Am growing my nails. Haven't bitten them in over a fortnight. Am, barring social disasters, a complete saint. Can scratch people with them and everything. Oh boy. Could I make the retractable and metal in manner of Lady Deathstrike or whatever her name was in X-men 2? Because that sounds pretty cool to me, just quietly.
V. stressful moment yesterday, as went to tea with Tim in the QVB, and left my wallet there. Only realised about 45 minutes later when I was about to get on a bus. Couldn't think where it could be, thought had lost money, phone bill, my ring with the teeny weeny diamod in it, and every vital card and piece of I.D. I own. Was highly stressed, and late for history lecture. Also the Tea Room people looked at me as if I was silly. (Strange, that)
Speaking of me looking silly (it seems to have been a week for that, doesn't it? It should be Sloth Week, but I'm too busy looking silly/procrastinating for my Latin essay to sleep), looked silly in Manning today when, as part of Operation: Completely Obvious (Tim's idea: I really should have known) told Bec and Sam to go out. Worst bit was, Tim, recreant that he is, left for a tutorial, and left me to face the music. Grrr..
Surprisingly enough, plan didn't work. Not sure, in retrospect, what I thought would happen. Meh. *puts bag over head for next 2 days*
Hay, maybe I should undertake some kind of vow of silence for the next few days. With my mouth closed, I should find it harder to put my foot into it.
Could be interesting, actually. Have often been tempted to try it. Remember Alex Hodgekiss did that for a day in year 4, and was highly impressed. Possibly was v. easily impressed?
Problem is that it would preclude those little pleasantries like thanking bus driver, and apologising when step on feet of people I don't know and so on. Certainly could not do it at work. Large part of job is answering phones. In fact, apart from the filing bits, my job consists largely of exchanging pleasantries with people.
Maybe this is a bad plan? Say it ain't so.
As soon as I get organized, by the way, I'll post pictures of Jasmine discovering the Legolas cutout on her bed. Any more requests for photos? You might be in luck. (Posted now)
Also: Yay! I bought a rather nice art print today. How exciting.
In other news, I should probably mention that am going out with Tim, having completely failed to notfiy all IB fans in any official way thus far. Sorry people. Go my efficiency.
Of course, he's not telepathic, so possibly shouldn't go out with him? Hmmm...
Am at work, and my little sister Alex (who turns 12 on June 23) is mysteriously here also. Probably because my mother is taking my grandmother to a doctor in the building, and I'm convenient childcare? Anyway, have been making her learn/recite Shakesperean quotes in return for biscuits. So, if she wants a biscuit, she has to recite a passage. So far she's got
"To Be or not to be, that is the question; whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them"
and
"Who steals my purse steals trash, 'tis something, nothing, 'twas mine, 'tis his and has been slave to thousands, but he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and leaves me poor indeed."
Also a Milk Arrowroot and a Chocolate biscuit.
Really, it's win-win for her. Wish I had a big sister as cool as me [for a given value of "cool", obviously].
Thought: if the Whitlams are releasing a new album sometime this year, does that mean there'll be a tour? And concerts? If so, let's totally go! Pro Caelio. As usual, once it's done, anyone who wants can have a copy. I can't imagine why so few people ever take me up on these offers. And my essays are always so fascinating, too. Really, who wouldn't want to know about the role and significance of women in the Russian revolution or Cicero's defence of his client M. Caelius Rufus?
P.S. Good grief, it's been such a frustrating day.
Woke up with Smiths-guilt, and realised that it was already out there, and there was little I could do. Also, my mouth hurt, because I burnt it really nastily last night on over-heated tea. Stupid tea.
Then was late to Manning due to long line to pay bill at Post Office.
Then was a complete idiot and probably upset two friends due to being deeply stupid, an very possibly clinically socially disabled today. Plus, of course, completely failed to drop the subject when it became clear was in a hole. Oh yes. Kept digging.
Then said "how exciting" in an effort to be upbeat when my grandmother said that she had to have spinal surgery next week. Yeah. She's in her 90s. Completely life-threatening. "Exciting". Nice one.
Then got home and dropped the dinner which I'd just made on the floor.
Slammed bedroom door repeatedly in lieu of breaking something / jumping off something tall. Feeling highly percussive.
[Cat looks rather intimidated, really, sort of skulking around in a placatory way].
Feel that will only take something of the frustration level of typing half a sentence in Caps Lock by accident before go completely nuts.
Oh wait, I forgot something, I also realised that I hadn't linked Vivian's blog from here, despite linking even little sister's boyfriend's blog. Was not a deliberate snub. Thought had linked it. Sorry Viv. Have linked you now.
See? Have alienated/irritated at least one friend in every group I can think of, including myself. Probably, of course, most of them are rather less distressed by this whole thing than I am. Suspect, for instance, that Vivian wasn't losing much sleep over non-linkage. But who needs that added stress? None of the people I know, right now. Everyone's got that end-of semester depression.
*breathes deeply*
Oh, speaking of end of semester, I have an exam on the 22nd at 12 noon, and then an exam on the 22nd at 3pm. Yay. Either this is a clash, which is a minor disaster, or else they don't quite clash, in which case instead of unwinding/massaging life back into my hand/last-minute studying, what I'll be doing is running across campus in order to get there on time. (Actually, in fairness, think the first one has a take-home option, but still, it would have been nice to have the option, yes?)
*listens to calming music*
Plus, of course, I haven't done any of my essay. Or even much of the reading.
If I was the type to be self-loathing, suspect would be right now. Fortunately, have self-esteem of over-inflated steel. Yay.
!@#$%^&*()_+=-;':",\.
OK, have finished being self-indulgent now. Will move on. Again. Just as soon as "Don't Believe Anymore" ends, because that's just the most gorgeously angsty song ever. Yay.
... OK. Now. Officially move on, as of right now.
So, who likes daisies? I like daisies. Yay for daisies. *token capers*
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Dear Smiths: an apology
So, logged on to the blog this morning in order to delete ill-advised [also unfair and innaccurate] bits of last post before people read them, b ut it seems that for the first time in ges, everyone had been there before me.
Anyway: public apology to Kathryn and Jeremy.
Also, overreacted, Tim could be v. fairly described at Fisherman Hat Guy, and Sam truly is very furry. So yes, sorry again.
Worst if it is that "furry boy" is, as Sam notes, v. funny, rather than twerply at all. And do not know Jeremy well enough to say to him "Oh, sorry, my mistake, you're hilarious! Let's be friends." or similar.
I vote we start calling Sam "the Fuzz" as a tribute to wronged Jeremy, and also because Sam stupidly doesn't like the police, and because he is, as I said, furry.
Am nasty person [nasty, stupid person: to post that in blog was stupid, not to check what had been said was stupid, and to get irritated at Kathryn when was own fault was stupid] , unlike the much-wronged Smith siblings, who it turns out are paragons of sweetness and well-dressed light. I guess I should have seen that coming, really, was kind out obvious.
*kicks self and looks apologetic*
P.S. Sorry.
Anyway: public apology to Kathryn and Jeremy.
Also, overreacted, Tim could be v. fairly described at Fisherman Hat Guy, and Sam truly is very furry. So yes, sorry again.
Worst if it is that "furry boy" is, as Sam notes, v. funny, rather than twerply at all. And do not know Jeremy well enough to say to him "Oh, sorry, my mistake, you're hilarious! Let's be friends." or similar.
I vote we start calling Sam "the Fuzz" as a tribute to wronged Jeremy, and also because Sam stupidly doesn't like the police, and because he is, as I said, furry.
Am nasty person [nasty, stupid person: to post that in blog was stupid, not to check what had been said was stupid, and to get irritated at Kathryn when was own fault was stupid] , unlike the much-wronged Smith siblings, who it turns out are paragons of sweetness and well-dressed light. I guess I should have seen that coming, really, was kind out obvious.
*kicks self and looks apologetic*
P.S. Sorry.
Saturday, May 28, 2005
A Saturday in retrospect
So, we've hired Monty Python and the Holy Grail on DVD, which has such extras as a Lego version of the Camelot song, subtitles for people who didn't like the film (taken from Shakespeare's Henry IV) and 'How to use your coconuts!'-an educational film, not to mention, of curse, the actual movie.
The only drawback in what would otherwise be a fairly ideal situation is that Blasted Felix has somehow mysteriously and effectively killed my DVD player. Blast him. Grrr....
This is particularly frustrating as pretty much all of the videos we own/have hired are on DVD. Also, my DVD player is cheap enough that it makes it seem stupid to get someone in to fix it but too expensive to lightly replace.
Anyway, went to Glebe Markets today (was going to say this morning, but realise that in fact that I woke up at noon, and therefore whilst it was morning on my personal timescale, it was, in fact, afternoon) which I always love. Yay!
Went with the actual aim of paying the phone bill, but the post office had closed half an hour earlier, and Telstra's bill-paying thing was down today. It being clearly just not meant to be, I therefore spent my phone bill money on two cool tops and the complete works of William Shakespeare. (Well, I'm exaggerating: I spent much more than just the phone bill money, which was only $30. Heh... Am such a paragon of fiscal impracticality.)
Rather pleased, actually, can't help but feel that fifteen dollars is a pretty good price for all the culture that can be extracted from the complete Shakey. Leather-bound, too. How classy.
Dammit, am now feeling stressed, as Cat is going out with some friends from school (Kathryn, who was going to go, then decided not to, but now is after all, and Hellena, who as far as I know was going all along) this evening, and I decided not to go in order to get work done. However, what with having slept all morning, marketed, spent unwisely and people-watched all afternoon, and now tried to fix the DVD all evening, I haven't got any work done. The logical conclusion here is that I absolutely must work tonight, but it feels very tempting to just say "stuff it".
As such, am torn. Sort of want to go out, and found it v. difficult to repel Kathryn and a Janus-like Catie, who tried to convince me to go out, as unable to satisfactorily justify to self any course of action.
Feel tragic and misanthropic for staying home alone, have urge to run after the car shouting "Wait! Take me with you! Nooo!" and similar. But really not in the mood to go out to a club, especially with those three, who are charming and wonderful, and some of the very best people anyone could hope to know, but incredibly stressful to go to nightclubs with. Usually one of the most enjoyable parts of such an evening is putting on makeup, and wouldn't have time to put any on. (And would not go out to club without makeup, as really, what would point be? Also would look stupid, in jeans and some random top and my secretly-school-shoes without makeup or big earrings at a nightclub. Would be nothing to distract from casualness of clothes! Imagine if got turned away from nightclub for being under/badly dressed! Would have to kill everyone there to prevent it getting out, and then rush home in order to complain about it on my blog.)
But equally, not in the mood to go out anyway. Is too damn cold.
Also, Kathryn's brother is going out too, and he is something of a twerp as I recall (remember, he was the guy who called Sam "fairy boy" just after meeting him). Similarly, Kathryn just referred to Tim as Fisherman Hat Tim, which seems more or less as dismissive as Fairy Boy in its own little way. [No offence, Kathryn, you'll forgive me, its been a long day. Still, defy you to justify Jeremy's Sam-fairy-boy-calling as anything but twerpishness. Perhaps it was an off day and he's usually charming? Will give him benefit of dubious doubt, suppose.]
Wish Rage would come on already, as you can watch Rage while pretending to yourself that you're doing just about anything, including, but not limited to, reading for your latin essay; writing your latin essay; learning to speak Spanish; solving the question of what is the most fair and equitable form of government; discussing whether a really aristocratic sneer is attractive in real guys or only in fictional ones; or making a definitive list of the three most enjoyable Robin Hood movies of all time.
