Creepified

Do not look to me for new news: I’ll only give you old news. Or possibly no news. Anyway, here’s this week’s summary:

( Read more... )

Chinese: Social relations

Just what the title says: a partial transcription of a Chinese conversation guide for tourists. Written as: “pinyin (pronunciation) – translation.” ( Chapter 1: Social Relations )

Look! Random!

Things to do:

Find comm’s where to post “Copper”, such as beforeserenity just after K comments and a beta gives it a one over. Might even get adventurous and beta/post the pre-R/J scene that I’ll later (someday) mesh into the Jayne-fic.

Go to big_damn_quests to ask about Mal and his injections in Serenity (it’s the plural that confuses me) and figure out, once and for all, how much a whore in the Firefly ‘verse costs. (Or, well, would cost.)

I think I want to do something with Floyd, the pimp. By which I mean, give him a bigger part in the as-yet-unclear plot. I kinda like the guy.

Save “Late-night call” to disk in order to write that R&S scene.

Email mom about the upcoming movie The Devil Wears Praga ‘cause she read the book.

Investigate www.gradschools.com some more, especially those courses in the Netherlands. Try not to panic.

Oh sweet fucking god, just remembered that I once read a sci-fi story about warriors who cut into themselves, breaking bones and causing deformities and that just screams “reaver”.
Three other Serenity details I’ve noticed: a) “You hold. Hold till I get back,” is a quote from Firefly, b) one of the few references to Blue Sun is when Jayne drinks from a Blue Sun bottle after learning the truth on Miranda and c) Jayne says, “..dead for no reason” and we zoom in on Wash. Delightful foreshadowing. (Thanks to active_apathy’s icon for making me notice this.)

Utterly Firefly-iffic quotes ganked from darthmaligna and evadne_noel’s song memes: ( Read more... )

Recap

Put yourself in Hamlet’s shoes. Suppose you were a prince, and you came back from college to discover that your uncle had murdered your father and married your mother, and you fell in love with a beautiful girl and mistakenly murdered her father, and then she went crazy and drowned herself. What would you do?

Go back for a masters?
Art Buchwald and a student

This might get ugly, because I’m still crying. And the song on the radio, “I can’t stand to see you sad, I can’t bear to see you cry” isn’t quite helping matters.

Ah, Pink Floyd. Thank you, radio station, for picking yet another miserable song. “Wish you were here” my arse.

I’ve just talked to my brother, a notably long conversation, and before that I spoke with my mother. Now, some of you may know that speaking to either of these usually isn’t good for my generally elation. I should know better that to speak to them one right after the other.

But I think that’s the problem right there.

Let me begin, as is my custom, at the end. I asked my brother how he started deciding and looking for a university, a thesis project, and all that jazz. My brother then gave me (or, rather, re-gave me) advice. Or lack of advice, because, really, I’m the only one who can figure this all out.

By “all” I mean “what I want to do with my life”. Or, more specifically, what I want to study. ( More about that here )

A university is very much like a coral reef. It provides calm waters and food particles for delicate yet marvelously constructed organisms that could not possibly survive in the pounding surf of reality, where people ask questions like 'Is what you do of any use?' and other nonsense. - TPratchett