| (no subject) |
[Sep. 14th, 2009|03:31 pm] |
The ability to bullshit impressively is part of my inheritance (from Dad's side of the family). I've always known it was there, but sometimes I think I should be more honorable than that, and for years I've been going back and forth on whether or not I'm willing to abuse my powers.
...I think I am. Or, more accurately, this is the point at which I stop pretending I haven't been doing it all along. Become paranoid! Reevaluate everything I have ever told you! IT WAS ALL LIES.
Except the part about hating everything because that is true and only gets truer. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 13th, 2009|07:54 pm] |
Me: Guess who's wearing a dress
MOI
the other three horsemen shall be along presently
...wait, which horseman is it when I wear nice clothes
Steffi: pestilence |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 5th, 2009|07:32 pm] |
My childhood ambitions, by year:
Grade 1: hermit
Grade 3: hermit
Grade 4: hermit
Grade 5: ornithologist
Grade 6: hermit with a falconry license
And essentially, that's still my dream. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 11th, 2009|06:51 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | the lake | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Lapdog - Staring at the Sun | ] |
I dreamed Christopher Paolini invited me to dinner. My initial reaction was "NO, HE IS A BAD WRITER WITH AN ENORMOUS EGO, WHY WOULD I-" and then I came to the realization that I myself am a bad writer with an enormous ego, and the only difference is he gets paid. Therefore, either we would get along or my seething resentment would be the death of him, and anyway I wanted Thai food something fierce, and as the offended party in this challenge (because in dream-logic this totally constituted a duel), I was most definitely going to pick a Thai restaurant for the venue.
I was about to tell him this when my stepmom barged in and threw two duffel bags at my feet. She told me I was going to be late. I asked what for. She said "YOUR FLIGHT TO BEIJING. I ALREADY PACKED FOR YOU. GO GET IN THE CAR, AND I HOPE YOU AREN'T THINKING ABOUT GOING TO DINNER WITH CHRISTOPHER PAOLINI."
"Why am I going to China?"
"There was a thing in the newspaper. You'll only be there for two weeks, don't look so surprised."
"Look," I said, trying to be reasonable, "I can understand some Mandarin and I can read a little less - traditional, even - but my accent is so bad I'll be a laughingstock. Also, incapable of communication, but the Chinese are going to mock me and I just don't think this is wise -"
"Like that's really going to be a problem? YOU NEVER TALK ANYWAY!"
I woke up after about five minutes of trying to convince her that this was completely false. I was unsuccessful. |
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| this is getting ridiculous |
[May. 23rd, 2009|05:09 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | rage | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Voltaire - When You're Evil | ] |
Stepmom: I can't find the tape of part 1 of Titanic!
Me: Music to my ears.
Her: *eyes me suspiciously* You never liked Titanic, did you?
Me: It's sappy. I don't do sappy.
Her: YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT IT'S OKAY TO BE SAPPY SOMETIMES. ACTUALLY, BEING SAPPY IS IMPORTANT AND YOU'RE MISSING SOMETHING. YOU DON'T LIKE ANY CHICK FLICKS AND YOU NEED TO LEARN TO, BECAUSE YOU'RE A CHICK -
Me: Correction: I'm female. Not a "chick." Chicks are annoying; there's a difference.
Her: You are too a chick and you need to accept that. YOU HAVE TOO FEW EMOTIONS. YOU CAN'T JUST GO THROUGH YOUR LIFE NOT BEING AFFECTED BY SAD MOVIES.
Me: I'm unsentimental. Sue me. It's my prerogative to dislike whatever movies I dislike.
Her: YOU NEVER FEEL ANYTHING OR THINK ABOUT ANYTHING AND THAT WOULD BE OKAY IF YOU WERE A GUY BUT YOU ARE NOT A GUY AND YOU HAVE TO REALIZE THAT SOMEDAY
what the fuck is that
I don't even |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 14th, 2009|04:06 pm] |
I hate being called "creative." It implies an obligation I don't like - creative people are supposed to come up with stuff, they're supposed to find inspiration, they're supposed to solve problems with their quirkiness and unconventional perspective. I'm only creative in the sense that picking at a scab creates new scars. Once in a blue moon, a thought crosses my mind. I revisit it. And I revisit it. And I revisit it. And then there's blood and pus everywhere and occasionally something kind of neat-looking emerges underneath.
More often, it just looks stupid and I am finally forced to admit that it would've been smarter to slap on a Band-Aid and ignore it. |
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| (no subject) |
[Mar. 26th, 2009|11:12 am] |
The first semester of college was fun, and at the end I thought "well, that was an entertaining diversion, but I feel no real need to do it again. Now things can go back to the way they were."
