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[Aug. 26th, 2008|09:38 pm] |
I'm back, run for your lives everyone.
I actually returned late Friday, after stopping to see Tropic Thunder (Robert Downey Jr. ftw!) and going out for some dinner.
There were good times, bad times, and the post card I meant to send someone was accidentally taken by ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) nawi_swan, I think. lol The one thing I realized on the trip is this: I do not eat much of anything at home.
We passed through four states, excluding Missouri, and traveled about 4,300 miles or more. The Black Hills of South Dakota, the sacred place of the Sioux is just enchanting. All the hussle around Mt. Rushmore is such bullshit, and, not to sound unpatriotic, but I sort of wish it was anywhere else, or at least not somewhere so wonderful and peaceful. Custer State Park--which, seriously, wtf were they thinking?--is right below the Black Hills and we traveled over Iron Mountain Road, which runs through embracing the sides of hills, making it like a less steep mountain road indeed. Green is everywhere and, at night, while camping at Custer, I woke up once for a while to only the sounds of nature and felt fulfilled. Including that night, we only camped out four times. Montana had a first come first serve policy that we didn't want to chance (having only a tent anyway), so we opted for a hostel stay for two days, and small motels the rest.
Glacier National Park in Montana was AMAZING! I truly consider Going-to-the-Sun Rd. to be one of the most beautiful locations in the world. I've seen pictures of beaches, been to beaches, been to lakes, went to Yellowstone and the Tetons after, and while the Tetons were lovely nothing comes close to the utter perfection that is Glacier National Park. It's just beautiful in a way that is surreal. There is water streaming down rocks, waterfalls, rivers, lakes, and you're surrounded by mountains on all sides and a lot of this is confined in a rather small-ish space. Allowed to go right up to waterfalls, I was disappointed at the less beautiful, impossible to reach falls in Yellowstone and could not understand the hype of them. I do not encourage, I do not suggest, I demand that at some point in all your life readers, should you find yourself in the position to do so, that you go to this lesser known paradise.
We drove up and down the road a couple times, although we only went from east to west completely once. We hiked up a mountain to see the Hidden Valley Overlook and saw mountain goats (a baby goat too!) and were just taken away. Almost everyday we hiked. After just about dying on one day of hiking 7 miles, we were startled to learn you can burn (at 150 lbs.) 450 calories an hour hiking. Considering we'd been hiking so long, and hiking hard, and I was doing it on about 300 calories--I can't eat any grains and that makes for awkward breakfasts--I have no idea how I made it back.
The fact that those who go to Glacier NP are usually hardy hikers and true nature enthusiasts rather than some of the more casual travelers of Yellowstone made the difference too. This place is pure magic. I could find nothing wrong with it other than that they were doing some necessary roadwork on Going-to-the-Sun Road. We were there for a couple days, and did a lot, but I could see myself staying there for a month and coming back confused by the world in its' current state. I sort of am now still. It's fortunate in some respects that I did not leap from Glacier NP in all its' splendor to back home--the shock of it may have left me like a monk once they're introduced to cable television. I cannot express it. I'm so glad we took as many hikes as we did, and I wished so fervently I didn't have plantars fasciitis and could have hiked even more.
Besides the mountain goats, we saw a young grizzly a bit close for comfort, but we had the good fortune of being in the car and all was safe. There were also tons of ground squirrels, which I'd never seen before, chipmunks like crazy; birds of all sorts including larger birds of prey (eagles, hawks, and falcons as well); three marmots; elk aplenty; pronghorn antelope; so many beautiful, well cared for horses; a couple rabbits, including one gigantic rabbit that was a bit bigger than my cat; a mid-sized moose; and possibly more things I've forgotten.
The Tetons are so picturesque and, if you ever visit do try going out into the park as early in the morning as possible. I liked when, at the end, we were awake even earlier to make a pass through the park to visit Jackson, WY for Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum and a scenic (ski) lift. We stayed in a tent cabins in Coulter Bay (in the park) for the three nights. They had prison bunk beds. lol Seriously. They weren't bad, actually. Haha.
Coming home was odd. My cat apparently went into a cat depression. She laid in the same three spots, didn't even try to be petted or any get any other attention, and only cried for food alone. Normally she does all she can to have attention paid to her, stays in one spot only briefly except in the hot afternoons. Most my plants were dead or sick, even after being specific with my mom about watering. Even my cherry blossom tree, which has been hardily going about though growing slowly, was in a sad shape. I'm hoping the care of their owner will perk them back up. Then I started that lovely cycle of hell that comes up every 28 days, and since mine is utterly made of fail I was bedridden almost the whole time. So I'm just now trying to slowly get life back on track and stop vacation mode and get back into life mode. We'll see how that works out. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 2nd, 2008|05:05 am] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Mo' Horizons - Southern Fried Funky Love | ] |
(OMG, it sounds like something crazy from Cowboy Bebop.)