Conversely, Forces of Nature (with Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock, just so you know which of the five-odd movies of that name I mean) is just unmitigated shit. It doesn't even have the occasional Michael Jackson clip to relieve the tedium like rage does. The movie is even ill-lit.
It's bizarre, I sat down to write an upbeat post about the cool day I've had, and it's ended up sounding whiny. It really was a cool day. One of the tops has cats on it, and the other has sequined butterflies and a chain and is green. Similarly, I firmly believe that Glebe Markets is a thing of beauty and a joy forever and so on. Plus, of course, it's been a damn good week, what with watching Errol Flynn movies and missing Empire Records, exhibiting the Road to El Dorado to unsuspecting bystanders and force-feeding The Mexican to those same bystanders two days previously, and all manner of great stuff.
So really, it's all good, let not my passing lapse fool you. Life is charming.
The only drawback in what would otherwise be a fairly ideal situation is that Blasted Felix has somehow mysteriously and effectively killed my DVD player. Blast him. Grrr....
This is particularly frustrating as pretty much all of the videos we own/have hired are on DVD. Also, my DVD player is cheap enough that it makes it seem stupid to get someone in to fix it but too expensive to lightly replace.
Anyway, went to Glebe Markets today (was going to say this morning, but realise that in fact that I woke up at noon, and therefore whilst it was morning on my personal timescale, it was, in fact, afternoon) which I always love. Yay!
Went with the actual aim of paying the phone bill, but the post office had closed half an hour earlier, and Telstra's bill-paying thing was down today. It being clearly just not meant to be, I therefore spent my phone bill money on two cool tops and the complete works of William Shakespeare. (Well, I'm exaggerating: I spent much more than just the phone bill money, which was only $30. Heh... Am such a paragon of fiscal impracticality.)
Rather pleased, actually, can't help but feel that fifteen dollars is a pretty good price for all the culture that can be extracted from the complete Shakey. Leather-bound, too. How classy.
Dammit, am now feeling stressed, as Cat is going out with some friends from school (Kathryn, who was going to go, then decided not to, but now is after all, and Hellena, who as far as I know was going all along) this evening, and I decided not to go in order to get work done. However, what with having slept all morning, marketed, spent unwisely and people-watched all afternoon, and now tried to fix the DVD all evening, I haven't got any work done. The logical conclusion here is that I absolutely must work tonight, but it feels very tempting to just say "stuff it".
As such, am torn. Sort of want to go out, and found it v. difficult to repel Kathryn and a Janus-like Catie, who tried to convince me to go out, as unable to satisfactorily justify to self any course of action.
Feel tragic and misanthropic for staying home alone, have urge to run after the car shouting "Wait! Take me with you! Nooo!" and similar. But really not in the mood to go out to a club, especially with those three, who are charming and wonderful, and some of the very best people anyone could hope to know, but incredibly stressful to go to nightclubs with. Usually one of the most enjoyable parts of such an evening is putting on makeup, and wouldn't have time to put any on. (And would not go out to club without makeup, as really, what would point be? Also would look stupid, in jeans and some random top and my secretly-school-shoes without makeup or big earrings at a nightclub. Would be nothing to distract from casualness of clothes! Imagine if got turned away from nightclub for being under/badly dressed! Would have to kill everyone there to prevent it getting out, and then rush home in order to complain about it on my blog.)
But equally, not in the mood to go out anyway. Is too damn cold.
Also, Kathryn's brother is going out too, and he is something of a twerp as I recall (remember, he was the guy who called Sam "fairy boy" just after meeting him). Similarly, Kathryn just referred to Tim as Fisherman Hat Tim, which seems more or less as dismissive as Fairy Boy in its own little way. [No offence, Kathryn, you'll forgive me, its been a long day. Still, defy you to justify Jeremy's Sam-fairy-boy-calling as anything but twerpishness. Perhaps it was an off day and he's usually charming? Will give him benefit of dubious doubt, suppose.]
Wish Rage would come on already, as you can watch Rage while pretending to yourself that you're doing just about anything, including, but not limited to, reading for your latin essay; writing your latin essay; learning to speak Spanish; solving the question of what is the most fair and equitable form of government; discussing whether a really aristocratic sneer is attractive in real guys or only in fictional ones; or making a definitive list of the three most enjoyable Robin Hood movies of all time.
Conversely, Forces of Nature (with Ben Affleck and Sandra Bullock, just so you know which of the five-odd movies of that name I mean) is just unmitigated shit. It doesn't even have the occasional Michael Jackson clip to relieve the tedium like rage does. The movie is even ill-lit.
It's bizarre, I sat down to write an upbeat post about the cool day I've had, and it's ended up sounding whiny. It really was a cool day. One of the tops has cats on it, and the other has sequined butterflies and a chain and is green. Similarly, I firmly believe that Glebe Markets is a thing of beauty and a joy forever and so on. Plus, of course, it's been a damn good week, what with watching Errol Flynn movies and missing Empire Records, exhibiting the Road to El Dorado to unsuspecting bystanders and force-feeding The Mexican to those same bystanders two days previously, and all manner of great stuff.
So really, it's all good, let not my passing lapse fool you. Life is charming.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Lust week, preceeded by a little light seething
Ok, to start with, allow me to express my extreme, seething frustration with a discovery that I made after handing in my Psych report this afternoon. Before I do, I should probably advise you that after getting home from work yesterday, I nearly killed myself by staying up until 4am writing my report, whereupon I gave in and went to sleep. I then got up 4 hours later and missed my first three lectures of the day in order to finish it by twelve, come in to uni and hand it in, unedited. With that firmly in mind, imagine how I felt when I discovered... it's not due in until to-frigging-morrow.
Yeah.
Had to go and ask for it back in order to edit it tonight. And all that was for nothing. *seethes*
In other news, Lust Week is doing as well as Gluttony Week before it.
We had people over on sunday for hairdying, having declared Sunday, rather than Monday, the frst day of any given week. And we had tequila and Bellinis and Empire Records, and people getting drunk and getting together *names no names but looks unfairly and misleadingly at Sam*.
Then on Monday people were sober and stayed together, and there was pizza and we watched The Mexican, which is pretty cool.
Then on (what am I up to? Tuesday? yes) on Tuesday, there was some kind of women's day thing (a-flipping-gain) at Manning and a chick was doing belly dancing, and the whole of Manning was filled with lust. (Mind you, Women's day: half naked women. This seems wrong to me. It should be for the women, not presenting women as sex objects to do harem dances. We should have had the Chippendales or something. )
And then today I wore my cool new cloak (which isn't about lust per se, but which is very cool) and Sam, for reasons that seemed very logical on Sunday night when we decided to do it, dressed as a pimp daddy, with a purple shirt and bling, and Bec and Cat dressed like ladies of negotiable affection, and Tim, wimping out, went gothic also. (Obviously I wasn't wimping out, I had a prior costuming engagement)
Also, this evening in Manning, I passed my lipstick around (which I had with me, and on at all, by reason of gothiness) and Bec, Cat, Sam and Spencer (Tim was at a tute) all put some on, and we talked Bec into covering Sam in lipstick, (of which there is footage, v. amusing). And we all ended up with kiss marks on us. Despite our efforts of negotiation, however, she didn't put any on his chest, which was partially visible through his pimpin' shirt (Gruss Gott, we sound like Britney Spears' wedding). Discovered also that if you kiss a bar glass while wearing excessive lipstick, and then press it against your cheek, you get quite a creditable kiss print. Not sure that this will ever come in useful, but you never know.
Anyway, I've finally gotten organised, and here are some photos...
http://spaces.msn.com/members/inadvertent/
Yeah.
Had to go and ask for it back in order to edit it tonight. And all that was for nothing. *seethes*
In other news, Lust Week is doing as well as Gluttony Week before it.
We had people over on sunday for hairdying, having declared Sunday, rather than Monday, the frst day of any given week. And we had tequila and Bellinis and Empire Records, and people getting drunk and getting together *names no names but looks unfairly and misleadingly at Sam*.
Then on Monday people were sober and stayed together, and there was pizza and we watched The Mexican, which is pretty cool.
Then on (what am I up to? Tuesday? yes) on Tuesday, there was some kind of women's day thing (a-flipping-gain) at Manning and a chick was doing belly dancing, and the whole of Manning was filled with lust. (Mind you, Women's day: half naked women. This seems wrong to me. It should be for the women, not presenting women as sex objects to do harem dances. We should have had the Chippendales or something. )
And then today I wore my cool new cloak (which isn't about lust per se, but which is very cool) and Sam, for reasons that seemed very logical on Sunday night when we decided to do it, dressed as a pimp daddy, with a purple shirt and bling, and Bec and Cat dressed like ladies of negotiable affection, and Tim, wimping out, went gothic also. (Obviously I wasn't wimping out, I had a prior costuming engagement)
Also, this evening in Manning, I passed my lipstick around (which I had with me, and on at all, by reason of gothiness) and Bec, Cat, Sam and Spencer (Tim was at a tute) all put some on, and we talked Bec into covering Sam in lipstick, (of which there is footage, v. amusing). And we all ended up with kiss marks on us. Despite our efforts of negotiation, however, she didn't put any on his chest, which was partially visible through his pimpin' shirt (Gruss Gott, we sound like Britney Spears' wedding). Discovered also that if you kiss a bar glass while wearing excessive lipstick, and then press it against your cheek, you get quite a creditable kiss print. Not sure that this will ever come in useful, but you never know.
Anyway, I've finally gotten organised, and here are some photos...
http://spaces.msn.com/members/inadvertent/
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Gothiness begins
So, have officially dyed hair black and taken to wearing excessive eyeliner for the week: is too late to wimp out now. People keep looking at me slightly oddly.
Actually, have superpowers of Gothiness. Was walking along with Cat today, and a Greenpeace guy stepped towards us, but was eyelinered into submission and went away without interrupting us. Heh.
Problem, though, is that I have a bad habit of chewing my nails, and with black nail polish on, this can only lead eventually to disaster. As soon as I forget myself, I'm going to end up with black nail polish chips on my teeth. Ugh.
Interestingly, my history tutor asked if I'd changed my hair (felt special) and yet my sister asked me if I'd dyed it yet. Seems strange to me. Also the black dye has turned my red-that-has-now-faded-to-blonde streaks purple. Suspect will end up with mauve streaks in brown hair. Dread to think how this will look, although possibly will just look devastatingly cool.
On downside, have managed to get black/purple dye on couch cover, and also some clothing. Hopefully will wash out. Also, have not yet had personal stregth to wear cloak/cape thing to uni. But everyone's dressing up tomorrow, so will do so then. Will also attempt to talk Cat into wearing the fishnet tights with her outfit, as she's wearing a skirt. Seems pointless under my jeans. Only I'll know. I can know about them (and possibly derive some sort of gothic strength and smugness from the knowledge) more comfortably by not wearing them, but rather thinking about them periodically while they are in my room, and I wear comfy socks.
Am traitor to the "embrace pain" philosophy that, am given to understand, I ought to be, well, embracing. Feel that vampire bite marks are one thing, but that blisters on the heel lack that romantic edge, y'know?
In other news, think Tim might not have been joking re. having a thing about Goths. Keeps looking at me smittenly. Possibly, however, this is merely my own inimitible charm. Is that how inimitible is supposed to be spelled? or is it -able? Meh, you know what I mean. Charm, lots of it. That's me.
