bending_sickle | Are you feeling better now?*

Because Sickle Is Incapable of Well-Linked Prose

There’s a couple reasons why I haven’t been posting much lately. The first and more important reason is that I simply don’t have time to write and muse and all that fun stuff. Although you’d think with the little that I actually do, I’d be able to stay on the ball better. (See also: my failure to search for a job.) The second reason is that nothing really happens.

Week 2 in German went by better. I still get home with a linguistic headache because learning your fourth language with your fifth as the language of instruction and casual conversation is hard. I’ve been trying to brush up on declinations and pronouns (where mental tricks like, “the R changes to N in Akkusativ, then to M in Dativ then to S in Genitiv with an extra ES for the noun” are supposed to help but really just end up confusing me even more because they’re just letters all messed up. On the plus side, however, seating arrangements have now stuck and the girl I sit by is incredibly chatty and takes the same bus and metro as me to go home, so after a hard two hours of German, I get to converse in Italian at breakneck speed omg.

The Italians love their sciopero. Case in point: the full-day total public transportation strike this Wednesday. Madness, you say? Of course! That’s what Friday’s are for. So because the metro shut down at 8:30 am, I got to go to my work’s neighbourhood a full hour earlier than I should have, and then sit around in the street until it was time to go in for work, because of course all the coffee shops were closed (except for the one which only had two meters squared to stand about in in front of the bar). The metro didn’t resume until 5:30 that afternoon, which meant that I couldn’t go home between work and my German class, so cue more hanging around the streets until I walked to the Goether and sat in the library. To get home after class, my parents had to pick me up because the goddamned transport was on strike again after 8 pm. Ugh. It was a very exhausting day.

I’ve been having crazy strange anxiety all day, and possibly yesterday. I have this knot in my stomach constantly and feel not so much short of breath as forced to breathe too shallowly. (Maybe that’s the same thing, I don’t quite know.) Anyway, the thing is, whenever I think about something, no matter what it is, and especially if it’s something I want to do (even if that something is just watch TV or a plot point idea), it feels like my whole stomach turns around and around and jabs me in the middle for full measure. It’s like there’s a cracked-out hamster on a wheel turning and turning and turning inside me and whenever I try to think, it goes into overdrive and makes me catch my breath and try to calm down. It’s not the same as the usual freaking out that I’m used to - the rapid panicky shivery sensation that makes me tap out a crazy rhythm even if only in the air. It feels more like how I felt the whole summer before starting university - that sensation of always having the lovechild of a pendulum and a guillotine swishing menacingly above me. I keep sighing and trying to relax but it’s not going away. Words like free-floating anxiety run through my head.

These past two weeks has been rough in the social department as well. I think I’ve lost a friend on account of a lack of reply and a whole mess of other stuff and I’m swaying between the “if they’re that quick to drop me without the slightest attempt to try mend the friendship then they’re not worth it” and the sad wail of “but I thought we were frieeeeeeends!” The other rough patch was basically the uncalled-for opening of old wounds - or of locked-up memories I’d been moving past - and that being a wonderful roll in the Worry River. And you know what? Damn straight I’m going to write about it on my journal. It’s my gorram journal and I need to write about it and hey, if those involved read this then well, 1) I’ll be shocked that they are because they've done a crap job about it before and 2) they’ll be doing so because either they’re taking initiative in mending things, in which case the ball is still in their court or they’re just doing the narcisistic “what’s she saying about me?” scans and can go crack a coconut open with their teeth. This might come back to bite me in the ass later (and has in fact bitten me in previous occasions but learning is for idjits and you know what? This is how I feel and I will not apologize for that. Maybe this’ll help those people understand my headspace right now (which honestly is really just a hell of a lot of panicked screaming over nothing).

On the plus side, my dreams are apparently on my side for once in my life. I keep having dreams where horrible things could happen but don’t. Like Dream Me will be in a Confrontation and somehow I’ll have the upper hand, or walk away without being belittled or eaten by zombies or whathaveyou. The thing is, Dream Me is winning dream situations. It reminds me of queenanthai and ursulav talking about how in their dreams they manage to confront the Bad Thing that’s chasing them, or even beat the shit out of them. I’ve never had this happen to me, but I like the trend. Of course, gods only know what it means when my psyche feels the need to cut me some slack and let me win. Life, as they say, is a bitch. Good thing dreams aren’t.

Despite the wonderful achievement of the fanmixes, I’ve yet to pimp them out to fanmix. I don’t even know why, I just haven’t gotten around to it. And I’m so proud of them too :/

Yesterday at the Goethe, instead of trying to finish Louisiana Hoodoo, I tried thinking out and plotting a bit the vague idea or world or something I’ve been having about The Last Wild Angel. I have a few images, a few people, a little bit of mythology, but I can’t seem to form an over-reaching arc. So far in the Solving of Things, I just have that Kezef’s opening of Heaven’s Gates was more of an “open the gates and drag the angels down” stint, which is what resulted in the not-meteor shower and all the smoldering angels speckled aross the post-apocalyptic land, but apart from Kezef’s doing, I can’t really see it as a Time story or novel. Same world, maybe, but different people and different places. Maybe. I don’t know if I’ll be able to make myself write it before this November, in which case we all know what that means (even though I’d been hoping to give the whole world of Servants of Darkness a try).

I finally started screencapping the remake of Friday the 13th with Jared Padalecki in the hopes of eventually, someday, snarking at it. I've only done 10 minutes worth, but at least it's something.

I only just learnt that Andy Hallett’s died. This is quite upsetting and sad.

I finally watched Castle 3x13 - and by the way, where the hell were all my shows last week? And where’s Human Target this week? - and it was heavier on the Drama than the Squeeful Comedy but holy peaches yo, it was good. Then later with Mom we watched 2x13 on the television, which basically is the direct set-up for 3x13, and having the two fresh in my mind was wonderful. I was even quite tickled to notice that when Beckett’s taken off the case in 3x13 and leaves in a troubled huff, sliging her jacket over her shoulder as Castle shouts, “Beckett! Kate!”, the same exact thing happens in 2x13. Le squee. (I’m just praying it was deliberate and not a reusing of ideas.)

Links of the Day

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Five Times Jess Wondered About Sam

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From Dead in the Water. From Supernaturalwiki: "The same lakehouse and location in this episode was used in Jensen Ackles's movie Devour." I knew it!

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