This is my last entry until, at the very least, August 21st. During that time I will be fending off bear attacks in serious bear country, and generally living in a very small car/tent/tent cabin/hostel. But first I shall be found in the Badlands. Life is awesome when your vacation is twenty days. This is the only instance in my life--thus far, I'm holding onto the hope of future luxuries--when I can honestly say that I am spoiled rotten. Twenty days! Twenty days!~
I'm only about half packed. Which is bad since I leave bright and early Sunday (7:00 a.m., unless we're both too psyched to sleep even that long), but I ended up getting food poisoning Friday night. This is like the fifth time in my life. I have no luck.
I am bringing a little over 100 CDs--all burned copies because taking originals would be crazy--alphabetically organized in a case with a list. Someone out there will understand how imperative this is, and how I am no actually crazy to be so organized. I'm not, seriously, it makes it easier in the car. And the flashlight I'm bringing looks like a mini-UFO. Haha.
I'm glad to get away from the world for a while and immerse myself in a bit of wilderness. I feel like lately so many people have gone batshit crazy. Last year, going to Michigan and visiting the Sleeping Bear Dunes NP and Mackinac Island (pronounced Mackinaw), etc. etc. I had so much fun. I'm not sure if that's just the state of things on that part of Michigan, or all that fresh air. Sometimes I have no idea how we can live like this with our five dollar coffees and our cellphones always plugged in, and always on computers day in and day out. When I was a kid I was always in the woods playing. I was a very daring little girl who swung across an old rope across a creek infested with copperheads and water moccasins in the deep south of Texas. I grew up knowing what real humidity was, fell off my bike countless times (even scarred myself a couple times), and truly enjoyed myself. I didn't really start using a computer until I was in junior high. I think I could go back to that life if it weren't for friends. I love my PC, but a lot of times I hate it too and what it signifies: a life owned by a piece of metal and plastic (though mostly metal).
I've never been very materialistic. Which no one would believe if they saw my room, I have just as much stuff as the next person. Almost all of it was gifts, though. I think I'd always be okay as long as I had clean water, food, some paper and pens to write with, music (I'd die), and books to read. I swear sometimes that it's things that stress me out more than not having things. lol I'm not interested in phones that cost more than $100 or jeans that are $50. It's just not in me to care, even if I have to be dubbed a "weirdo" for life.
I'll enjoy walking the million trails we've set for ourselves, floating down a lake, sliding down an enormous slide (lol), visiting Ripley's Believe It or Not Museum, seeing Devil's Tower, the Badlands, Glacier NP, Yellowstone NP, the Tetons, and all the rest. I'll take pictures! And hopefully this time actually upload them. Haha. Maybe I'll manage a couple really perfect ones like before.
At the rate that nami_swan and I are going, we'll have seen all of the United States by forty. Everyone be good while I'm away. lol
Unrelated: I was inadvertently fasting. What the heck? Twenty-four hours without anything but water and I didn't even notice. I win at life. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 10th, 2008|10:42 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | idiocy | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Tenhi - Kielo | ] |
My own dedication, obsessiveness, need for perfection in my own work, and wish to always have all the details and all information terrifies me. I've never once met my match. When I do, I'll either: push that person to commit themselves; or ask that they marry me, become my business partner or make a blood pact with me immediately.
All the time I hear others say: "I strive for perfection." Lies! I have so many reference books so that I'm running out of space for them.
I have recently taken up learning about fashion. For amusement? Nay! So that I can use proper terms for proper fashion trends. Yes my friends, I kid you not. It's something I know so little about. When I learned what "wingtips" were I was truly ecstatic. Discovery of new information--especially something I can use in writing--is the largest source of pleasure for me. This is my personality. Perverse, I know, but it's who I am.
World domination!!! Or maybe just absolute failure to complete anything.
Just in case anyone has taken it upon themselves to make assumptions: I am not obsessed with writing in any shape or form. Anyone who says differently is a terrible, terrible liar--or at least misinformed. I hate writing. It's destroyed my life and robbed me of any potential to be a normal human being with a normal social life and such. (I hate music too for the same reason.)
P.S. Finnish dark-folk music is so nifty. It's like pale pink socks on men: unexpected and somehow deeply earth shattering to notice.
Addendum: 4,500 words in one day! AH HAHAHAHAHA! This is why I should never, ever participate in NaNo. I'd probably be insane enough to actually do it and go crazy with it. I think I could continue but I'm at a great stopping point. Plus my mind feels like it's being stuffed with something warm and sticky. I think that's an accurate description for creatively induced fatigue.
Addendum 2: 7,500 words in two days! Plus the necessary research and some revising. I think I may stop writing for a day at least though. I need to seriously revise what I have soon. I usually revise a lot more as I go along--which I'm not doing much of. |
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[Jun. 8th, 2008|07:24 pm] |
Whenever I go to someone's house and they have a dog(s), their dog(s) always go wild. It has nothing to do with smells. I don't have a dog myself and never pet the cat before going to such places--it's a precaution that I take which is useless. It always happens though. Their dogs jump up and down against my legs, tongues lulling, so filled with joy. I pet them and behave normally. I smile awkwardly, not because I dislike dogs; rather, because I know what comes next.
Owner: [Dog's name], get down! Bad dog!