Also, went to Vivian's Birthday party picnic on Sunday, which was fun. Yay for that too.
Problem with this is that really should have spent weekend doing my Psych report, which is now due in tomorrow. Am slightly worried by this. Especially as was emailled sources through unimail, which I believe I've already expressed my thoughts about. Have downloaded all the readings and rashly deleted original mails. Now having difficulty getting computer to open files. Am staunchly not panicing as am still at work. Just wait till I get home. In retrospect, really should have gotten more sleep over last few days. Feel that staring out tired is bad plan.
Nooo! That song "2 princes" by the Spin Doctors, which is an absolute classic, was just begun on the radio, but then not played. Stupid Mix 106.whatever-their-decimal-is. Always feel that is a terrible thing to use bits of good songs as jingles. For a while Merrick and Rosso were using a riff from Cake's "Never There", an absolute classic, and rather a favourite of mine at the time, and I had it stuck in my head for about 2 months.
Oh, the patient with the incredibly irritatingly controlling mother who I complained about about a month ago is in again. Sans Mama. Wonderful.
I really need to keep writing this post in order to stave off the inevitable writing of report which lurks in my immediate future. Good Grief. Why do all my posts seem to be about the fact that I shouldn't be posting, and all seem to end with intention of working? This weekend is also going to be swallowed up by Latin. *is morose*
Gaah. Will do filing, what fun. Bye, all.
Actually, have superpowers of Gothiness. Was walking along with Cat today, and a Greenpeace guy stepped towards us, but was eyelinered into submission and went away without interrupting us. Heh.
Problem, though, is that I have a bad habit of chewing my nails, and with black nail polish on, this can only lead eventually to disaster. As soon as I forget myself, I'm going to end up with black nail polish chips on my teeth. Ugh.
Interestingly, my history tutor asked if I'd changed my hair (felt special) and yet my sister asked me if I'd dyed it yet. Seems strange to me. Also the black dye has turned my red-that-has-now-faded-to-blonde streaks purple. Suspect will end up with mauve streaks in brown hair. Dread to think how this will look, although possibly will just look devastatingly cool.
On downside, have managed to get black/purple dye on couch cover, and also some clothing. Hopefully will wash out. Also, have not yet had personal stregth to wear cloak/cape thing to uni. But everyone's dressing up tomorrow, so will do so then. Will also attempt to talk Cat into wearing the fishnet tights with her outfit, as she's wearing a skirt. Seems pointless under my jeans. Only I'll know. I can know about them (and possibly derive some sort of gothic strength and smugness from the knowledge) more comfortably by not wearing them, but rather thinking about them periodically while they are in my room, and I wear comfy socks.
Am traitor to the "embrace pain" philosophy that, am given to understand, I ought to be, well, embracing. Feel that vampire bite marks are one thing, but that blisters on the heel lack that romantic edge, y'know?
In other news, think Tim might not have been joking re. having a thing about Goths. Keeps looking at me smittenly. Possibly, however, this is merely my own inimitible charm. Is that how inimitible is supposed to be spelled? or is it -able? Meh, you know what I mean. Charm, lots of it. That's me.
Also, went to Vivian's Birthday party picnic on Sunday, which was fun. Yay for that too.
Problem with this is that really should have spent weekend doing my Psych report, which is now due in tomorrow. Am slightly worried by this. Especially as was emailled sources through unimail, which I believe I've already expressed my thoughts about. Have downloaded all the readings and rashly deleted original mails. Now having difficulty getting computer to open files. Am staunchly not panicing as am still at work. Just wait till I get home. In retrospect, really should have gotten more sleep over last few days. Feel that staring out tired is bad plan.
Nooo! That song "2 princes" by the Spin Doctors, which is an absolute classic, was just begun on the radio, but then not played. Stupid Mix 106.whatever-their-decimal-is. Always feel that is a terrible thing to use bits of good songs as jingles. For a while Merrick and Rosso were using a riff from Cake's "Never There", an absolute classic, and rather a favourite of mine at the time, and I had it stuck in my head for about 2 months.
Oh, the patient with the incredibly irritatingly controlling mother who I complained about about a month ago is in again. Sans Mama. Wonderful.
I really need to keep writing this post in order to stave off the inevitable writing of report which lurks in my immediate future. Good Grief. Why do all my posts seem to be about the fact that I shouldn't be posting, and all seem to end with intention of working? This weekend is also going to be swallowed up by Latin. *is morose*
Gaah. Will do filing, what fun. Bye, all.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Exclusive! Underground conspiracy revealed!
It has come to my attention that there is an underground conspiracy regarding this blog. Realised this when wandered past Katie's room (With a K means it' my sister, not Cat) only to find her reading my blog, which I know for certain I have never goven her the addres of. Apparently she got it from Dan, from last post (hi, Dan, how are you?). Can only therefore assume that Tim gave it to him.
Does this seem odd at all to anyone else? That must have been the geekiest conversation ever.
"Dan: Hey Tim, apparently my girlfriend's sister knows you.
Tim: Oh, really? Who?
Dan: Angela Pardey.
Tim: Oh yes, I know her.
Dan: Does she have a website?
Tim: Yes, here it is."
Really, how does that come up? Or is it perhaps "yes, we go to uni together, her blog address is www.unhealthydraconism.blogspot.com" Not "and she has brown hair", not "she's quite nice", not "she has eyes which are most gorgeous than mine, damn her".
Possibly "yes, have you met her? Really? You have? You're very lucky, she's so charming and graceful [ha! -ed.] and witty. In fact, if you wish to bask in her golden presence and wit, maybe you should read her blog, it's the best blog ever."
I choose to believe this latter until I am otherwise informed.
Anyway, Hi Katie, hi Dan. Allow me to take this moment to express my gratitude to providence that I haven't slated either of you here with my vicious rhetoric. Sorry if I came off as dismissive of the two of you as individuals in my last post.
It's a terrible thing to be happily preparing to backstab someone and then havethem suddenly turned around, so to speak.
In other news, if Tim is handing out cards with my blog on it (which I don't actually object to, per se) why am I not in fact a net celebrity already? There's all the wealth of Sutehkiness for him to give cards to, and I'm just guessing that between them there's about 4 degrees of separation to the rest of the internet trawling population.
Really feel that he should be more thorough if he's going to do these things.
In other news, have bought a nicely versatile pair of jeans for next week, not black, but I can always tack on back lace if the fancy takes me.
In a fruitless search for my treasured dog collar today, which I bought in London and which has spikes of exactly the right shape, discovered forgotten strata of haematite jewellery, as well as any amount of black clothing, including a mesh top which I earnestly hope I never wore alone.
Was weirdly nostalgic and familiar.
This reminds me, I wonder where my huge black FMBs are? Couldn't wear them to uni, as completely impractical to walk so far in, but possibly could just wear them around the house on Sunday evening in order to add credence and sincerity to whole hair dying experience.
Will go and search. Have a pleasant Friday, of ye fans from far and wide.
Does this seem odd at all to anyone else? That must have been the geekiest conversation ever.
"Dan: Hey Tim, apparently my girlfriend's sister knows you.
Tim: Oh, really? Who?
Dan: Angela Pardey.
Tim: Oh yes, I know her.
Dan: Does she have a website?
Tim: Yes, here it is."
Really, how does that come up? Or is it perhaps "yes, we go to uni together, her blog address is www.unhealthydraconism.blogspot.com" Not "and she has brown hair", not "she's quite nice", not "she has eyes which are most gorgeous than mine, damn her".
Possibly "yes, have you met her? Really? You have? You're very lucky, she's so charming and graceful [ha! -ed.] and witty. In fact, if you wish to bask in her golden presence and wit, maybe you should read her blog, it's the best blog ever."
I choose to believe this latter until I am otherwise informed.
Anyway, Hi Katie, hi Dan. Allow me to take this moment to express my gratitude to providence that I haven't slated either of you here with my vicious rhetoric. Sorry if I came off as dismissive of the two of you as individuals in my last post.
It's a terrible thing to be happily preparing to backstab someone and then havethem suddenly turned around, so to speak.
In other news, if Tim is handing out cards with my blog on it (which I don't actually object to, per se) why am I not in fact a net celebrity already? There's all the wealth of Sutehkiness for him to give cards to, and I'm just guessing that between them there's about 4 degrees of separation to the rest of the internet trawling population.
Really feel that he should be more thorough if he's going to do these things.
In other news, have bought a nicely versatile pair of jeans for next week, not black, but I can always tack on back lace if the fancy takes me.
In a fruitless search for my treasured dog collar today, which I bought in London and which has spikes of exactly the right shape, discovered forgotten strata of haematite jewellery, as well as any amount of black clothing, including a mesh top which I earnestly hope I never wore alone.
Was weirdly nostalgic and familiar.
This reminds me, I wonder where my huge black FMBs are? Couldn't wear them to uni, as completely impractical to walk so far in, but possibly could just wear them around the house on Sunday evening in order to add credence and sincerity to whole hair dying experience.
Will go and search. Have a pleasant Friday, of ye fans from far and wide.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Uni email = satan, and not in a good way.
Our floor is being sanded at the moment, so I'm posting this from my room at my parent's house, as we are exiled from our own abode, tragically. This is most important to note due to the high reliability of the network connection. Yay or unbucaneered webness.
Conversely, Boo for the Bio report I have to hand in tomorrow. Boo for all such things.
As many of you will have noted, yesterday was the premier of Star Wars. It's still technically opening night now, but everybody who's anybody, and quite a few somebodies who are nobody, has seen it already. Personally, I haven't yet, but I understand that Light Sabers are intrinsically involved, and, insider tip, I hear someone called Anakin becomes, in some small way, evil. I hope I haven't ruined anything for you.
As an interesting and strange aside, my sister was on the phone this evening to her sometime boyfriend Dan, (whom I remember meeting back in the hazy and distant past once, when he was her boyfriend the first time around before he was replaced by an utterly charming young man named Nick who subsequently fell from grace by reason of living in Newcastle and having his HSC or something) aparently discussing this cinematic miracle. They both independently, as I understand, showed off about knowing (well, she met him once) someone called Tim who had had a light saber duel at a 12:30 showing of the movie yesterday. Leaving aside the tragedy this reveals of conversations among the youth of today, let us progress to the wierd bit. Same Tim. Yes indeed, my world is shrinking daily. All the disparate people I know from completely and utterly different areas of my life, all secretly know each other.
Clearly the world really is about me. I suspect a giant conspiracy of some kind.
Holy shit. Uni email is inundated with German spam, ridiculously, and therefore have missed the fact that may have outstanding payment due for uni. Am unable to find out how much, though. Panicpanicpanic. Deadline is tomorrow. So stressed, suddenly.
*deep, calming breaths* Should hopefully be ok, as long as I remember to pay it tomorrow.
Also, turns out that I'm supposed to submit an electronic copy of my bio report as well. How irritating.
I would just like to take this moment to express my deep and profound dislike and loathing of the university email system. The philosophy of "we won't tell you, you'll have to check your email 3 times a day in order to pass" is nasty and horrible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is me, distancing myself from all unimail-related stress.
Instead, I shall tell you that my preparations for gothism next week are continuing well, Have purchased sizeable quantity of black lace, as well as pale makeup.
Any time I feel ungothically upbeat, will pause to consider uni email and ride the wave of resentment.
Meanwhile, on withBio report writing!
