You can kill a lifetime without feeling anything but skin.*

Oh bandersnatch. It's 4 am. I'm awake.

I'm not so much bored as in a total state of funk**. Well, not funk. More like- imagine the state of blah The State of Blah. Now, imagine this state as a hole, a pit, if you will. Feeling blah is like standing neck-deep in a pit, and how much blah you're subjected to depends on how deep of a hole you're in - whether you can see over it or your field of vision is two-thirds muddy horizon. Well, ladies, I've been staring at nothing but dirt all day. I'm cold, and muddy, and I'd head!pit but I'm tired of getting mud in my eyes.

Meaning, nothing has amused me today and I have been utterly incapable of forming coherent thoughts for extended periods of time.

( Random drivel, how trivial. )

Giant. Pit. Of Blah.


* Chuck Palahniuk
** Which, hey! Means, apart from "a dejected mood", stuff like "to be afraid of" and "to frighten" and "to shrink or quail in fear". I find this amusing!
*** Non-metaphorically, I was pantless and took three hours in being pantful. I was damn cold by the end.

If you are lonely when you're alone, you are in bad company.*

The Pit of Blah is getting muddy :(

Ma called, worried because I've been pretty AWOL recently. ( Read more... )

Today's walkabout sucked yet more suckety popsicles, now in rain-flavour! Stupid shitty city with nothing to do...

I never did send that email to my supervisor, telling her how I'm actually working. (Well, *finger quotation-marks*, but yeah.) Stupid introduction, all "Heeey, this paragraph's getting a might long, ain't it? No no no, don't cut it short! You need to say this stuff! But not here! No, not there either. No, you can't mix-and-match, what is this, a buffet?"***

It took me literally a couple of hours to fully change from outdoors clothes to indoors clothes and settle back to being indoorsy and do regular indoorsy stuff. That doesn't make sense. I mean, I'm just not doing stuff anymore. Except being all blank and/or wibbly. Dunno what's better. I mean, the blankness is just so I'm not wibbly - emotional!aneasthesia - so I guess that's better. But then that means that I don't think anymore. Zip. Oooh, there's the erratic thought now and then, but - *stares at cursor for ages* Yeah.

Steps to Making Sickle Better****: Tonight's Programming

( Read more... )

ETA: The Cuddleiscious Leopard of Win is gone! Gooooooone! There is nothing to cuddle at the top of the stairs! Woooooooooe!
[Translation: The stuffed giant!leopard seems to have disappeared. I am upset.]


Links of the Day:
katrina87's Fanmix: Leave The Earth Behind You And Take A Walk Into The Sun (Doctor/Rose) and Fanmix: I'll find a way (Rose Tyler EP) are pretty but probably too old to have viable download links.
exotik's Master Picspam 1 and 2 (John Simm in Doctor Who) is a thing of sexy, sexy beauty. No one should look that fuckable in a black suit and tie. Unf indeed.


* Jean-Paul Sartre**
** Fuck you, Sartre.
*** Writing things as sentient is fun!
**** For a given value of "better". Obviously, there's something wrong with my own definition of the word.