Me: .... [awkward half smile]
Owner: He/she doesn't act like this normally.
Me: .... [awkward half smile]
If the animal persists I sometimes even get told off in a weird way for it. Like I am responsible. I'm told, "Don't encourage him/her." I uhhh... never ever do. Yet I get told this multiple times. I don't speak in cutesy voices or even pet an animal until it starts going berserk and I start feeling helpless. "If you don't pet him/her then he/she will stop." They... don't. They only calm down if I pet the animal in a specific soothing way, usually behind the ears or the ears themselves. (I am dog petting guru.)
It's fine, but I sort of hate the reactions sometimes. Like I'm being treated as if I put bacon in my pockets (As Good As It Gets)--or have some trick. What is worse is with some I get these jealous looks--which is so wtf I have no words to describe it other than "creepy." lol My own cat is kind of cool towards strangers but then warms up to anyone willing to pet/feed her. Haha. She acts so snooty too that people often act like she's extending to them a great honor in allowing them to put their hand upon her holy fur. (I love my cat's snobbiness it's so amusing because she likes her BELLY RUBBED WITH MY FOOT, yet acts so composed.)
How can you be jealous of someone because your dog likes them? That's so odd and possessive that I don't know what to say. It's an animal. I love animals, but I am sensible enough to recognize that their brains are very small and they think of being petted, being fed, avoiding baths and that's about it. That doesn't leave much room for things like "favoritism" and "love." Yes, I think pets love their owners if they're good to them. My own cat has kind of decided I am her officially appointed petter. But strangers are awesome because they may pet her in a different way. lol It's like visiting a foreign country and trying the native food. It makes sense to me why she'd find the occasional stranger appealing. I don't think that she, like a person might, is concerned that my feelings may be hurt that she is paying attention to someone else other than I, her officially appointed petter.
If someone is possessive over a pet, can you imagine how bad they are with a person? Point made... I think. |
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[Jun. 3rd, 2008|06:05 am] |
Nice way to wake up: at 3:00 a.m. screaming. I have no idea what I did to my leg. I thought it was a cramp, but I've never had a cramp hurt hours later. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad as initially, it's just weak, tender, and throbs when I put weight on it. I think this is the same as I did to my knee about five years ago. The lower part of my leg went one way and the upper part wanted to remain still. Luckily, if it is that then I know I only have a couple days before I start seeing vast improvement. I took a massive dosage of anti-inflammatories right away--I fucking CRAWLED to get them--so that has helped, and I put some ice on it and started massaging gently after it was totally numb. I have to say, if someone must get injured then I'm prime candidate. I can fix just about anything.
It hit me recently that over the years my confidence in everything, besides writing (lolz), has grown and grown. I'm constantly learning things, so that helps. The only thing that bothers me as far as learning is, surprisingly enough, history. I think I've grown to despise it now that I'm old enough to recognize what a shit subject it actually is. Before you protest, hear me out! History is all about perspective, and which bit of the story got the proper attention. Given our current media, and the effective use of the government keeping its citizens clueless about their own world/country, how can history be anymore accurate? In fact, by my estimation, it can only be less accurate; the current media is composed of more people willing to snoop out a story to the bitter end, for every FOX news--unwilling as they are to do much but toss around conjecture--there are two sources of media that are not like that. The trick, as always, is to find these elusive, even mythic, sources of news.
I've got three books that are something along the lines of: "everything you know about history is a lie." lol And, in many ways, history is like reading a classic. There are a lot of different opinions, some quite similar, but the differences slight or no, can completely change how one person views the book from someone else. Once you stop taking history seriously though, it all comes together. Biographies are probably the best in a lot of ways. Reading about a historical figure in a textbook is a laugh. They all sound so grand, or at least powerful and intimidating. Not so.
I'm reading Dai Sijie's Mr. Muo's Traveling Couch, which, unexpectedly, brought some of these thoughts to the surface. The lead character is Chinese, but a practitioner of Freud's psychoanalytical methods. He believes Freud's theories hook, line, and sinker. It's actually rather comic, somehow, although some parts aren't. I am not a fan of Freud. I think he was on to something with dream interpretations. Few people go throughout their whole lives without having one of these five dreams, even multiple times: the naked in public dream, the being chased dream, and the loose tooth/teeth/teeth falling out dream, flying in a dream, or falling in a dream. I've had all but the naked in public dream multiple times each.
Freud's failing was that he himself was an absolute head case. I think he was actually terrified of the female gender. Because we suck a man's soul out through his ____. Haha. I don't agree with all interpretations, and I think small symbols in dreams can sometimes be unique to a person: some of us find clowns frightening. Me, personally, I find them unnerving because I hate not being able to see a person's expression. I've never liked talking on the phone as much--unless I've known a person for years and years--just because I hate not being able to read a person's face. Other's actually see clowns as I suppose they are meant to be seen: playful, happy things. Then some of us who read/watched Stephen King's legendary IT feel downright petrified by them. So we each have our own. Dreaming about a clown may mean reaching into yourself and asking, "If I saw a clown right now, how would I feel, what would I first think?" Some mainstream interpretations are still tarnished by Freud's own psychosis. If you dream of a wedding, many dream dictionaries will tell you, someone close to you is about to/is dying. I've dreamed of being married myself about twenty times. Always to the same person except on two occasions: I married a faceless man in one, and the other I married a woman I never saw. I have no desire to be married. In some of the dreams I was happy, in some I was nervous, in some I was downright terrified. They often involve weird elements in them besides the wedding itself. I have not had anyone die or admit they're dying not long after having such a dream.