Conversely, Boo for the Bio report I have to hand in tomorrow. Boo for all such things.
As many of you will have noted, yesterday was the premier of Star Wars. It's still technically opening night now, but everybody who's anybody, and quite a few somebodies who are nobody, has seen it already. Personally, I haven't yet, but I understand that Light Sabers are intrinsically involved, and, insider tip, I hear someone called Anakin becomes, in some small way, evil. I hope I haven't ruined anything for you.
As an interesting and strange aside, my sister was on the phone this evening to her sometime boyfriend Dan, (whom I remember meeting back in the hazy and distant past once, when he was her boyfriend the first time around before he was replaced by an utterly charming young man named Nick who subsequently fell from grace by reason of living in Newcastle and having his HSC or something) aparently discussing this cinematic miracle. They both independently, as I understand, showed off about knowing (well, she met him once) someone called Tim who had had a light saber duel at a 12:30 showing of the movie yesterday. Leaving aside the tragedy this reveals of conversations among the youth of today, let us progress to the wierd bit. Same Tim. Yes indeed, my world is shrinking daily. All the disparate people I know from completely and utterly different areas of my life, all secretly know each other.
Clearly the world really is about me. I suspect a giant conspiracy of some kind.
Holy shit. Uni email is inundated with German spam, ridiculously, and therefore have missed the fact that may have outstanding payment due for uni. Am unable to find out how much, though. Panicpanicpanic. Deadline is tomorrow. So stressed, suddenly.
*deep, calming breaths* Should hopefully be ok, as long as I remember to pay it tomorrow.
Also, turns out that I'm supposed to submit an electronic copy of my bio report as well. How irritating.
I would just like to take this moment to express my deep and profound dislike and loathing of the university email system. The philosophy of "we won't tell you, you'll have to check your email 3 times a day in order to pass" is nasty and horrible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is me, distancing myself from all unimail-related stress.
Instead, I shall tell you that my preparations for gothism next week are continuing well, Have purchased sizeable quantity of black lace, as well as pale makeup.
Any time I feel ungothically upbeat, will pause to consider uni email and ride the wave of resentment.
Meanwhile, on withBio report writing!
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Gluttony Week continues in high form!
Dammit, I thought of something I wanted to write here on the way to work, and now it's gone.
So, this, the second day of Gluttony week, has continued in the fine tradition of yesterday:
due to my/our excessive guilt-tripping of Tim for missing Tea yesterday, he brought a cake in today! Yay.
This week is Gluttony week, I should probably explain, as an indirect result of the gay rights movement. Some weeks ago, as you will doubtless have forgotten, was Pride Week. Calling on all those of us with same sex tendencies to be proud of them, although mysteriously, those of us without them were not called on to be proud of that. [is this discrimination of the there's-a-special-women's-room-but-no-such-room-for-men variety?].
Anyway, the next week, people seemed grumpy, so we officially dubbed that Wrath week, and have since been working our way through the deadly sins, one week at a time. Last week we celebrated Envy, and this week is Gluttony.
Everyone seems worryingly excited about next week, Lust week. Feel that us all being proud or grumpy or envious together, or us all eating excessively this week, may perhaps not translate so well to Lust.
We could get banned from Manning.
Then where would we find couches on which to recline in Sloth week?
Possibly we should just play spin the bottle? But have no real wish to do so. Feel that would be a terrible thing to kiss Cat. [No offense, Cat] Not for anyone else, you understand, I'm sure she's great, although she does have a cold at the moment, but I personally, feel that it could only result in weirdness. Would break the cardinal rule of flatmate-hood for a start.
Bizarrely, I feel that this would be less the case with others. Cannot see kissing Bec resulting in awkwardness to same degree. Dodgy jokes, mind you, quite probably.
Obviously can barely contain my excitement at idea of kissing Sam. Baby.
Will now move on, as feel that this is not a constructive mental exercise.
Plan, possibly in time for Greed Week, to learn to be excellent at Gothic Calligraphy script, in order to have an excuse to buy (in a greedy way) this cool book I saw yesterday. There's a shop in the QVB called Florentine['s (?)] which sells cool calligraphy pens, and leather-bound notebooks. Have fallen in lust with a leather bound one with metal corners, and a cool clasp. Wantwantwant.
Aaargh, the radio is advertising the new episode of the Simpsons this evening as "the episode that split a nation: which of your favourite Simpsons characters [ominous drop in tone] IS GAY?". First of all, the TV guide says who it is (Patty? Selma? I can't recall which). Second of all, we knew that. Third of all, I rather resent, as a free thinking individual who was there at Pride week a few weeks ago, attempting to feel proud enough to be seen as participating, but not so proud as to cause offence, the implication of the tone of voice that the character has betrayed us by being gay. So silly.
Astoundingly difficult to find the Gothis script I want on the internet. Possibly could hold Ivy at knife-point until she writes me an alphabet? Surely worth a try, anyway.
At any rate, I had better do some filing to keep up appearances, so I shall write again anon. Here's hoping tomorrow has more clement weather.
So, this, the second day of Gluttony week, has continued in the fine tradition of yesterday:
due to my/our excessive guilt-tripping of Tim for missing Tea yesterday, he brought a cake in today! Yay.
This week is Gluttony week, I should probably explain, as an indirect result of the gay rights movement. Some weeks ago, as you will doubtless have forgotten, was Pride Week. Calling on all those of us with same sex tendencies to be proud of them, although mysteriously, those of us without them were not called on to be proud of that. [is this discrimination of the there's-a-special-women's-room-but-no-such-room-for-men variety?].
Anyway, the next week, people seemed grumpy, so we officially dubbed that Wrath week, and have since been working our way through the deadly sins, one week at a time. Last week we celebrated Envy, and this week is Gluttony.
Everyone seems worryingly excited about next week, Lust week. Feel that us all being proud or grumpy or envious together, or us all eating excessively this week, may perhaps not translate so well to Lust.
We could get banned from Manning.
Then where would we find couches on which to recline in Sloth week?
Possibly we should just play spin the bottle? But have no real wish to do so. Feel that would be a terrible thing to kiss Cat. [No offense, Cat] Not for anyone else, you understand, I'm sure she's great, although she does have a cold at the moment, but I personally, feel that it could only result in weirdness. Would break the cardinal rule of flatmate-hood for a start.
Bizarrely, I feel that this would be less the case with others. Cannot see kissing Bec resulting in awkwardness to same degree. Dodgy jokes, mind you, quite probably.
Obviously can barely contain my excitement at idea of kissing Sam. Baby.
Will now move on, as feel that this is not a constructive mental exercise.
Plan, possibly in time for Greed Week, to learn to be excellent at Gothic Calligraphy script, in order to have an excuse to buy (in a greedy way) this cool book I saw yesterday. There's a shop in the QVB called Florentine['s (?)] which sells cool calligraphy pens, and leather-bound notebooks. Have fallen in lust with a leather bound one with metal corners, and a cool clasp. Wantwantwant.
Aaargh, the radio is advertising the new episode of the Simpsons this evening as "the episode that split a nation: which of your favourite Simpsons characters [ominous drop in tone] IS GAY?". First of all, the TV guide says who it is (Patty? Selma? I can't recall which). Second of all, we knew that. Third of all, I rather resent, as a free thinking individual who was there at Pride week a few weeks ago, attempting to feel proud enough to be seen as participating, but not so proud as to cause offence, the implication of the tone of voice that the character has betrayed us by being gay. So silly.
Astoundingly difficult to find the Gothis script I want on the internet. Possibly could hold Ivy at knife-point until she writes me an alphabet? Surely worth a try, anyway.
At any rate, I had better do some filing to keep up appearances, so I shall write again anon. Here's hoping tomorrow has more clement weather.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Tea and Bogart
Today was the day of the First Tea Quest. First, I rather hope, of at least, well, like 2. Maybe more? Yay for more!
The tea was nice, the little sandwiches were the right size, the adorable cakes and so on were melting and delicious, and the scones were sconified. Mmm...
So, if anyone had happened to, for instance, almost come but then forget and get themselves rostered on at work, and then selfishly refuse to sleep with their boss in order to secure a shift swap, then that person would have really missed out. And, had they mysteriously received a torrent of abusive text messages, I would be sad to hear it, but I'm sure that they would, hypothetically, have deserved it.
I think we should do it (the tea quest, you understand) again some time.
Also, tomorrow, the Beatles are on the Ed Sullivan show at 7:30pm on channel 7. Presumably it's taped, I would assume, given that half the Beatles and, I rather suspect, Ed Sullivan, are tragically dead.
Had a long conversation in my Latin class re. the Beatles this morning, everyone but me likes the later songs, when they were all stoned and so on. Personally I much prefer 'I'm Happy Just To Dance With You', and 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand', et cetera. Was mildly surreal, actually, as conversations go.
Frustrated at the moment, that no matter what I do, I always seem to be dead on my feet with tiredness. So so sleepy all the time. So tired of waking up tired and so on. Have figured that have an essay due just about every weekend until Stuvac, and then exams, and then will leave to go skiing the day after the exams end. The net result of which is that I have no mornings on which to sleep in uninterrupted until I happen to wake up in the foreseeable future.
This is the most distressing concept I've come across since I was told that 80% of married couples had met by the time they turned twenty. That's August. (!) Ticktockticktock...
Good God, am getting Bridget Jones looks about my romantic future while I'm still a teenager.
This is not to say that I am particularly enamoured of the idea of getting married any time in the next 10 years, but I'd rather put off the sympathetic it's-too-late-for-you looks for perhaps a little while.
So ridiculous. Something is wrong with our culture, people who get married are regarded as having settled for second best, and people who don't get married are regarded with pity and scorn.
How the hell did I end up complaining about our culture? Good grief. I'll be happy living with a reasonably affectionate goldfish, in all honesty. Possibly a ridiculously obedient dog, who I only have to look after when I feel like it, and which I don't have to train.
Much less complicated. Also adorably furry (a trait more desirable in pets than people). Keep your feet warm in winter, too, I shouldn't wonder.
Watching 'To Have And Have Not'. Lauren Bacall was my age when she asked Humphrey Bogart if he could whistle. This seems weird to me. Such an age gap (and they got married in real life too). A bit like Elijah Wood in LOTR at 18. I'm past it! *wails*
Also, I can't whistle, and I could never bring myself to destroy valuable jewellery. Am not cut out to be Lauren Bacall (don't know what her character's name it, he just calls her Slim) or Frodo. Will just have to gather the scraps of my wretched life (what's left of it, now, in my dotage) and live the rest of my short life out tragically.
Wish to grow up to be Lauren Bacall, but with adorable low maintenance pet, rather than Bogart. Do not find him attractive in the least. Wouldn't find pet attractive either, but then we would both know where we stood, whereas Bogart has a tendency to stand dramatically in front of blinds and call you a dame as if you were fatally attracted to him.
How irritating in a spouse.
Also, tends to kiss "dames" whether they like it or not (although they inevitably eventually do like) in a back-ache inducing manner, bending them oddly over his arm. Strikes me as unnecessarily domineering.
Therefore, will not marry Humphrey Bogart. Glad to have sorted that out. Now we all know.
So if he calls, tell him that I've thought about it, and am touched, really, but no. Further that I would never go out with a heavy smoker, and that will scare him right off.
My blog posts always seem to end up weirdly. This concerns me.
