(no subject)

i keep dreaming that i can fly. although come to think of it, that last dream wasn't the same kind of flying i usually do. the really great part was that i was using this circus act as an excuse to murder someone, and then i had this really detailed dream of washing my hair about four times in a row.

is my subconscious trying to tell me something, you think? ::snort::

i said i was all about those moments of insight...

kmazzy is encouraging me to write smutty femmeslash as a block-breaker on this singin' in the rain story. missy elliot/nelly furtado, baby.

i'm thinking, now, that i'm going to really do it. dum dee dee dee.

no, i'm excited, though. hm. present tense, first person. haven't done that in a while... whose point of view, you think? probably nelly's. i can research some portuguese.

which brings me to a completely unrelated point. but i'd just like to say to everyone: I WANT TO LEARN PORTUGUESE! there's a huge population who speak it in massachusetts, where i go to school, but the school doesn't offer it. of course, why should they. at that kind of price they're not getting a lot of the local immigrant population, or much of any locals. a huge percentage are from private boarding schools in new england, and, natch, LA.

i'm not really bitter. just thoughtful. i've always been very elitist, which was bound up, for me, in not getting along well with very many other people. going to an elitist place has made me realize that the not wanting to be around other people doesn't really have anything to do with my intelligence or theirs or our political beliefs. i never relate well to groups of other people. and if i don't fit in at amherst, does that mean i wouldn't fit in anywhere? well, i'm not going to transfer to swarthmore to find out or anything. i guess i'll just wonder forever.

other literary sf fans: have you ever been stuck with the option of a highly media-focused sf club to attend--anime, for instance--or none at all? and what did you do? i've been mulling over this option for months now. can i bring myself to go to events advertised as 'sci fi'? i can't decide if it's worse if they know better or worse if they don't. ::sigh::

marilyn monroe icons

does anyone want either of these?




i've also got the first one plain, but the white lines are intended to go behind the tag.

(no subject)

hahaha. my room is so fucking narrow that i can sit on the opposite wall from the one my cable modem is on--in bed, that is to say, propped up in all my pillows--and the cord stretches. ahhh, the luxury! ::stretch::

in another brief break:

thought i was going to write smut, didn't you? hmph. so did i! but the serious story was ready to be worked on instead, oddly enough. i hope i still get around to the other.

i took the little cats--maine coones, empress and orpheus--to the vet in one pet carrier today. orpheus folded his paws under and settled down to nap with his head facing the back. empress crowded up against the little wire door and cried the whole way across town. then they crouched together in the back, both utterly silent, while i talked to the vet.

how can anyone be this cute, i ask you?

(no subject)

salt and vinegar potato chips. ::shiver:: they're evil, i tell you.

(no subject)

sorry about the multiple posts. i'm going to kill livejournal, for the record.

(no subject)

drove home with daddy in the rain, and with the cats, and my mom brought me some ferrero rocher from target, which she picked up on the way home from one of those continuing education workshops that teachers have to do. it's raining outside still, but now i just hear the hissing as cars speed through the puddles outside the window; earlier i had to slow below the speed limit just to be able to see out the window with the wipers turned up all the way. i could feel the car hydroplaning.

i love the rain. it's a fetish.

also i wrote about four pages single-spaced today. life is good.

panic attack

ummm... i don't think i can stand to go back to school next year.

am freaking out.

freaking. out.

(no subject)

okay. maybe i can. at least, i think i'm done freaking. my dad is really not very good at cheering me up, but he was trying awfully hard. in the end i had to cheer myself. should live closer to hollsk. she's quite good at it.

i wish it would storm some more--storms are pretty.

also, someone slap my wrist? am considering using the sympathy i got from my little depressive explosion to get someone to drive to the video store to do my errands with me. the thing is, i'm sure it would succeed.

princess all the way, baby. just not sure if that's a good thing. you know, when i was little i never thought that i was spoiled? it's just in the last year that i've realized i am. terribly, horribly, no-good, very bad... ::ahem::

for when the story is not only bad, but so bad that you can't figure out why the hell anyone would t

cim thing: i mean, somewhere, somehow, someone thought that it would be good to write this story. we should give things a sweat nymph award.
GhettoHobbit: Definitely
GhettoHobbit: How will we make the statue?
cim thing: congratulations! cim and holls can't figure out what kind of crack you were smoking, but keep it away from them!
cim thing: out of sweat?
cim thing: only... hm. :-( that's not very permanent!
GhettoHobbit: and smelly
cim thing: that too. sweat is a suitable material, though. hopefully we'll find another, equally suitable, yet more solid one.
GhettoHobbit: Frozen sweat glazed?
cim thing: ummmmmmmmmmmm, maybe not
cim thing: because what if it got hot?
cim thing: also, it's hard to sculpt with ice. harder than it looks, anyway
GhettoHobbit: Not too sure.....
GhettoHobbit: Spam?
cim thing: ah-HA!
cim thing: you may have found it.
cim thing: you can experiment and get back to me.