Just as history has been tarnished by the opinions of those who initially wrote down the story, so will psychoanalysis be tarnished by Freud's own screwed up psyche. |
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| (no subject) |
[Apr. 5th, 2008|08:17 am] |
It takes like only a couple days of computer work before my tendinitis starts up again. Then I'm back to having pain and difficulty even holding a book open, having it hurt badly to use the mouse or type, having my hand and wrist swell.
I'm so sick of this. It's annoying!~ I need to buy this. But I also need medications. And I need to go to the dentist. None of which is happening.
Does anyone want to switch hands/wrists with me? lol I will give you a penny.
I remember writing 4,000 words a day. I do. Honest. It was before this. (Cue dramatic soap opera piano music) This horror that came into my life (music gets more mournful), this tendinitis.
/End wankage a.k.a. bad, repetitious joke
I'm at a serious cataclysmic point for my characters and story. It's so exciting. I feel like someone told me about a really cool book and I'm getting to the "good stuff." It's exciting. The writing often comes so neatly that I feel like the audience, not the creator. Haha. I'm bragging, but not. Because I'm not--not really.
I have one character who is oftentimes stoic, keeps her feelings inside. I love when I can give her some room and be even a bit passionate. I think she'll be dubbed, "That character who uses exclamation marks so minimally it's amusing." After so many words written she's used two total. Go character for... uhh... not using exclamation points? I sort of imagine her as having one of those voices that makes a person have to lean in a little to hear. Not quiet so much as just within short distance hearing range, but clear and each word properly enunciated. Like a CIA agent. lol Or not.
It does freak me out that Word and I so rarely disagree on punctuation. I'm of the sort who never trusts my grammar. I use semi-colons like they're an infectious disease that may contaminate the whole story. I use one and then am like, "Or is that wrong? I feel like it should be. It's a semi-colon, I know it! Wait, maybe not." So I take it out and Word is like, "Uhh... you need a semi-colon there." And I rejoice. Because I'm smart--or at least as smart as Word.
Are you not amazed that I can be write so much and talk about absolutely nothing? |
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| (no subject) |
[Dec. 7th, 2007|05:09 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | food, recipes | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Beulah - Rust with Me | ] |
I think it's ironic, cake is the one dessert I am definitely not fond of (that and most sweet, not sour, pies I can pass up on). But I always so admire pastiers. All of her cupcakes are so wonderful, but these cow ones are particularly fantastic.
Also, somewhat related (it's food as well) is this message: ice cubes in restaurants are nasty!
And a recipe I grew up. Just change it so it's 1 tablespoon peanut butter. You can also substitute chocolate chips for butterscotch chips. For added yumminess... find some plain MINT M & M's and drop three on the center of each before the chocolate melts (so it sticks). Instead of haystacks they become "birds nests." If you have a younger daughter/son, niece/nephew, whatever... they love the process of this. I have no idea why. Too bad I cannot eat these.
An entry about food... how strange? |
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| (no subject) |
[Nov. 1st, 2007|12:50 am] |
ZOMG, Word you are like some awesome in how frequently you freeze my computer! I also like how you drain more memory than an image editor. Microsoft, you are second to Adobe in creating memory-sucking products. Love and kisses, you stupid piece of [censored].
Neal Stephenson's The Diamond Age is addictive. I am making a huge list of cyberpunk and steampunk novels I want now. I get really bored with standard SF spaceship/galaxy journeying scenarios. Which is why I've avoided Science Fiction for so long. Even Ender's Game--which's consequential sequels later dissolved into Orson Scott Card explaining the mechanics of male idolatry in a Mormon social structure, hell yes! (sarcasm)--a well done space/military book didn't hook me hard just because... the spaceship.
I have never, ever dreamt of being an astronomer or an astronaut. (The closest I have ever come to that is calling my cat, on occasion, the "Puffo-naut.") It's just like I have never had an interest in mechanics or mechanical science. Someone talks about a car's engine, or gears and pulleys and I drift off. (I like anatomy and earth science.) But a book based on the possibilities of nanotechnology? I am there. lol For me, having a massive amount of people in space, a la Mobile Suit Gundam, is too far in the future. Nanotechnology is today, is tomorrow. I may live to see it truly do some good. Space wars? Not as likely. I guess that's my problem, entirely with speculative fiction. If it isn't just fun and kooky (Diana Wynne Jones), but takes itself seriously, I still want something that feels real. Even if that realism is just a cast of characters that are so real, so true, and so worthy of sympathy that I may just cry if they drop dead. A lot of SF-space travel novels spend a whole lot of time discussing the mechanical bits, the technological improvements, and the struggles between two (or more) groups in space.