Oh, do you think there's any way that I could have mittens, wear them to uni, and still manage to look classy? Suspect not. Pity, as my hands are cold as of three days ago, and in my experience, they won't be warm again until September. Stupid cold hands.
Actually, in my History tutorial today, I decided to make myself a muff (withhold the jokes, if you please) to keep them warm. Not sure how well it would work, whether I can be bothered, or whether it would be irritating to carry around all the time, though. Possibly it would just be one more thing to carry?
Meh, who knows. Will finish here, since am told that my posts are excessively long. What happened to enjoying my virtual company, eh? Ingrates.
P.S. Turns out that the mysterious commenter was my Dad. Huh Typical. Knew I wouldn’t get to be e net celebrity. *sulks*
The tea was nice, the little sandwiches were the right size, the adorable cakes and so on were melting and delicious, and the scones were sconified. Mmm...
So, if anyone had happened to, for instance, almost come but then forget and get themselves rostered on at work, and then selfishly refuse to sleep with their boss in order to secure a shift swap, then that person would have really missed out. And, had they mysteriously received a torrent of abusive text messages, I would be sad to hear it, but I'm sure that they would, hypothetically, have deserved it.
I think we should do it (the tea quest, you understand) again some time.
Also, tomorrow, the Beatles are on the Ed Sullivan show at 7:30pm on channel 7. Presumably it's taped, I would assume, given that half the Beatles and, I rather suspect, Ed Sullivan, are tragically dead.
Had a long conversation in my Latin class re. the Beatles this morning, everyone but me likes the later songs, when they were all stoned and so on. Personally I much prefer 'I'm Happy Just To Dance With You', and 'I Wanna Hold Your Hand', et cetera. Was mildly surreal, actually, as conversations go.
Frustrated at the moment, that no matter what I do, I always seem to be dead on my feet with tiredness. So so sleepy all the time. So tired of waking up tired and so on. Have figured that have an essay due just about every weekend until Stuvac, and then exams, and then will leave to go skiing the day after the exams end. The net result of which is that I have no mornings on which to sleep in uninterrupted until I happen to wake up in the foreseeable future.
This is the most distressing concept I've come across since I was told that 80% of married couples had met by the time they turned twenty. That's August. (!) Ticktockticktock...
Good God, am getting Bridget Jones looks about my romantic future while I'm still a teenager.
This is not to say that I am particularly enamoured of the idea of getting married any time in the next 10 years, but I'd rather put off the sympathetic it's-too-late-for-you looks for perhaps a little while.
So ridiculous. Something is wrong with our culture, people who get married are regarded as having settled for second best, and people who don't get married are regarded with pity and scorn.
How the hell did I end up complaining about our culture? Good grief. I'll be happy living with a reasonably affectionate goldfish, in all honesty. Possibly a ridiculously obedient dog, who I only have to look after when I feel like it, and which I don't have to train.
Much less complicated. Also adorably furry (a trait more desirable in pets than people). Keep your feet warm in winter, too, I shouldn't wonder.
Watching 'To Have And Have Not'. Lauren Bacall was my age when she asked Humphrey Bogart if he could whistle. This seems weird to me. Such an age gap (and they got married in real life too). A bit like Elijah Wood in LOTR at 18. I'm past it! *wails*
Also, I can't whistle, and I could never bring myself to destroy valuable jewellery. Am not cut out to be Lauren Bacall (don't know what her character's name it, he just calls her Slim) or Frodo. Will just have to gather the scraps of my wretched life (what's left of it, now, in my dotage) and live the rest of my short life out tragically.
Wish to grow up to be Lauren Bacall, but with adorable low maintenance pet, rather than Bogart. Do not find him attractive in the least. Wouldn't find pet attractive either, but then we would both know where we stood, whereas Bogart has a tendency to stand dramatically in front of blinds and call you a dame as if you were fatally attracted to him.
How irritating in a spouse.
Also, tends to kiss "dames" whether they like it or not (although they inevitably eventually do like) in a back-ache inducing manner, bending them oddly over his arm. Strikes me as unnecessarily domineering.
Therefore, will not marry Humphrey Bogart. Glad to have sorted that out. Now we all know.
So if he calls, tell him that I've thought about it, and am touched, really, but no. Further that I would never go out with a heavy smoker, and that will scare him right off.
My blog posts always seem to end up weirdly. This concerns me.
Oh, do you think there's any way that I could have mittens, wear them to uni, and still manage to look classy? Suspect not. Pity, as my hands are cold as of three days ago, and in my experience, they won't be warm again until September. Stupid cold hands.
Actually, in my History tutorial today, I decided to make myself a muff (withhold the jokes, if you please) to keep them warm. Not sure how well it would work, whether I can be bothered, or whether it would be irritating to carry around all the time, though. Possibly it would just be one more thing to carry?
Meh, who knows. Will finish here, since am told that my posts are excessively long. What happened to enjoying my virtual company, eh? Ingrates.
P.S. Turns out that the mysterious commenter was my Dad. Huh Typical. Knew I wouldn’t get to be e net celebrity. *sulks*
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Second day of filming
I'm sooo bored. Would v. much like to go home and nap. Stupid Blasted Felix. *grumpy*
In other news, YAY! I found my other earring! Well. It was found this morning, anyway.
Cunningly hidden on the corner of the kitchen bnch. Am too tired to type. Wish to sleep/kill BF on waking. Jeah.
Remember, tea tomorrow!
Oh, and feeding seven year olds coke see,s to be a bad idea. Frankly, I don't think I'm cut out for parenting anytime soon. (and I'm Catie by the way, Angi dealt much better.) It was tempting to leave him in the darkroom, which he seemed to enjoy enough. He would have fun, we wouldn't have to deal with him, all good. Will stop hijacking Angi's blog now. And Smile!
In other news, YAY! I found my other earring! Well. It was found this morning, anyway.
Cunningly hidden on the corner of the kitchen bnch. Am too tired to type. Wish to sleep/kill BF on waking. Jeah.
Remember, tea tomorrow!
Oh, and feeding seven year olds coke see,s to be a bad idea. Frankly, I don't think I'm cut out for parenting anytime soon. (and I'm Catie by the way, Angi dealt much better.) It was tempting to leave him in the darkroom, which he seemed to enjoy enough. He would have fun, we wouldn't have to deal with him, all good. Will stop hijacking Angi's blog now. And Smile!
1at day of filming with Blasted Felix, as he will hereinafter be known
So, today, we catered for Blasted Felix’s [ so called becasue of his comandeerig my weekend, when I have assignments, and the only weekend in past or foreseeable future without a major assignment due on the following Monday] film shoot for the first day, and apparently we were ok. Rather amusing incident a few days ago, his film, and here I shall spoil his plot twist, relies on the concept of several different actors all playing the same man at different points in his life. Problem was that the guy playing him at 20 completely failed to let Blasted Felix know that he was black. Can’t help but feel that given that the script, which he’d read, described him as Caucasian, he should perhaps have mentioned this at some point prior to the day before the shoot.
More importantly, we discovered, or rather, I discovered, the coolest door in the world. It looks exactly like a time machine entry, and is round. So you step into this circular chamber which is just big enough for one standing person, and then you twist the front around in front of you, so you’re completely enclosed in this dark cylinder, and then it opens behind you, and there’s a dark room, which is pretty small, but when you turn the lights off, it’s utterly, completely, unimaginably dark. Sooo cool. I have a skylight in my bedroom, so it’s never really dark, but in that room, you couldn’t tell whether your eyes were open or closed.
Maybe you guys think that sounds freaky, but I rather thought it was beyond cool. In my castle, I shall have one, only instead of writing “dark room” above the door, I shall put a sign labelled “dematerialisation chamber” or similar. So when I step in, close the circle, step out, and then open it again, people will think that I’ve teleported far away, or possibly gone back in time or similar.
Oh NO. Have lost one of my highly treasured, favourite, silver Celtic knot earrings. Am devastated, distressed and distraught. Also sad and grumpy.
Earlier today our film careers were tragically cut short in their very dawning. Cat and I were supposed to be extras in Blasted Felix’s movie, and walk across the background. However, when we walked onto the set, apparently we (and this is a direct quote) so “lit up the screen” distracting from the main characters, that we were cut. We are just that luminous. Of course back then I had my earrings, and so it’s hardly surprising. Or possibly the fact that they were having difficulty with light reflectivity and were were dressed palely.
Will be extras tomorrow, though, I understand. They will then be prepared for our staggering beauty.
Speaking of our staggering beauty, am toying with the idea of dying my hair black for a week, and wearing heavy makeup. Plan to make everyone call me Raven, and possibly speak in a monotone about death/join the Socialist Alternative.
Oh, a Mysterious Person has posted on my blog! Who is this “john”? The only John who I can think of has Bruce as his handle. Perhaps am net celebrity already? Will be beloved by the masses of people unable to spell the word truly across the globe! Yes!
More importantly, we discovered, or rather, I discovered, the coolest door in the world. It looks exactly like a time machine entry, and is round. So you step into this circular chamber which is just big enough for one standing person, and then you twist the front around in front of you, so you’re completely enclosed in this dark cylinder, and then it opens behind you, and there’s a dark room, which is pretty small, but when you turn the lights off, it’s utterly, completely, unimaginably dark. Sooo cool. I have a skylight in my bedroom, so it’s never really dark, but in that room, you couldn’t tell whether your eyes were open or closed.
Maybe you guys think that sounds freaky, but I rather thought it was beyond cool. In my castle, I shall have one, only instead of writing “dark room” above the door, I shall put a sign labelled “dematerialisation chamber” or similar. So when I step in, close the circle, step out, and then open it again, people will think that I’ve teleported far away, or possibly gone back in time or similar.
Oh NO. Have lost one of my highly treasured, favourite, silver Celtic knot earrings. Am devastated, distressed and distraught. Also sad and grumpy.
Earlier today our film careers were tragically cut short in their very dawning. Cat and I were supposed to be extras in Blasted Felix’s movie, and walk across the background. However, when we walked onto the set, apparently we (and this is a direct quote) so “lit up the screen” distracting from the main characters, that we were cut. We are just that luminous. Of course back then I had my earrings, and so it’s hardly surprising. Or possibly the fact that they were having difficulty with light reflectivity and were were dressed palely.
Will be extras tomorrow, though, I understand. They will then be prepared for our staggering beauty.
Speaking of our staggering beauty, am toying with the idea of dying my hair black for a week, and wearing heavy makeup. Plan to make everyone call me Raven, and possibly speak in a monotone about death/join the Socialist Alternative.
Oh, a Mysterious Person has posted on my blog! Who is this “john”? The only John who I can think of has Bruce as his handle. Perhaps am net celebrity already? Will be beloved by the masses of people unable to spell the word truly across the globe! Yes!
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
Kingdom of Heaven: a rant/review with spoilers
In short: bad movie, brutally hot (to quote clueless) lead.
He was even better looking than in Pirates, I really think. But otherwise, the movie was kind of... crap.
I'll elaborate in the very style of the movie:
Abrubt.
Disjointed.
Lacking character development, quality dialogue and coherent narrative motivation. Spent much of the movie saying "what? why did she do that?" (well, a couple of times)
3...2...1... *insert rousing speech here* , and much aphorising.
A perfectly sinless knight having it off with another man's wife, and refusing to look at the greater good and be sensible.
A blacksmith who suddenly and for no apparent reason becomes a brilliant military tactician.
