But you never call at all.*
Mar. 20th, 2008 05:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bending_sickleBleargh. I feel horribly squishy. Disgusting, really.
Compiled notes for the Disease section of the paper. Will write it out now. (I swears!) I've decided that I will write about the Serengeti Extinction (where scientists are divided into two camps, "It just, like, happened, man" and "Oh my god, it was all our fault!") despite it being a horrible, horrible mess. Most of the stuff - the recent stuff, at least - is by Burrows, who's a freakin' pain to read, really, and everyone else is wrong but him. (He really hammers that point home, the jerk.) *facepalm* The reason I'm going to do this is that I've finally gotten an estimate on the length of the paper. It starts at 30 pages. Single spaced. With or without a) title page, appendices, b) references/bibliography, gods know.
I talked to someone today! It was my landlord, popping by to show someone a room, in case they wanted it for a couple of months. I was a) still in my PJs b) quiet and pre-wibble and c) totally embarassed by a and b.
It was pretty wierd, too, 'cause someone rung the doorbell (twice), scampered off, then came back and rang the doorbell again. Dude, if no one answers the first time, fuck off. (I really didn't want to answer the door. No point, really. I wasn't expecting anyone and then there is the written word.) So then there I am in my room when suddenly I hear folk walking up the stairs and wandering about the rooms. Mentally, I'm standing at the doorway armed with a steak-knife, saying "What the fuck are you doing in my house?" In reality, I'm just cringing at my desk thinking, "I don't care, just go away." My, aren't we well in the head today?
I'm getting no emails, not even those really obnoxious "Look! An available room! One that totally doesn't help you at all!" ones. No word from anyone.
It's funny: mom thinks that if I don't call her, then that means that I'm a-ok. Actually, my a-ok-ness and my calling her are more of a bell-shaped thing, in which I won't call if I'm at either extremes of a-ok-ness**. So she thinks I'm ok. Even if I tell her I'm not, she doesn't take it seriously. And if I tell her I'm weapy or miserable, she's all, "You're fault, really. You have to do something. Why haven't you gotten any friends yet? Crying doesn't help." And I'm all, "Thanks, that helps. And it's not like I choose to be miserable and incapacitated by the wibbles."
Um... Yeah, lots of LJ-cutage. It's mainly full of fail and whine, so... *shrug* What can I say, life jsut isn't happening lately. Gods, what a whiner. Sorry. I'll stop now.
Happy Spring!
Links of the Day:
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
get_medieval links to a movie, saying:
everybody must see this movie at least once in their lives, or they will have missed out on something essential to the Human Experience. Since IMDB doesn't have a proper plot synopsis, I will tell you everything you need to know: this is a movie about a giant vulture from space, made of antimatter.
Giant vulture. From SPACE! MADE OF ANTIMATTER!!
barmaidblog posts an event in which people are nice! For nothing!, ending it by saying:
I think my point is that the man in the suit didn't have time to weigh the likelihood that he would receive karmic benefits from his good deed. It looked to me like it never occurred to him not to do the good deed.
And wouldn't it be nice if that never occurred to any of us?
Bard of Cornawall - November Song, written and composed by him, is gorgeous.
* "I Love it When You Call" by The Feeling
** "Happy Shiny Everything!" and "I'd rather be dead, kthnxbai"
Compiled notes for the Disease section of the paper. Will write it out now. (I swears!) I've decided that I will write about the Serengeti Extinction (where scientists are divided into two camps, "It just, like, happened, man" and "Oh my god, it was all our fault!") despite it being a horrible, horrible mess. Most of the stuff - the recent stuff, at least - is by Burrows, who's a freakin' pain to read, really, and everyone else is wrong but him. (He really hammers that point home, the jerk.) *facepalm* The reason I'm going to do this is that I've finally gotten an estimate on the length of the paper. It starts at 30 pages. Single spaced. With or without a) title page, appendices, b) references/bibliography, gods know.
I talked to someone today! It was my landlord, popping by to show someone a room, in case they wanted it for a couple of months. I was a) still in my PJs b) quiet and pre-wibble and c) totally embarassed by a and b.
It was pretty wierd, too, 'cause someone rung the doorbell (twice), scampered off, then came back and rang the doorbell again. Dude, if no one answers the first time, fuck off. (I really didn't want to answer the door. No point, really. I wasn't expecting anyone and then there is the written word.) So then there I am in my room when suddenly I hear folk walking up the stairs and wandering about the rooms. Mentally, I'm standing at the doorway armed with a steak-knife, saying "What the fuck are you doing in my house?" In reality, I'm just cringing at my desk thinking, "I don't care, just go away." My, aren't we well in the head today?
I'm getting no emails, not even those really obnoxious "Look! An available room! One that totally doesn't help you at all!" ones. No word from anyone.
It's funny: mom thinks that if I don't call her, then that means that I'm a-ok. Actually, my a-ok-ness and my calling her are more of a bell-shaped thing, in which I won't call if I'm at either extremes of a-ok-ness**. So she thinks I'm ok. Even if I tell her I'm not, she doesn't take it seriously. And if I tell her I'm weapy or miserable, she's all, "You're fault, really. You have to do something. Why haven't you gotten any friends yet? Crying doesn't help." And I'm all, "Thanks, that helps. And it's not like I choose to be miserable and incapacitated by the wibbles."
Um... Yeah, lots of LJ-cutage. It's mainly full of fail and whine, so... *shrug* What can I say, life jsut isn't happening lately. Gods, what a whiner. Sorry. I'll stop now.
Happy Spring!
Links of the Day:
get_medieval links to a movie, saying:everybody must see this movie at least once in their lives, or they will have missed out on something essential to the Human Experience. Since IMDB doesn't have a proper plot synopsis, I will tell you everything you need to know: this is a movie about a giant vulture from space, made of antimatter.
Giant vulture. From SPACE! MADE OF ANTIMATTER!!
barmaidblog posts an event in which people are nice! For nothing!, ending it by saying:I think my point is that the man in the suit didn't have time to weigh the likelihood that he would receive karmic benefits from his good deed. It looked to me like it never occurred to him not to do the good deed.
And wouldn't it be nice if that never occurred to any of us?
Bard of Cornawall - November Song, written and composed by him, is gorgeous.
* "I Love it When You Call" by The Feeling
** "Happy Shiny Everything!" and "I'd rather be dead, kthnxbai"