I like how the Neo-Victorians have gloves that repel dirt using nanotechnology. I know some company or another was considering--maybe they actually did--introducing stain/dirt repelling t-shirts. My general reaction was, "Don't waste nanotechnology on a t-shirt--WEDDING DRESSES/formal gowns is where it's at." Although now it's come to light that nanotechnology may be toxic to humans--something that came up long after The Diamond Age.
Hope everyone had a great Halloween and those who signed up for NaNoWriMo: Good luck you crazy people. lol
Edit: Had an epiphany in regards to the evil known as the comic. I am full of joy. |
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| (no subject) |
[Oct. 19th, 2007|02:51 am] |
Best way to spend an evening: walk outside at dusk when it's about to rain. The sky should be murky and foreboding during this excursion. It is also best if the wind is so harsh that it slaps your hair against your face. All the while listen to something otherworldly (I picked Björk's Homogenic). And bonus points would be awarded if it starts to rain before you're done. Then sit down once you're home and write, write, write.
My life is so wild and full of amusements. I am an old man at heart.
It was the only way I could finish the scene with "the bastard." I have a few very hate-worthy characters, but this guy has no redeeming qualities in my mind. I wish I only had to write him once. But I have two more scenes with him in this first part. Bah. I hate writing characters I dislike. I'm glad that I only have one. lol
I'm getting frustrated by my own perfectionism; however, at the same time I almost feel that the best way I can overcome my serious lack of confidence in my abilities is by writing something I find pleasing. Even if only two people may ever see it written in novel format, it seems important that, at least for the first part, it's written with care. I'll probably start slacking off on the second part. Heh.
Inuyasha chapter 471 is one of the best manga chapters I've read. Most of the rest of Inuyasha is utter garbage, the sort of repetitious power-up shounen crap I have no patience for. But argh, Sesshoumaru's growing compassion is truly Rumiko's triumph as a manga-ka, in my opinion. Most of the rest of her characters are lacking in true, self-related, emotional conflict. There is conflict, but not the kind of battle with the self that Sesshoumaru undergoes. (Kagome only fights off her misconceptions of Kikyou and her jealousy, which isn't particularly interesting.) I remember author, Philip Pullman, criticizing how true issues: like morality and good vs. evil, have been neglected in the world of fiction. In their place is drivel and fluff, i.e. chicklit, which I run from like a bat out of hell. I agree, and the absence of these serious questions being weighed is readily apparent in manga most especially. Having Sesshoumaru contradict himself by stating first that: "This hand is only meant to hold a sword," and later dropping said sword for a human when he's a yokai who supposedly hates them? Nice. I really like reserved characters, the few emotions they do express have such a profound impact on readers.
And I'm still addicted to bloody Katekyo Hitman Reborn manga. WHY!? Oh wait, I know: Hibari, Gokudera, Rokudo, and Chrome. I'm so happy to be liking a girl character in a shounen series. Usually shounen girls are horrid. Whereas, Chrome is an absolute weirdo (in a good way) and adorable to boot (in that big-eyed almost loli way that is so inappropriate that it's utterly perfect). I keep thinking how fun it is that Mukuro Rokudo talks/acts/laughs like a sleazy guy, yet looks like a computer geek with complicated hair. And I yearn to make, "BOSS!" and "I'll bite you to death"-jokes, but no one would get them--once again I am alone in my fangirling. It's like how so few of my friends have read/enjoyed Wild Adapter, Saiyuki, and One Piece. I haven't liked something this much in years. I laugh at how it began so episodic and slapstick funny and not altogether that impressive. Then it turned into this odd, serious, and beastly thing that is crack. I love the bits of cleverness that can be found all over: the ten-year bazooka, Mukuro's abilities and how he came by them, and Hibari's ring tone (hahaha).
Radiohead's In Rainbows album? I heartily approve. I want to see wtf the CD cover is going to look like though. With a name like In Rainbows I'm picturing someone in the flesh, wrapped up, and almost constricted to the point of pain by rainbows. Yes. Because I am a cheerful person. Obviously. I hope it doesn't look like the website. Rainbow stripes running across a black background? Bah. |
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[Sep. 21st, 2007|11:29 pm] |
Ah hahaha, sugar high! What you do to me, oh sugar high. First I ate so much that I got sleepy, so to counteract this I ate enough to become delirious, strange, and wide awake.
( The girl friend-less world of fiction ) |
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[Aug. 29th, 2007|05:36 pm] |
What the hell is wrong with people sometimes? I'm outside and my neighbor across the street decides this is a good time to want to question me, yes me, about my next door neighbors. I really don't want in their business. The things I do know I don't wish to know. She actually beckons me and I, internally rolling my eyes, have to trot over to "give her the scoop" on some problem they had Sunday night. Except I don't. I have no idea what happened other than the daughter screamed at her dad and ran across the street. Not exactly front page news. So I just said the dad and the daughter had a disagreement, just like that and that was all. Her own stories that she had gathered from other individuals involved an ambulance. And hey, maybe they had their sirens off and an ambulance did come; but I have doubts, I was biking inside and probably would have seen the blue and red lights flashing on my walls. Either way... I DO NOT CARE. I have never cared. If anyone is less of a gossip monger then I want to meet them.