"Here I am, in the crusades, bloody, battered, dirty, with perfect hair, teeth and eyeliner"
"Here I am, fighting for redemption, which I now don't believe in, against the Muslims, who I respect and don't want to kill, to save the city, which I want to abandon and save the people within, but which I will first fight a pitched battle over, rather than departing with the people now, and leaving Saladin a note that reads' the key is under the doormat, please feed the cat, garbage night is Thursdays' or similar."
A guy comes to a dessicated farm, from France, where water isn't an issue, and says "What say we build a well, then, and complicated irrigation system that I could have no knowledge of, even though you people have lived here for thousands of years?"
Peasants: "Oh yeah, hey then we could stop dying of dehydration. Why didn't we think of this?"
"Well, don't beat yourself up, we can't all be naive-blacksmith-cum-military-and-agricultural-geniuses, you know."
Peasants: "Yay! now take off your shirt! Yay!"
A lady who arrives and says give me water and then is like "my mouth says thanks for the water, my eyes say kiss me, you mad rash fool, and take off your shirt while you're about it."
And why was he sleeping with her anyway? He could do better, they had nothing in common except prettiness, and she was not that pretty and of completely out of context appearance. (I'm not bitter, I have no problem with a love interest, but for god's sake, develop somewhere.)
And why was she sleeping with him? He didn't seem to do anything except smoulder at her a bit... oh no wait, I withdraw that objection, carry on.
It was like "hello, let's have sudden and abrupt sex, which we might or might not continue doing, who knows". Was that a continuing relationship or a one-off thing? I don't know, and I saw the whole movie. Was it love or lust? Does she do this with every really, really, ridiculously good-looking ex-blacksmith who happens her way, or is this special and meaningful and so on?
David Thewlis, who plays Professor Lupin in Harry Potter, was in it. And that just seemed wierd to me, especially after some fanfic I read last week.... hmmm...
Jeremy Irons has a really coooollll voice, really, and the most character development, but screen time of a grand total of probably 10 minutes. And he abruptly left and went to Cyprus at one point, without warning, and was never seen or mentioned again. Abruptness much?
Still, Jeremy Irons, Scar from the Lion King, had an identical lower-case-scar in this movie, and Orlando Bloom was the Honourable Blacksmith again. Even had some of the same lines. And the bad guy was Celeborn from LOTR. And Liam Neeson was just so Qui Gon that it wasn't funny.
I mean, yay for intetextuality and all, but really. Calm down, there. People will start calling you derivative, just you wait.
Derivative.
See?
Takes itself really altogether too seriously.
Someone caught fire and burned painfully to death in the first 5 minutes. I hate that in a movie. You really need to work up to it, if you're going to do it at all, and preferably not even then.
Mind you, the guy who was burned had perfect lower and back teeth and carefully authenticated front 4 teeth, yellow and cracked. Good grief, did they not actually look at the guy at all before they filmed/set fire to him?
Pity that he was burned up, really, or they could perhaps have fixed them and done another take.
People fighting on through inevitably and instantly fatal wounds, while others died of a scratch. Scenes of "dear god, what an awful wound you have there, how traumatic." followed by complete lack of follow through and scar tissue. An inexplicable facial scar appearing halfway through the movie, never inflicted, moving around the face, but clearly of moderate age, so it had to have been inflicted during the duration of the movie.
I'll stop now, or no-one will read this.
All in all, an enjoyable enough movie, but don't expect quality. Although the hairdresser deserves some kind of award probably.
And, like I said... mmm... pretty...
He was even better looking than in Pirates, I really think. But otherwise, the movie was kind of... crap.
I'll elaborate in the very style of the movie:
Abrubt.
Disjointed.
Lacking character development, quality dialogue and coherent narrative motivation. Spent much of the movie saying "what? why did she do that?" (well, a couple of times)
3...2...1... *insert rousing speech here* , and much aphorising.
A perfectly sinless knight having it off with another man's wife, and refusing to look at the greater good and be sensible.
A blacksmith who suddenly and for no apparent reason becomes a brilliant military tactician.
"Here I am, in the crusades, bloody, battered, dirty, with perfect hair, teeth and eyeliner"
"Here I am, fighting for redemption, which I now don't believe in, against the Muslims, who I respect and don't want to kill, to save the city, which I want to abandon and save the people within, but which I will first fight a pitched battle over, rather than departing with the people now, and leaving Saladin a note that reads' the key is under the doormat, please feed the cat, garbage night is Thursdays' or similar."
A guy comes to a dessicated farm, from France, where water isn't an issue, and says "What say we build a well, then, and complicated irrigation system that I could have no knowledge of, even though you people have lived here for thousands of years?"
Peasants: "Oh yeah, hey then we could stop dying of dehydration. Why didn't we think of this?"
"Well, don't beat yourself up, we can't all be naive-blacksmith-cum-military-and-agricultural-geniuses, you know."
Peasants: "Yay! now take off your shirt! Yay!"
A lady who arrives and says give me water and then is like "my mouth says thanks for the water, my eyes say kiss me, you mad rash fool, and take off your shirt while you're about it."
And why was he sleeping with her anyway? He could do better, they had nothing in common except prettiness, and she was not that pretty and of completely out of context appearance. (I'm not bitter, I have no problem with a love interest, but for god's sake, develop somewhere.)
And why was she sleeping with him? He didn't seem to do anything except smoulder at her a bit... oh no wait, I withdraw that objection, carry on.
It was like "hello, let's have sudden and abrupt sex, which we might or might not continue doing, who knows". Was that a continuing relationship or a one-off thing? I don't know, and I saw the whole movie. Was it love or lust? Does she do this with every really, really, ridiculously good-looking ex-blacksmith who happens her way, or is this special and meaningful and so on?
David Thewlis, who plays Professor Lupin in Harry Potter, was in it. And that just seemed wierd to me, especially after some fanfic I read last week.... hmmm...
Jeremy Irons has a really coooollll voice, really, and the most character development, but screen time of a grand total of probably 10 minutes. And he abruptly left and went to Cyprus at one point, without warning, and was never seen or mentioned again. Abruptness much?
Still, Jeremy Irons, Scar from the Lion King, had an identical lower-case-scar in this movie, and Orlando Bloom was the Honourable Blacksmith again. Even had some of the same lines. And the bad guy was Celeborn from LOTR. And Liam Neeson was just so Qui Gon that it wasn't funny.
I mean, yay for intetextuality and all, but really. Calm down, there. People will start calling you derivative, just you wait.
Derivative.
See?
Takes itself really altogether too seriously.
Someone caught fire and burned painfully to death in the first 5 minutes. I hate that in a movie. You really need to work up to it, if you're going to do it at all, and preferably not even then.
Mind you, the guy who was burned had perfect lower and back teeth and carefully authenticated front 4 teeth, yellow and cracked. Good grief, did they not actually look at the guy at all before they filmed/set fire to him?
Pity that he was burned up, really, or they could perhaps have fixed them and done another take.
People fighting on through inevitably and instantly fatal wounds, while others died of a scratch. Scenes of "dear god, what an awful wound you have there, how traumatic." followed by complete lack of follow through and scar tissue. An inexplicable facial scar appearing halfway through the movie, never inflicted, moving around the face, but clearly of moderate age, so it had to have been inflicted during the duration of the movie.
I'll stop now, or no-one will read this.
All in all, an enjoyable enough movie, but don't expect quality. Although the hairdresser deserves some kind of award probably.
And, like I said... mmm... pretty...
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Oh my god, we're ridiculously late at work,I'll probably be here for hours yet, and the patients are getting more and more irate. We're booked until 6:30, it's 6 now, and we just saw the patient with the 1:30pm appointment. And of course, he's just been called to the hospital. And the accounting proceedure's been changed again and I can't work it, so the patients are angrier, because no-one's told me that they've overhaulled everything before they wandered off home. AND, Meg, who sometimes works at my desk, since there are 4 of us on shifts at the three-seat front desk, has TAKEN THE ARMS OFF MY CHAIR. And I don't know where they are, or how to reattatch them. I keep trying to lean on them and nearly falling off my chair. I would very dearly like to thump her.
Or throw all the patients out. And thump her. But she isn't here, which is probably a good thing. Since it's also Meg who organises the accounting and is thus responsible for my confusion as well.
Feel the barely contained aggression. The "Hello, Angela speaking, may I help you?" spoken on answering the phone is getting more and more strained and teeth-gritted.
Oh yes, on top of all that, I'll be here past 8, and the radio station's unchangeable, and I have no CDs, so I'll have to listen to Love Song Dedications. The most irritatating radio show on earth? Why yes, I agree! It sure is.
And the patients at the end of the day, who ought to know better, and who were told to call first, because we IalwaysI tell people to call first, are just rocking up and saying "shall I go in?" and similar. Frigging idiots.
Ahem. Just so you all know, I work for a Dr. Smith in Blacktown. Not any other doctor. So only if you're a patient of Dr. Smith ought you get upset.
Oh, and now the computer won't accept payments. Am torn between (1) killing everything within 3 mile radius, (2) killing self, (3)breaking down in tears, or (4)taking a deep calming breath and getting on with it in a cool and efficient.
A near thing, but 4 won out over 3 by, believe me, a very narrow margin. Nothing else better go wrong this evening or I am going to overreact to whatever it is in a truly staggering fashion. *focuses on breathing*
On the upside, [that took ages to write, I kid you not, every time I typed a letter, someone would interrupt me. It is now 45 minutes later]...on the upside, tomorrow is Wednesday, Kingdom Of Heaven day. Haven't been to the movies forever, except for HG2G a few weeks ago, obviously.
Or throw all the patients out. And thump her. But she isn't here, which is probably a good thing. Since it's also Meg who organises the accounting and is thus responsible for my confusion as well.
Feel the barely contained aggression. The "Hello, Angela speaking, may I help you?" spoken on answering the phone is getting more and more strained and teeth-gritted.
Oh yes, on top of all that, I'll be here past 8, and the radio station's unchangeable, and I have no CDs, so I'll have to listen to Love Song Dedications. The most irritatating radio show on earth? Why yes, I agree! It sure is.
And the patients at the end of the day, who ought to know better, and who were told to call first, because we IalwaysI tell people to call first, are just rocking up and saying "shall I go in?" and similar. Frigging idiots.
Ahem. Just so you all know, I work for a Dr. Smith in Blacktown. Not any other doctor. So only if you're a patient of Dr. Smith ought you get upset.
Oh, and now the computer won't accept payments. Am torn between (1) killing everything within 3 mile radius, (2) killing self, (3)breaking down in tears, or (4)taking a deep calming breath and getting on with it in a cool and efficient.
A near thing, but 4 won out over 3 by, believe me, a very narrow margin. Nothing else better go wrong this evening or I am going to overreact to whatever it is in a truly staggering fashion. *focuses on breathing*
On the upside, [that took ages to write, I kid you not, every time I typed a letter, someone would interrupt me. It is now 45 minutes later]...on the upside, tomorrow is Wednesday, Kingdom Of Heaven day. Haven't been to the movies forever, except for HG2G a few weeks ago, obviously.
Ok, it's all calmed down now, at 8:30, and the patients that are left have become stoic. Brilliant.
Have a pleasant night, guys.
Sunday, May 08, 2005
Sickness is the enemy of Urbanitas
Have been reading my nasty essay sources, and therefore catch myself thinking in Communist Slogans (cf. title). 'Happiness is impossible without work' was Engels or someone, I think. And so you have 'Work is impossible without tea'.