But they won't. There are three more years of this shit.
First it was "public school sucks but private school will be better," and then "private school doesn't suit your personality, but we'll send you to public school in a state where it doesn't suck and everything will be roses," and then "well of course middle school sucks but high school will be a vast improvement," then it was "high school may be miserable you but you're going to do so well in college and you're going to love it." But I don't anymore. And they're not even pretending that the real world is going to be better; that would be too ridiculous a sentiment even for them.
I'm profoundly concerned that the best part of my life is already over. |
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| This dream is not awesome |
[Mar. 12th, 2009|09:59 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Dalriada - Tûzhozó | ] |
I'd been up late watching creepy-ass Youtube videos and I woke up at 3:35 AM with the distinct impression that I was trapped in an elevator with a cannibal. Also that my head was going to be chainsaw'd off and stapled to someone else. I couldn't exactly remember what was disturbing about that, though, because I had an annoying song stuck in my head and it blocked out all else. But I realized that if I went back to sleep like this I would have horrible nightmares. On the other hand, it was 3:30 in the morning so what the hell was I going to do but sleep? Therefore, what followed was probably the lamest nightmare in the history of anything:
I dreamed that I got a letter from a good friend. She was going to Chicago to pursue her dream of... whatever her dream was. I was never going to see her again (for some reason it didn't occur to me to, idk, go to Chicago?). I was like "oh well." Then I got a letter from another friend. She was going to Spain, same deal. As I stood there by the mailbox more letters kept falling out. Everyone I knew had gotten a grand opportunity to get exactly what they wanted out of life, very far away from me, forever, and would never get said opportunity again so how stupid would you have to be not to pursue it, etc.
I called the friend who was going to Chicago to congratulate her. She said I sounded disappointed. I told her to shut up and go be famous, of course I'm happy for you, you fuckwit. Then I called the next person who'd written me. Have fun in Spain, why the hell would I begrudge you your life's goal, it's my own damn problem if I don't have any aspirations. Then I called the next, and so on, and around the seventh person I completely lost my mind and started ranting at him about how there was nothing the country of Norway could conceivably do that I couldn't do better. He hung up on me. Another letter fell out of the mailbox. It was addressed to "You Selfish Bitch." I woke up.
I think some wires got crossed in there somewhere because unless I am very much mistaken, "you are about to be dismembered and eaten" and "everyone is going to leave you" are two very different kinds of fear.
Not that I know anything about fear because I'm totally awesome like that amirite |
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| Fun with genealogy |
[Mar. 4th, 2009|11:27 am] |
So it's around the time of the American Revolution, and in New York somewhere, a Loyalist informs a Revolutionary officer living nearby that "o hello old sport I intend to steal your horses." Of course, the revolutionary takes every precaution to protect his horses and catch the thief, but the horses disappear anyway. Said Loyalist goes on to make a career of this and, though eventually caught and hanged, is remembered in legend as both a hella awesome thief and quite the gentleman - I mean, he was decent enough to warn you, it's not his fault you suck at protecting what's yours amirite? He is also remembered in the present day (by me, and now you) as an ancestor of mine.
In conclusion: I tried to deny the call, but it is in my blood. I have found my purpose in life and none of you can stop me.
I will become Carmen Sandiego. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 23rd, 2009|11:34 am] |
Guys!
Guys guys guys
I JUST BLEW ALL MY MONEY ON TURKISH FOOD
Haha, Dad thinks I have a life now because the one time he called me was when I was out at a restaurant with the one person I can stand out here... He actually texted me to congratulate me for getting out of the dorm. Shit, I'm pathetic. I mean, I got out of the dorm! AND NOW I'M BROKE AND CAN NEVER LEAVE IT AGAIN.
I haven't even met the conditions he and Terri set for me, but then, I never expected any good to come of that anyway. They don't know how I operate. But... I would be compensated for my trouble, if I ever bothered. Also they would kill me if I didn't. It wouldn't be a difficult decision, except that what they're asking of me is to go rub elbows with a bunch of ~*ambitious*~ and ~*driven*~ people in ~*polo shirts*~. And they all ~*golf*~. Frankly, I'd rather drown.
But, hey. Red lentil soup. I guess. The memory will sustain me...? |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 16th, 2009|11:25 am] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Tally Hall - Spring and a Storm | ] |
I dreamed I was in a store looking for audiobooks, and this intensely pretty guy walked up (seriously, I think my brain was going for "RL equivalent of Leslie") and said, "You look just like him."