The only gossip I ever liked was the kind that involved people I liked who suddenly fell off the face of the earth. If only to know that they're still alive.
She's an old lady and so I should probably give her some slack. But good grief. Then she decides she has to tell me that, "Your [my] figure is much improved." And that I should, "Get a man, to cut the lower branches of that maple." They're like... three feet off the ground and thin. Me and a pair of clippers will fix it. I just hate yard work and only do the necessary. I clipped all the backyard trees all pretty a month ago. Again, old lady for you. Being frustrated with someone who is 70+ years of age is futile. But if she is such a busybody, why does she bother asking me for gossip? I'm sure the gossip about me is just soaring: the reclusive sicky has lost weight, the reclusive sicky cuts her grass and it takes almost two hours, the reclusive sicky has been spotted wearing a strange splint (thumb), the reclusive sicky still does not have a boyfriend (and I'm not complaining). (Reclusive sicky is my new term of endearment for myself. lol) She has to know I come outside to walk and do yard work, that I never speak to the neighbors, and I only know a few of their names. But no, in my spare time, I like to stare out the window to keep up with neighborhood gossip. Umm... not even likely. Even if I did, this is such a dull area that the boredom would seep in immediately. I grew up next to a very abusive father on one side and a drug dealer on the other side in a townhouse. The walls were thin. We knew everything. After having a drug dealer as a neighbor so many years ago, these stupid fights that my next door neighbors have don't leave any sort of impression. I know they have them because they always want to have one when I'm outside and the lawnmower needs gas. That's it. I try and not hear.
I figured out a major plot twist in the Thief Lord by determining what would be "interesting." Again! This always happens. It's sort of disappointing really. I always take the fun of it for myself just by being clever. lol Damn my own cleverness! |
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[Aug. 29th, 2007|06:28 am] |
I only have one friend, at the moment, who is especially nosy. I'm joking about the nosy bit. I'm just not used to it as the rest of my friends never ask what I'm doing.
One time:
Nosy friend: What ya up to?
Me: Working on comic.
Another time:
Nosy friend: Whatcha up to?
Me: Writing for teh comic.
More recently:
Nosy friend: So what are you doing?
Me: Comic stuff.
Today:
Nosy friend: What are doing? Let me guess something related to the comic?
Me: How did you know?
Nosy friend: I must be a genius.
To be fair it isn't like I work on it all the time. It's just all I really do at the computer anymore, so if someone talks to me via g-chat that's what I'm probably doing. The only other thing I do is occasionally talking to corvidae, and the comic does come up then too. I was happy enough with myself that I took a break to update my LJ's appearance. I was so sick of pink and blue. Now it's dark and Kubota-filled. Plus, all of June was sucked up in trip stuff and the first part of August in actually being on the trip. It can't last though, my other responsibilities are piling up...
Yes, I like working on this. I've neglected almost every other aspect of my life in favor of it: I have no social life, not even an online one anymore; all design stuff has almost halted, that includes skinning, walling, and making icons; I don't exercise as much; and I haven't really cooked much in a while either. I write. I think over what I've written. I rewrite. I delete things. Mostly though, I've been thinking so hard about the plot, all the missing bits, the setting, and how I want it all laid out.
I have this bad habit though. I can never seem to balance out my life when writing is involved. I am either almost entirely involved in it, or not at all. So I've been trying to make sure I only work so many hours at a time. If only because my chair makes my back hurt. Stupid, broken piece of junk. I'm too young to not have a social life though. I'm especially too young to not be concerned that I have no social life. lol
I've been listening to all my old trip-hop stuff: Massive Attack, the Sneaker Pimps, Imogen Heap, Goldfrapp, Portishead, Abraham, Etro Anime, Harland, Jem, and Zero 7. I'm almost sick of it all again. lol
For the curious: I started reading Cornelia Funke's the Thief Lord. I'm only on chapter five and I already really like it. Runaway boys living in Venice, Italy and stealing to survive? Woo. I love runaway stories, if only because I almost ran away hundreds of times as a child. Not because my family life was tragic, but purely because I got "itchy feet" and wanted to move on. lol My mom even helped me make a hobo's pack and I aspired to be a hobo. Luckily, I was sensible of my position and how I'd die of starvation or be murdered. Also, I was aware that a person cannot swim across the Atlantic ocean. I still get itchy feet, all the time in fact. |
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[Aug. 25th, 2007|02:38 am] |
Odd reader observation: the British appear to like long dashes? I thought it was just Rowling, as pointed out by many, Rowling's grammar is a terror for grammar nazi's everywhere; but no, it really is like that with most of my English books. Maybe the English have a harder time staying on one subject? lol It's how I talk, really. If someone wrote out my conversations then the long dashes would be everywhere. lol And I'm number 35 for Pratchett newest Discworld book that comes out in September. Another Lipwig book! He's probably my second favorite male Discworld character. Unless Death is considered a man? lol I thought Going Postal was a one-shot and there wouldn't be anything else from those characters. I'm so happy. I've never had more than five people ahead of me on hold for a book, though. It feels odd... Hopefully they're fast readers.