V. much feel for Arthur Dent, trapped in space and unable to get tea. Poor, poor man. How is anyone supposed to cope without tea? Especially in his situation. They didn't even have Coke to fall back on.
Also, it turns out, Internet Access is the Enemy of Getting On With Your Essay. Not much I can do about that, though, really, I need to work on my laptop, and it automatically links itself to any nearby network. This is brought to you, ladies and gentelmen, courtesy of the buccaneered internet of our next-door neighbours. I wouldn't go asfar as to call it 'pirated,' though. It happens automatically.
At least this way I have access to that bastion if the history-source reader, http://dictionary.reference.com . Now I, too, can remind myself what prosopographic means, and confirm the spelling of impossible words. I always have difficulty with "bureaucracy", for instance. I have this odd urge to put the e's and a's (sorry about apostrohpising by plurals there... there isn't much t be done about it, though) before the r. Sort of 'Beaurocracy'-like. I rarely get it wrong, but I have to think about it every time I write it. You don't think about the spelling of words, usually do you? It just comes out, because you know the shape of it.
See what I mean? I'm just blathering. Internet really is the enemy of work. Also, none of this is very good, hence 'sickness is the enemy of urbanitas". I do like the latin form of that word better. 'Urbanitas' sounds it, is onomatopoeic in a way (see, and I had no trouble with 'onomatopoeic'. Although I inexplicably spelt "with "eith" just then. Oh, w and e are next to each other. Ignore me, then), whereas urbane-ness or whatever is all wrong. Ditto Auctoritas, and, to a lesser extent, Veritas.
It's hard to be smoothly witty when your head and ears and throat and nose are all non-functional. Not that I'm claiming to be smotthly witty anyway, you understand, but that it's completely impossible with a nasty head cold. Also I bit my tongue really hard yesterday morning, and it still hurts. *whinges*
Feel that it is unjust to get sick the day before a major essay is due. Because all you want to do is get some rest and recuperate, but you can't, because you have a shitload of work to do. And you can't go "I'm sick, stuff it" because you should have done it weeks ago. If you were a good, efficient, dedicated student, you could be resting. Its only 11:30am. You could be still asleep. Jeah. Except, of course, you wouldn't be, because good and dedicated student who do all their assignments as soon as they get them are the sorts of wankers who get up at 7am on a Sunday morning so as to "get the most out of the day". Probably do something "brisk" like jog around the bay, or something.
Conversely, wouldn't such a person be doing the essays that they were assigned recently? or studying or something? Perhaps there is no possible universe in which I could be asleep right now? Oooh... deep.
It seems strange to me that my essay sources can be both fascinating and boring at the same time, that I can feel like I'm working and procrastinating at the same time. Although I suspect that actually I'm procrastinating awfully. Feel the power of the female to multitask. If you aren't doing at least three things at any given time, then really, what's the point?
Gaaahh.....
In other news, I've calculated that a trip to Jenolan Caves from here, especially if we had to go via, oh, say, Central station, Longeville, and the M2, and back, via, for instance Lilyfield/Longeville/Lilyfield again, would be more than 500 km, and consume more than 50L of petrol. Good grief. Good thing that I'm writing my essay today, not driving there. Although I do imagine it would be an absolutely great day.
And now, to the essay. Holy Long Boring Articles, Batman!
Blasted Feminist writers.
V. much feel for Arthur Dent, trapped in space and unable to get tea. Poor, poor man. How is anyone supposed to cope without tea? Especially in his situation. They didn't even have Coke to fall back on.
Also, it turns out, Internet Access is the Enemy of Getting On With Your Essay. Not much I can do about that, though, really, I need to work on my laptop, and it automatically links itself to any nearby network. This is brought to you, ladies and gentelmen, courtesy of the buccaneered internet of our next-door neighbours. I wouldn't go asfar as to call it 'pirated,' though. It happens automatically.
At least this way I have access to that bastion if the history-source reader, http://dictionary.reference.com . Now I, too, can remind myself what prosopographic means, and confirm the spelling of impossible words. I always have difficulty with "bureaucracy", for instance. I have this odd urge to put the e's and a's (sorry about apostrohpising by plurals there... there isn't much t be done about it, though) before the r. Sort of 'Beaurocracy'-like. I rarely get it wrong, but I have to think about it every time I write it. You don't think about the spelling of words, usually do you? It just comes out, because you know the shape of it.
See what I mean? I'm just blathering. Internet really is the enemy of work. Also, none of this is very good, hence 'sickness is the enemy of urbanitas". I do like the latin form of that word better. 'Urbanitas' sounds it, is onomatopoeic in a way (see, and I had no trouble with 'onomatopoeic'. Although I inexplicably spelt "with "eith" just then. Oh, w and e are next to each other. Ignore me, then), whereas urbane-ness or whatever is all wrong. Ditto Auctoritas, and, to a lesser extent, Veritas.
It's hard to be smoothly witty when your head and ears and throat and nose are all non-functional. Not that I'm claiming to be smotthly witty anyway, you understand, but that it's completely impossible with a nasty head cold. Also I bit my tongue really hard yesterday morning, and it still hurts. *whinges*
Feel that it is unjust to get sick the day before a major essay is due. Because all you want to do is get some rest and recuperate, but you can't, because you have a shitload of work to do. And you can't go "I'm sick, stuff it" because you should have done it weeks ago. If you were a good, efficient, dedicated student, you could be resting. Its only 11:30am. You could be still asleep. Jeah. Except, of course, you wouldn't be, because good and dedicated student who do all their assignments as soon as they get them are the sorts of wankers who get up at 7am on a Sunday morning so as to "get the most out of the day". Probably do something "brisk" like jog around the bay, or something.
Conversely, wouldn't such a person be doing the essays that they were assigned recently? or studying or something? Perhaps there is no possible universe in which I could be asleep right now? Oooh... deep.
It seems strange to me that my essay sources can be both fascinating and boring at the same time, that I can feel like I'm working and procrastinating at the same time. Although I suspect that actually I'm procrastinating awfully. Feel the power of the female to multitask. If you aren't doing at least three things at any given time, then really, what's the point?
Gaaahh.....
In other news, I've calculated that a trip to Jenolan Caves from here, especially if we had to go via, oh, say, Central station, Longeville, and the M2, and back, via, for instance Lilyfield/Longeville/Lilyfield again, would be more than 500 km, and consume more than 50L of petrol. Good grief. Good thing that I'm writing my essay today, not driving there. Although I do imagine it would be an absolutely great day.
And now, to the essay. Holy Long Boring Articles, Batman!
Blasted Feminist writers.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
5th of the 5th of the 5th
Today is 05/05/05.
This sort of day, with such a... (repetitive? Poetic? Rhythmic? Iambic? Iambic no longer means where I was originally going with that, but is a great word, so shall use it) such an iambic date comes around once a year, in only the first twelve years of each century. That's once every 438000 days. Worked this out in Latin.
Feel like celebrating such a momentous day, but must write Biology report for tomorrow, and huge horrible history essay for Monday. Hatehatehate. Although not with the passion I reserve for those Big Brother ads. Is bad enough that idiots everywhere watch it without having read 1984, but they're so smug. "You've got something planned, haven't you?" [in knowing interrogatory tone, such as one might say "you're so clever and evil, wow, but I have outwitted you, and am on TV. Hi mom!" or similar]
Yes, well I mean no shit, Sherlock. Thank you Captain Obvious. Of course "he" 's got "something planned". Or rather the board of commitee members have brainstormed and thought of a puerile twist. Like "oh boy, I've got a great one: one of our obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' people, will SECRETLY not be an obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' person, but rather an obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' ACTOR, pretending to be an obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' person! Y'know, just to mix it right up! Yeah!"
"Brilliant: and...ooohh... I've one: really diabolical.... wait for it, we label the hot tap cold and the cold tap hot!"
"Wow, riveting!"
Graaarrgh. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, yes, rather less than that, I hate essays and so on. My desk is covered in "sources" for essays I've written already, but can't throw out because I'm positing an alternate universe in which I'll reread them for the exams.
Also, since I'm ranting I'll complain about this; I hung out washing on Sunday night, and now, on Thursday, it's still damp. V. grumpy, as am out of socks as of today.
Well, having now de-mellowed my mood, I guess I'll have to write my report now, but I shall do it in my furry boots, by the devil. Jeah.
<3 for the furry boots. Since that's a l33t heart, in fact, will go all out and say <3 for teh b00ts. Jeah. L33t r0x0rs our s0x0rs (and/or b00ts)
Ahem. Report. Adios, troops.
This sort of day, with such a... (repetitive? Poetic? Rhythmic? Iambic? Iambic no longer means where I was originally going with that, but is a great word, so shall use it) such an iambic date comes around once a year, in only the first twelve years of each century. That's once every 438000 days. Worked this out in Latin.
Feel like celebrating such a momentous day, but must write Biology report for tomorrow, and huge horrible history essay for Monday. Hatehatehate. Although not with the passion I reserve for those Big Brother ads. Is bad enough that idiots everywhere watch it without having read 1984, but they're so smug. "You've got something planned, haven't you?" [in knowing interrogatory tone, such as one might say "you're so clever and evil, wow, but I have outwitted you, and am on TV. Hi mom!" or similar]
Yes, well I mean no shit, Sherlock. Thank you Captain Obvious. Of course "he" 's got "something planned". Or rather the board of commitee members have brainstormed and thought of a puerile twist. Like "oh boy, I've got a great one: one of our obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' people, will SECRETLY not be an obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' person, but rather an obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' ACTOR, pretending to be an obnoxious, boring, average, 'real' person! Y'know, just to mix it right up! Yeah!"
"Brilliant: and...ooohh... I've one: really diabolical.... wait for it, we label the hot tap cold and the cold tap hot!"
"Wow, riveting!"
Graaarrgh. Wait, what was I talking about? Oh, yes, rather less than that, I hate essays and so on. My desk is covered in "sources" for essays I've written already, but can't throw out because I'm positing an alternate universe in which I'll reread them for the exams.
Also, since I'm ranting I'll complain about this; I hung out washing on Sunday night, and now, on Thursday, it's still damp. V. grumpy, as am out of socks as of today.
Well, having now de-mellowed my mood, I guess I'll have to write my report now, but I shall do it in my furry boots, by the devil. Jeah.
<3 for the furry boots. Since that's a l33t heart, in fact, will go all out and say <3 for teh b00ts. Jeah. L33t r0x0rs our s0x0rs (and/or b00ts)
Ahem. Report. Adios, troops.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Token Post of greeting
Those of you who've been paying attention (yes, I do realise that this leaves only you, Cat, but I do prefer to address my imaginary audience in the plural) might remember about a month ago I said that my Dad was going to read my blog. Since he has just finally actually started to do so today (is this parental devotion? I think not...), I just thought I would to him say"Hi, stop reading this while you have patients in your room, pretend to pay attention at least" and to all the rest of you reiterate what I said all those months ago, "Do try not to mention anything that I've been lying to my parents about". Especially the ritual animal slaughter (of any kind).
Played tutorial bingo in latin today, v. amusing as whole class got involved, and we did complete a vertical line, but since (a) I'd kind of cheated, and (b) we were on the third floor, I did not, as the instruction suggested, exit through a window. Class debate arose at to whether Liam's pink shirt was a polo shirt, and who could be counted as "smug prick" in row two of the game. So ardent was this debate that the tutor actually asked me if I would mind "continuing this later" Am such a Rebel. Jeah. Haven't been told off in latin in living memory, as am charming.
