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bending_sickle[...] but the best I can do, my friends, is random bits and pieces.
I'm alive! *waves* Obviously none of you folks are, though. Look alive, people!
*stops* *reconsiders* *is promptly lost behind a crowd of zombies*
The life and times of me, summarized:
Earlier last week, after going to watch 300 (again, I know), I bought a small music box, palm-sized, playing the chorus of Mary Poppin's "Chim Chimney", as well as a quill and ink, both blue. I've always wanted one of those little feather pens, and I figured I might as well get one. I don't often buy things, often needing to defend a particular purchase choice - thanks Internal Mother's Voice - but I figured, what the hell. Why can't I buy myself a nice little something? (I said so to the seller, saying that since my family only bought me practical gifts, if any, - socks for Christmas, anyone? - I may as well get myself soemthing I want.
Plus, I figured I was "allowed", what with that extra bit of bling from babysitting. Ha! I've gone from wiping bums one week - I am not kidding, though I wish I were - to being fired from my babysitting job the other.
The father asked me whether I was happy with the job, that maybe I was getting bored or didn't enjoy it and hadn't quit because I was nice. I assured him I was happy, and then he goes on in the same breath to fire me, saying that they're maybe asking too much of the children, getting used to a new person (after 2 months?) and that maybe in half a year or so. Bugger. When he asked the kids whether they'd miss me they totally said yes, they wanted to see me again. Ha, take that Mr. "For the Sake of the Children". (I'll miss chatting with their grandmother, who was an incredibly wonderful lady. She thought the parents were spoiling the older kid rotten, and I think she's right. Everything has to be his way or its Hysterics Time.)
I'm reading John Irving's Until I Find You, which deals with a tattoo artist and her sone. Naturally enough brings this makes me think quite a bit about my own tattoo options. I think I'm a bit more decided on what I want. (Or theoretically want, because, Hello? Chicken?) It'd be the hieroglyph of the scarab in the middle of my back - on the spine - quite small, in black ink. (Not at the base of the spine, particularly since I learnt it was coloqually called a "whore stamp".)
I've been having bizarre dreams lately. Such as a nightmare revolving around The Messengers, though I've only seen the trailers. Then there's last night's dream, where I am in the process of giving birth (aided by with an epidural). Then I'm trying to call a taxi in Mexico to get home, although I've forgotten the address, and my pet hamster - deceased as of 1994 or so - keeps trying to crawl out of my labcoat pocket. I give my mother a call - "By the way, you have a grandaughter." "Oh, nice." - to ask for the address.
The two universities I sent my lates applications to emailed saying I was missing documents, or that my papers weren't "certified". They have stamps from every single government! The Ministry of Exterior (Canada), the Dutch Embassy and the Spanish Embassy. How is that not certified?!? So I emailed them back a basic "WTF, dude, wtf?" but they're on holiday still Tuesday. Way to spoil my long weekend.
Fanfiction-wise, I've done very little. Last night I translated Undertow for my aunt, who likes it. *squee* Really likes it. *suqee squee squee* Writing fanfiction has totally messed with my writing scenelettes for my own personal enjoyment. Now whenever I jot down the outline of a daydream, just for posterity's sake, I can't help thinking about the dialogue, whether somehting is too contrived or not. Frig, man, it's like being a porn star who can't masturbate in her own livingroom without thinking about the hypothetical camera angles and lights. (Hell-ooo crack!metaphor.)
Links of the Day
Neil Gaiman embeds various short films on his blog. Check out the beautiful Tyger, of which there are higher quality versions (and more info) here. He was also up for sainthood (as an April Fools).
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kawaii_not does "Cute Gone Wrong" comics.
The famous Cyanide and Happiness comics.
Schadenfreude Pie recipie. "Dark. Rich. And oh so bittersweet."
* The Dice Man, Luke Rhinehart
I'm alive! *waves* Obviously none of you folks are, though. Look alive, people!
*stops* *reconsiders* *is promptly lost behind a crowd of zombies*
The life and times of me, summarized:
Earlier last week, after going to watch 300 (again, I know), I bought a small music box, palm-sized, playing the chorus of Mary Poppin's "Chim Chimney", as well as a quill and ink, both blue. I've always wanted one of those little feather pens, and I figured I might as well get one. I don't often buy things, often needing to defend a particular purchase choice - thanks Internal Mother's Voice - but I figured, what the hell. Why can't I buy myself a nice little something? (I said so to the seller, saying that since my family only bought me practical gifts, if any, - socks for Christmas, anyone? - I may as well get myself soemthing I want.
Plus, I figured I was "allowed", what with that extra bit of bling from babysitting. Ha! I've gone from wiping bums one week - I am not kidding, though I wish I were - to being fired from my babysitting job the other.
The father asked me whether I was happy with the job, that maybe I was getting bored or didn't enjoy it and hadn't quit because I was nice. I assured him I was happy, and then he goes on in the same breath to fire me, saying that they're maybe asking too much of the children, getting used to a new person (after 2 months?) and that maybe in half a year or so. Bugger. When he asked the kids whether they'd miss me they totally said yes, they wanted to see me again. Ha, take that Mr. "For the Sake of the Children". (I'll miss chatting with their grandmother, who was an incredibly wonderful lady. She thought the parents were spoiling the older kid rotten, and I think she's right. Everything has to be his way or its Hysterics Time.)
I'm reading John Irving's Until I Find You, which deals with a tattoo artist and her sone. Naturally enough brings this makes me think quite a bit about my own tattoo options. I think I'm a bit more decided on what I want. (Or theoretically want, because, Hello? Chicken?) It'd be the hieroglyph of the scarab in the middle of my back - on the spine - quite small, in black ink. (Not at the base of the spine, particularly since I learnt it was coloqually called a "whore stamp".)
I've been having bizarre dreams lately. Such as a nightmare revolving around The Messengers, though I've only seen the trailers. Then there's last night's dream, where I am in the process of giving birth (aided by with an epidural). Then I'm trying to call a taxi in Mexico to get home, although I've forgotten the address, and my pet hamster - deceased as of 1994 or so - keeps trying to crawl out of my labcoat pocket. I give my mother a call - "By the way, you have a grandaughter." "Oh, nice." - to ask for the address.
The two universities I sent my lates applications to emailed saying I was missing documents, or that my papers weren't "certified". They have stamps from every single government! The Ministry of Exterior (Canada), the Dutch Embassy and the Spanish Embassy. How is that not certified?!? So I emailed them back a basic "WTF, dude, wtf?" but they're on holiday still Tuesday. Way to spoil my long weekend.
Fanfiction-wise, I've done very little. Last night I translated Undertow for my aunt, who likes it. *squee* Really likes it. *suqee squee squee* Writing fanfiction has totally messed with my writing scenelettes for my own personal enjoyment. Now whenever I jot down the outline of a daydream, just for posterity's sake, I can't help thinking about the dialogue, whether somehting is too contrived or not. Frig, man, it's like being a porn star who can't masturbate in her own livingroom without thinking about the hypothetical camera angles and lights. (Hell-ooo crack!metaphor.)
Links of the Day
Neil Gaiman embeds various short films on his blog. Check out the beautiful Tyger, of which there are higher quality versions (and more info) here. He was also up for sainthood (as an April Fools).
kawaii_not does "Cute Gone Wrong" comics. The famous Cyanide and Happiness comics.
Schadenfreude Pie recipie. "Dark. Rich. And oh so bittersweet."
* The Dice Man, Luke Rhinehart