I saw Stardust. I loved the whole sky-boat-lightning-capturing thing. AWESOME. I want to live on a sky boat and capture lightning. I do! SIGN ME UP! Also, every time I see an advertisement for the Golden Compass movie, I want to bounce in my seat. I think I did, to be honest... bounce in my seat I mean.
Pointless entry, I know. I don't frickin' care. lol |
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[Aug. 16th, 2007|04:12 pm] |
I found myself today poking at some writing. Try, if you can, to picture a lethargic brunette in a broken desk chair who pokes writing like a child might poke a bug with a stick. I poke, poke, poke. Ten minutes later, it dawns on me that I'm writing a... poem. Of all things. lol
I grabbed this same name on insanejournal, just because I don't trust myself not to suddenly decide to say something graphic--just because I'm not supposed to--and get the boot. So if I disappear, that's where I am. lol I doubt it shall happen, but better cautious than not. Plus some punk already stole it at greatestjournal. I hate them mightily, whoever they may be.
Obviously I've been back from vacation, but hesitant to reveal myself fully by posting an entry. Because usually, upon returning from a trip, you're supposed to talk about it in detail and I've never been very good at that. I start feeling like I'm writing a book, get annoyed, and start writing fiction. lol My last attempt we met aliens on the beach and explained to them the wonders of convenience store food, and had special devices embedded in our skulls so that we may communicate with our friends at long distances. Which, I hope I don't have to say this but I will, did not actually occur. It was a lovely trip, but we ran across no extraterrestrials.
Yes, I suck at journaling. You'd think I had the ego necessary to find my opinions so wildly important and thrilling to journal online and offline so frequently that everyone would un-friend me in a week to keep their FList page scrolling to a minimum. It is not so. My ego finds other opportunities to reveal itself--to the woe of others.
Poetry though? I laugh at myself. lol Has anyone ever done something like that, started something new and possibly not even "like them" before becoming fully aware? |
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[Jun. 30th, 2007|02:09 pm] |
Warning: This is me in dork/insane mode. Fear where thee tread.
Current feelings can be summed up with: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
This is about the time, when insanity threatens almost imperceptibly (I'm being ironic) beneath the surface, that I would go for a walk. Except it's raining and has been for what feels like an eternity. (Is it time to construct my ark?) And it's cold-wet now. Before it was humid-wet. Now it's just... miserable. It's destroying all my sense of cheer. When I was out earlier running errands, my jeans got soaked halfway up to the knee.
I love challenges, really love them. But I'm feeling challenged-out at the moment. I'm just so overwhelmed with all my projects. I try and have fun, read a book or something, and I feel nervous about it. I think, "Wow, I am wasting so much time when I could be [select one of the following: exercising, cleaning, organizing, cooking, writing, designing]."
I have a type-A personality. It's official. I make stress, I do. No one is holding a gun to my head and saying, "You must get to 10,000 words today." Except myself.
Currently things I hate: 9,100 words. I HATE YOU. Why can't you be 900 words more? And character descriptions. I have to be a helluva a lot more descriptive since I know this is going to be converted into a comic format. When that time comes I don't want to stare at Word and think, How did I want her to look again? Normally I'd be a lot more vague. lol It's a real practice for me as a writer, to push descriptiveness when it has never been a chief concern of mine. Still! And footnotes. I have like 6,00 words worth of bloody footnotes (not included in the 9,100 words). But I have characters that will reappear in just a few pages. Characters that will reappear halfway through the story. I have metaphors and associations and just... argh. My personality is showing through my writing--it's just as deranged.
Currently I love: Soothing or energetic music. Being able to squeeze in the word "modicum" without it being the familiar uses like: "a modicum of success/intelligence." My cat, who fetches this puff ball toy of hers and brings it back to me to throw again with the same energy and consistency as a dog and a tennis ball. After fifteen times I wore her out though. She's currently napping. What am I supposed to do to procrastinate now?
Randomly: I want to write an alternative history fantasy 20s-30s story. It'd give me so much pleasure to be able to devote time researching just twenty years of history. ONE DAY. Also... Bleach had this color page that featured Ichigo, Rukia, Inoue, and Renji in a LIBRARY. I so want that as a wallpaper. Libraries win. My house looks like a library--with shabbier shelving arrangements--so libraries feel "home-y" to me. |
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[Jun. 23rd, 2007|07:11 am] |
Just for the moment, everything is good. I'm filled with a warm, comfortable, peaceful feeling.
Almost 6,000 words I do not loath written. I could weep for joy. It's good. There's no holes that I can spot. It's clean. It's pretty. It's descriptive. Loads of things happen. It has been rewritten and tweaked eight times.
I think I can get the first part of the story done in 25,000 words. That would be ideal. My real hope is that I can conquer this whole thing in 300,000-350,000 words. The first part is the shortest and I'm imagining the whole story completed in five parts.
I'm also working on a winamp skin. It's Saiyuki's Son Goku with his Year of the Boar mask.