Speaking of latin, it turns out that there is no nominative gerund, and that the infinitive is the nominative verbal noun (nod and smile, most of you, I'll stop shortly) with the net effect that my latin Cat Empire lyrics are wrong. Being, as I believe I may have mentioned, a Rebel Extraordinaire, however, I shan't change it, because I like the way it sounds better with "vivendum" rather than "vivere". Gold star for anyone who can come up with a justification of accusative form of "living" in the phrase "long live living".
Operation Cave Quest is progressing nicely, found a cool site which gives you directions and map for any given trip, so incredibly useful: www.travelmate.com.au under the MapMaker link.
Am so enterprising.
Also, have worn down the sensible yet meringue-like resolve of those who have been sub poenaed to go, so car is now full, will have full Fellowship for Quest.
But who is whom? Was my idea, and am driving force, so I'll be some kind of Gandalf/Aragorn/possiblyFrodo conglomeration. And everyone else is a bit of a Merry/Pippin, I suppose.
Tim can be Legolas, which would irritate him amusingly and give him only dodgy dialogue, as vengeance for drawing on me today.
Bec is Pippin, Sam is Merry, as are there for comic relief.
And Catie could be... um... no, wait, Catie can be Frodo, as she has to put up with the rest of us. Or possibly Boromir or Gimli as these are only people left. Don't want a Samwise, as would put tension into Quest.
Gimli perhaps? That way I get to be taller.
Or Sam, because she can cook vegetable stirfry? She can only be Sam if we don't have a Frodo, though. On the other hand, Frodo too tortured for such a quest, and we don't want him dragging the rest of us down. Also, not sure Catie, in character or out, could resist his Hidden Wells of Secret Pain. Or his noble broodingness.
Not sure that, as Aragorn figure, I really want to bring a Boromir, but then that way, I get to have a coolly strong-willed sidekick. Hmmm....
Well, Cat can pick who she wants to be, then.
Perhaps should think about more constructive things? But what?
Have new purple furry ugg boots! Yessss! Will wear them everywhere! But not to caves, as need sturdy shoes with grip, also layer clothes, as caves can be chilly.
Even cooller than those purple leopard print shoes we saw the other day, as are furrier.
Big Brother ads playing on radio too, now. Hatehatehate. Hate. They're just so... smug.
Interesting fact: an 18 year old guy has been charged today, because of his part in an eight and a half hour police car chase. Thats a really long time. And at speed, too, presumably. Wouldn't you have to stop for petrol? How would that work? You'd have to declare a time out while everyone refilled, and maybe bought Cokes, or something. Unless you could, y'know, decant the petrol from an also speeding petrol tanker. This might be a little fiddly, but with determination, am sure it could be managed. Now there's a thrilling way to pass a Monday evening.
What I was doing at that point was sleeping, because the essay I was writing on Sunday left me 2 and a half hours of sleep. And my alarm went of for no apparent reason at 5 am, half an hour into that sleep. That's injustice, folks.
Interesting what begins to happen when you've had that little sleep. I swear, and Cat will collaborate this, that my one of my posters, which normally looks very serious, if you look hard enough, late enough at night, smiles at you slightly. We aren't talking a toothy grin, obviously, that would be too obvious. The poster would want us to know for sure that it was alive. What would the fun be in that?
Must apologise for the dull randomness of this post, by the way. Surprisingly, no, I'm not on drugs, I'm just tired and at work, which has similar effects, I understand. Certainly as far as writing style goes.Will therefore stop. However, post a comment, even just "hi" if you're reading; this is getting a little unrewarding with no responses.
Played tutorial bingo in latin today, v. amusing as whole class got involved, and we did complete a vertical line, but since (a) I'd kind of cheated, and (b) we were on the third floor, I did not, as the instruction suggested, exit through a window. Class debate arose at to whether Liam's pink shirt was a polo shirt, and who could be counted as "smug prick" in row two of the game. So ardent was this debate that the tutor actually asked me if I would mind "continuing this later" Am such a Rebel. Jeah. Haven't been told off in latin in living memory, as am charming.
Speaking of latin, it turns out that there is no nominative gerund, and that the infinitive is the nominative verbal noun (nod and smile, most of you, I'll stop shortly) with the net effect that my latin Cat Empire lyrics are wrong. Being, as I believe I may have mentioned, a Rebel Extraordinaire, however, I shan't change it, because I like the way it sounds better with "vivendum" rather than "vivere". Gold star for anyone who can come up with a justification of accusative form of "living" in the phrase "long live living".
Operation Cave Quest is progressing nicely, found a cool site which gives you directions and map for any given trip, so incredibly useful: www.travelmate.com.au under the MapMaker link.
Am so enterprising.
Also, have worn down the sensible yet meringue-like resolve of those who have been sub poenaed to go, so car is now full, will have full Fellowship for Quest.
But who is whom? Was my idea, and am driving force, so I'll be some kind of Gandalf/Aragorn/possiblyFrodo conglomeration. And everyone else is a bit of a Merry/Pippin, I suppose.
Tim can be Legolas, which would irritate him amusingly and give him only dodgy dialogue, as vengeance for drawing on me today.
Bec is Pippin, Sam is Merry, as are there for comic relief.
And Catie could be... um... no, wait, Catie can be Frodo, as she has to put up with the rest of us. Or possibly Boromir or Gimli as these are only people left. Don't want a Samwise, as would put tension into Quest.
Gimli perhaps? That way I get to be taller.
Or Sam, because she can cook vegetable stirfry? She can only be Sam if we don't have a Frodo, though. On the other hand, Frodo too tortured for such a quest, and we don't want him dragging the rest of us down. Also, not sure Catie, in character or out, could resist his Hidden Wells of Secret Pain. Or his noble broodingness.
Not sure that, as Aragorn figure, I really want to bring a Boromir, but then that way, I get to have a coolly strong-willed sidekick. Hmmm....
Well, Cat can pick who she wants to be, then.
Perhaps should think about more constructive things? But what?
Have new purple furry ugg boots! Yessss! Will wear them everywhere! But not to caves, as need sturdy shoes with grip, also layer clothes, as caves can be chilly.
Even cooller than those purple leopard print shoes we saw the other day, as are furrier.
Big Brother ads playing on radio too, now. Hatehatehate. Hate. They're just so... smug.
Interesting fact: an 18 year old guy has been charged today, because of his part in an eight and a half hour police car chase. Thats a really long time. And at speed, too, presumably. Wouldn't you have to stop for petrol? How would that work? You'd have to declare a time out while everyone refilled, and maybe bought Cokes, or something. Unless you could, y'know, decant the petrol from an also speeding petrol tanker. This might be a little fiddly, but with determination, am sure it could be managed. Now there's a thrilling way to pass a Monday evening.
What I was doing at that point was sleeping, because the essay I was writing on Sunday left me 2 and a half hours of sleep. And my alarm went of for no apparent reason at 5 am, half an hour into that sleep. That's injustice, folks.
Interesting what begins to happen when you've had that little sleep. I swear, and Cat will collaborate this, that my one of my posters, which normally looks very serious, if you look hard enough, late enough at night, smiles at you slightly. We aren't talking a toothy grin, obviously, that would be too obvious. The poster would want us to know for sure that it was alive. What would the fun be in that?
Must apologise for the dull randomness of this post, by the way. Surprisingly, no, I'm not on drugs, I'm just tired and at work, which has similar effects, I understand. Certainly as far as writing style goes.Will therefore stop. However, post a comment, even just "hi" if you're reading; this is getting a little unrewarding with no responses.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
Happy May, people.
Yesterday I was in a shop in Glebe called "In Denial" a pretty cool shop, very different. Anyway, they had this cool CD on, which went really well with the atmosphere in the shop somehow, like auditory incense. So, on a bizarre impulse, I went out and bought it, despite the fact that the artist's name was "Unkle Ho". At least one track on it has both spanish guitar and that really sleazy trumpet sound in it, last done to perfection by Cat Empire, specifically towards the climax of "All that Talking". I love that sort of trumpet. I don't know why. "Sleazy" is very rarely a good word, either, maybe "debauched"? Trumpet of debauchery? Sounds bizarre still. More bizarre even. Best move on, I think.
Its always good to go to Glebe markets and Glebe Point Road on a Saturday. The people watching is so quality. Everyone is interesting, and the things there are interesting. Even the Greenpeace guy who tried to convince me that Global Dimming counteracted Global Warming, so that they effectively cancelled each other out and still they would both independently destroy the world if we didn't do anythin about it (logical flaw? It seems so to me. If I have any Greenpeace readers I don't know about: comment) seemed cool and interesting. The area reminded me of the movie Eternal sunshine of the Spotless Mind (excellent movie: see it), sort of kooky and interesting, and different and fascinating. I love it, I could spend hours there every Saturday, in company or alone. It never seems to get old.
Also I bought some rather nice earrings. Silver, sort of angular celtic-knot-y. $10, which is great, especially since I was lusting after them a week or so ago, but they were $20-ish. Jeah.
Thinking of cool and interesting people, I am slightly worried by my reaction to seeing famous people up sort of close and in the flesh. Disturbed by my apparent groupie-ish-ness. Which is not to say that I'd sleep with someone just because they were famous, but still. Not, in all honesty, sure what I eould do if propositioned by Orlando Bloom or similar. Possibly faint. Or laugh and refuse to believe that it wasn't a joke, and possibly someone else, cleverly disguised.
Moving on, I have a plan: there should be a quest to Jenolan Caves. Road trip! What fun. Will definitely attempt to organise this.
Also, read an article in Icon (embarrassingly enough that I opened Icon in the first place?) about net celebrities and people with famous blogs. Feel that this would be even easier than being a famous bass player. I have a blog. How do I go about making it hugely popular?
And now I really will get on with my essay, just you watch.
Its always good to go to Glebe markets and Glebe Point Road on a Saturday. The people watching is so quality. Everyone is interesting, and the things there are interesting. Even the Greenpeace guy who tried to convince me that Global Dimming counteracted Global Warming, so that they effectively cancelled each other out and still they would both independently destroy the world if we didn't do anythin about it (logical flaw? It seems so to me. If I have any Greenpeace readers I don't know about: comment) seemed cool and interesting. The area reminded me of the movie Eternal sunshine of the Spotless Mind (excellent movie: see it), sort of kooky and interesting, and different and fascinating. I love it, I could spend hours there every Saturday, in company or alone. It never seems to get old.
Also I bought some rather nice earrings. Silver, sort of angular celtic-knot-y. $10, which is great, especially since I was lusting after them a week or so ago, but they were $20-ish. Jeah.
Thinking of cool and interesting people, I am slightly worried by my reaction to seeing famous people up sort of close and in the flesh. Disturbed by my apparent groupie-ish-ness. Which is not to say that I'd sleep with someone just because they were famous, but still. Not, in all honesty, sure what I eould do if propositioned by Orlando Bloom or similar. Possibly faint. Or laugh and refuse to believe that it wasn't a joke, and possibly someone else, cleverly disguised.
Moving on, I have a plan: there should be a quest to Jenolan Caves. Road trip! What fun. Will definitely attempt to organise this.
Also, read an article in Icon (embarrassingly enough that I opened Icon in the first place?) about net celebrities and people with famous blogs. Feel that this would be even easier than being a famous bass player. I have a blog. How do I go about making it hugely popular?
And now I really will get on with my essay, just you watch.
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