south?

Would it really matter?

I've never really liked contemplating death...not of actual people, actual living things. My own death...doesn't interest me. Neither does yours. Nor does the death of Mother Theresa, or George Burns or anyone else. The deaths of three thousand people at the World Trade Center...well, that's a slightly different matter. That was the death of a number. Numbers can die, and we can feel simple, abstract horror. Individual deaths are so much more personal...but no more real.

What's real are the living people who remain after a death. A dead body isn't real anymore. A corpse is a non-person. If you woke up tomorrow morning, and you were the last living creature on the planet, what would you do? If you were all alone, suddenly and completely, what would you do?

I would make myself breakfast- pancakes, maybe waffles. Something fancy, with eggs and butter and sugar. Fresh fruit, too. Then, I'd go back to sleep.

I doubt that I'd wake up.

...I think I'll stop now. It's...a little too difficult right now. And the room just tilted the other way.

But really, I'd be fine.

And...I'm back! I'm not dead! I'm not ignoring you! I just wasn't here!

But now I am. So.

Nothing really new, aside from the fact that my feet hurt (yet I still love marching...perhaps I *do* understand sporty people, on some level. A very small level. Narrow. Rather cramped.) Spent the weekend at the shore, for the last time this summer...it rained, and I was happy. I woke up to the sound of rain, I went to sleep to the sound of rain, I dreamed of pirates. *blink* Not too sure about that one...but. It was a good weekend. I read a lot. Started and finished Dragon Prince by Melanie Rawn (I don't get how she makes me like all of the protagonists and hate all the bad guys- I never do that. I'm always rooting for the villain. But I really, really like Rohan and Sioned. And I really didn't like Ianthe or Roelstra. It's weird.) and also Sword-Dancer by Jennifer Roberson. Good books, both of them. Now I've got to find the rest of the series, in both cases. This will probably involve many used book stores, as they're both very old series. Suckage.

The sky was blue today- very blue, behind the clouds. Impossibly blue. Lapis lazuli without flecks of pyrite blue. Not sapphire blue, though. It was an opaque blue, a butterfly wing blue.
The car ride home was very long, and at times it seemed as if the clouds were racing us home, speeding across the sky like demons out of heaven.

I really don't want summer to end this time. It's September, and I didn't even notice August ending. I think something else more important has ended, now. I'm just not sure what it is...and that frightens me, a little. Maybe a lot.

Maybe more than a lot.

We'll see how things work out, I suppose. Nothing else I can do, really. It's a very good thing that I've gotten very good at waiting. I just wish I knew what I was waiting for.

*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.

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.

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?

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. ;)

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."

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.

"Oh, look, a pop-up: 'Did You Know There's Pornography On Your Computer?!'"
"Well, I should fucking hope so! I put it there!"
*snerk*
Ask a stupid question...

*bleary eyes* Meh. Damn crackhead Good Omens fic. My brain feels scrambled.

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.

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.

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*

...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!

IT'S RAINING!!!!!!!

Yes, I did just jump out of my chair, run to the door and stick my head outside. In a minute I may take my socks off and go splash in some puddles, because there's enough rain for there to be puddles.

*JOY*

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.

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.)

"Use the doohickey! Use the doohickey!"
-Dennis L McKiernan

Gad, I love quoting things out of context.

I think my brain just imploded.
*sigh*
Damn it, I just know that'll be a mess to clean up.

*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?

There is a distressing lack of angry music on my playlist right now. *sigh* Guess I'll just have to listen to The Buggles.

You know what happens when I decide that I hate the world?

As it turns out, the feeling seems to be mutual.

...or, I could just be feeling sorry for myself. (*glowers*)

*glowers*

*snarl* I cannot even express how utterly infuriated I am right now. This computer is abso-fucking-lutely useless. I am pissed off.

Excuse me, I have a few death threats to write.
*snarl*

...and the layout now seriously bugs me, even more than all the black did. Dammit! I don't have time to fix anything right now, though...grr. This irritates me.

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.)

This is me hating blogger right now. >:(

Only I won't give up- I can be persistent when I want to, you know. Although if the damned template doesn't work this time, I'll just give up for real. Go bake cookies or draw bloody pictures or something. *still sulking*

meh. I give up. stay unaligned. see what i care. *sulks further*

...or not. I hate html. and layouts. and all that other crap. *sulks* one more time, random, you get one more chance...

Showtime, Big O- let's see if this damned thing works this time, eh?

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.)

*putterputterputter* Let's see if that all uploaded properly...
And hey, look, Law and Order is on. But wait, it's on all the time. *giggle* Doesn't that make you happy?

invert: ctrl i
or something like it.
Or maybe I lied. the black was bugging me, and I don't feel like designing anything of my own.
That, and when I tried, it didn't work.

I just don't care anymore. I don't. Not anymore. I refuse to care. Whatever happens now, it's not my problem. I. Just. Don't. Care.

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

At times I find that I am such a sad, sad excuse for a human being.

(I believe I shall refer to yesterday as, "Dude, Virgina, way to make with the moodswings!" That is all.)

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.

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.

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 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-

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.)

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

Oh, yeah. Blogtitle change. It seemed to fit, you know?
...sorry. that was random, too. (i'm also boycotting capitals at random intervals. don't ask.)