Things that suck though: Dull life stuff. I have to make a grocery list when I have no money to really buy much in the way of groceries. I've been eating berries and milk for days. I want food. I'm too good of a cook to not be allowed to use my talents. lol I will also be forced to cut the grass once it stops raining and the grass has properly dried. And apparently I am the only person that I know who is a girl, under thirty, who cuts her own grass. What the hell? Please FList, tell me I am wrong! It annoys me that I must undergo this grass-cutting-burden every week and no one who is a woman and my around my age--that I know--is suffering through this as well. So raise hands all ye grass cutters. Proudly declare that once a week, or a week and a half, you struggle diligently to cut ye own yard.
Gintama is a hysterical. All the anime parodying? Priceless. Gintoki as a protagonist? Very nice change from the standard JUMP hero. A lazy, apathetic, sleepy-eyed main character? I feel like Gintoki and Spike Spiegel may have formed a quick and lasting friendship. Gintoki would be drinking his strawberry milk (there are no words for how disgusting that sounds) and Spike with something alcoholic. It has that same quality as Cowboy Bebop of mixing a surreal futuristic world that doesn't seem that different from the present--excepting space travel and such--with parodying pop culture. Gintama just focuses more on parodying shounen series in general. |
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[Jun. 15th, 2007|06:24 am] |
Calling a 30-year-old woman a "spinster" is really, really tasteless and downright ridiculous. I can easily imagine seven years coming and going without any prospects of marriage entering into my life from now till then. So me being single, without a partner, at 30 definitely does not sound improbable. If anyone calls me a spinster at 30, do you think it'd be unkind of me to show them how hard a 30-year-old spinster can punch? Haha. Just kidding!
Why is it that I've only ever heard women use the term "spinster"? Is it sort of like how rarely does anyone except women and doctors call breasts, breasts? I'm sure a man has. But I've never heard a man say "spinster." And if I do, he'll probably be geriatric. Now everyone feel free to tell me how they know twenty men who've used the term. I may just feel better knowing it isn't just our own sex being this way.
Random: After years of not, I miss being a part of an active forum. I like discussing things. If anyone has a forum to recommend I'd love to know about it. |
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[May. 21st, 2007|03:24 am] |
magicnoire brought to our attention a posting by Buffy creator, Joss Whedon that can be found here.
After reading it, if you're not feeling furious, or sad, or at least nodding your head with a sense of resolve than something is wrong. And really, something has to be wrong. With most of us. Why the hell does stuff like this even happen? Are we not above this? How much longer do I, or any other woman, have to tolerate being seen as less than a man simply because I/she am/is not a man? It's unfathomable, illogical, and ridiculous. I can't wrap my head around it. I'm an equalitarian, an environmentalist, and an activist simply because I cannot, absolutely cannot, live any other way. If I didn't spend some time each week trying to make an impression on someone (even if it's myself) to be more fair, more understanding, to think for themselves, to be more skeptical, to no be so much like sheep herded, than I'd hate myself.
Am I alone in this? I don't feel morally superior. I am, quite frankly, well aware that I am far from virtuous. Yes, what makes a person moral and virtuous is no written in stone. I have told lies. I have kept many secrets. I have deceived. I have judged. I am imperfect. But it has absolutely nothing, nothing at all, to do with my sexuality. I am not vile. I am not "incomplete." I am, certainly, not weak. And I would never throw a stone at anyone for something so petty.
Even if you won't call yourself a feminist, or an equalitarian, or anything else--because "eww" bra-burners and soap-boxers--at the very least don't ever wish to be anything other than what you are. It's a silly, pointless, and destructive process. But most of all it's sad. You are not incapable of change. No one is so far fixed in their personality that they cannot change their views, their ambitions, their way of thinking. Hell, you can even change your very biology with enough money.
If a person can't follow Whedon's advice on trying to make a difference, even in little ways than at the very least it isn't hard to curb the self-loathing, especially if you're feeling this way over your own sex. The more I accept myself, as I am the more I can accept others.
I absolutely will not apologize. I have my own sense of morality: if someone strikes me, I'll strike back twice as hard. Not because I'm filled with wrath or a sense of vengeance, or believe in an "eye for an eye," but because they need to learn the lesson that some things are unacceptable. That lesson needs to be taught until it's understood--by everyone.
So yes, my way is a little untoward even backwards and nonsensical to some. But it works. It really, really does. And we, as a culture, and especially we, as women need to stop being so quiet over this stuff because we're afraid of seeming "preachy" or "difficult." It's time to slap back. |
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[Mar. 9th, 2007|02:09 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | request | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Love Spirals Downwards - Stir About the Stars | ] |
OK everyone, that time has come again. I have a favor. I need song titles that deal with death, preferably of the classic nature. Examples:
Blue Öyster Cult's (Don't Fear) The Reaper and The Shangri-La's Leader of the Pack.
This isn't some weird whim either. I actually need to know titles and I have poor recollection for song titles when I actually, really need them. Sorry for giving no explanation and thanks goes to anyone who comes up with some good ones (or any at all). |
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