To which I said "Bzuh?"
"Well, you look exactly the way I thought he'd look. When I was reading about him. ...Y'know."
"Actually, I don't know."
"I mean... your eyes are so green."
"Dude, my eyes are brown."
He got extremely flustered. "Well, that's not, um, that's not that important, is it? What's important is that you're kind of like my hero."
"...What."
"Never mind! But you'd better mail me your next manuscript or else!" Then he ran off. I tried to follow him, but it it seemed like he'd just vanished as soon as he got out of sight.
For the rest of the dream whenever I tried to mention this incident to anyone, and particularly if I tried to ask any questions, I would start speaking in one of a random rotation of terrible fake European accents*. It was so embarrassing that I stopped talking altogether.
*I have a history of randomly and uncontrollably adopting a terrible fake Dublin accent in dreams, but this has never happened before. |
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| miscellaneous inanity |
[Jan. 13th, 2009|02:55 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | dreams | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Tally Hall - Taken for a Ride | ] |
Two nights ago I dreamt that someone had given me a book by H.P. Lovecraft for some reason, and that I was under some compulsion to actually read it. My friends, there is a reason I have not read Lovecraft, and that reason is that I am kind of a wuss. So there I am and the book somehow pries itself open and begins assaulting my eyes or somesuch, and there gets to be some vaguely creepy imagery and suddenly I stop, realizing that - hey, I've never read Lovecraft, so this is not going to be an accurate representation of his works, so it won't be that bad. But then I get to thinking, my subconscious is still a pretty spooky place, so I had better wake up before this turns into what I believe will make a perfectly serviceable nightmare even without Nyarlathotep. So I wake up. While that was, my waking mind concedes, mildly weird, I'm determined to get as much sleep as possible prior to the first day of the new semester, and waste no time in drifting off again.
Lather, rinse and repeat all fucking night. No idea what brought that on, either. The next night wasn't half so eventful; I merely woke up this morning so hungry I thought I was going to puke - which is really pretty counterproductive, if you think about it, as I assume my gastrointestinal system has not. It's never been all that bright - and a full fifteen minutes before the food court even opened.
I intend to keep busy this semester and devote at least 75% of my time to Activities Other Than Moping. Currently debating whether it would be more worth my while to get a job or a social life. Or a library card. Your input appreciated. |
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| Dreams so far this year |
[Jan. 3rd, 2009|01:50 pm] |
1. Got a text message from an unknown number. On closer inspection, the unknown number was not a number but in fact "Anonymous." Anonymous had obtained a copy of my book and liked it. I did not wonder how they had gotten said book or, more importantly, how they'd gotten my number, but whether they had really gotten the point. After a little more thought, I realized I did not know what the point was myself. This did not, however, make it any less imperative that Anonymous understand it.
While I was puzzling over this, someone handed me a spider plant on which two of the leaves were bright blue, instructing me to safeguard its magical properties.
2. Had a very long Internets discussion with ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) tasseograph and several charming strangers regarding The Point Of My Book (and we never got any more specific than "my book;" it could have been one of the ones I wrote last year or some other book entirely). I was underwater at the time.
3. Birds. |
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| This year |
[Dec. 31st, 2008|11:58 pm] |
-Read 30 books.
-Wrote two.
-Attained legal majority
-Voted.
-Graduated high school.
-Got accepted to college.
--Went to college.
---Kicked ass and took names at college.
-Stopped drawing like a terrible anime ripoff artist and started drawing more like a terrible anime ripoff artist in recovery.
--Completed a fully colored mouse-drawing in 20 minutes. Because I could. Three minutes ago.
---Got a tablet so that kind of stunt will no longer be necessary but I will probably do it anyway because I'm nuts.
-Did not set anything on fire.
-Did not have to choke any bitches. |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 24th, 2008|07:38 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | a long succession of Chrono Trigger remixes | ] |
Finished that one story today, at approximately 145,600 words.
I've now proven I'm capable of writing novels and, indeed, two in a year if it should come to that. But I have yet to adequately prove that I can write good novels, so I suppose that'll be my next goal. In the meantime: editing like a villain.
In conclusion, Chrono Trigger. |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 1st, 2008|02:25 am] |
Just got back from playing broomball with, among others: Solid Snake, George Washington, Darth Vader, and a gorilla. Wiped out repeatedly and at one point and lost all feeling in my right arm for almost a minute.
So yeah, it was epic and I'd do it again. |
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