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i bit my tongue in my sleep.

::frown:: ow.

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fuck.

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the phone keeps ringing. i think this is a sign that i need to get up. ::looks around:: this is why i hate packing. i always forget stuff. last year my parents had to send me three packages of forgotten things. with capital letters, yo. who's the princess, bitch. yeah, i'm tired. maybe i'll have a star trek marathon today. all my jewelry doesn't fit in my jewelry box anymore. what's UP with that, yo. ::yawn::

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i don't like packing. at all. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

i seem to be able to fit everything if i leave out shampoo, etc., my phone, and paddington (my teddy bear). but all three of these things are essential. goddammit.

in theory one can buy toiletries in mass., but the only place in walking distance is the downtown cvs with the hugely inflated prices, where buying pantene is inadvisable at best. i NEED the phone, though. urk.

don't leave home without it

last night i bit my tongue, and it still hurts whenever i accidentally touch the scrape with my teeth.

in my suitcase, besides clothing.

movies i absolutely cannot live without:
singin in the rain (gene kelly, debbie reynolds, donald o'connor)
star trek iv: the voyage home (shatner, nimoy)(kirk. spock. made. for. each. other. EEE!)
star trek eps: "mirror, mirror," "amok time," "the changeling," the one where everyone gets drunk
my pitiful three season three due south eps (ray. fraser. soinlove. eee. tm. thank you.)

books i cannot live without:
dealing with dragons. patricia wrede.
witch week (the old, and far superior, harry potter). diana wynne jones.
by samuel delany, yet to be read: driftglass, the jewels of aptor, tales of neveryon, dhalgren.

other random stuff:
harry potter baby blanket and paddington bear
jewelry box with brooches from my grandmother, beaded bracelets, and girl scout gold award pin
knee high black leather boots, suede-soled dancing shoes, shearling slippers, black kitten-heeled strappy mules, 2 pr flipflops, brown felt birkenstock clogs

while the fingertips of her beauty touched ice to my soul

my little not-cousins asked out of the blue when i was coming back! awwwwwwwwwwwwww.

this song (tatu's nas nie dogonyiat) is so techno that i thought the phone ringing was part of the song.

::snort::

holls has to work today and steve is--does he have class? no, i don't think so. maybe he's still asleep. perhaps i'll make breakfast. i'm insane. all my stuff is going to fit in my suitcase, after all. yay. so now i just have THREE ENTIRE DAYS TO KILL without going out of my mind.

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my new seafoam-green bra is missing.

kill him first--it is my right to see him die.

sometimes i forget how much i love star trek.

kirk! spock! ::siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh::

and in intricate bits she will tear you apart.

everyone is doing a gun-to-your-head thing invented by julad, and i'd just like to say, therefore, that i don't think there is any writer i could survive entirely on. and if i were going to be stranded on a desert island with just one writer, i'd pick a pro one, not a fanfic one. fanfic is a small and temporary high, and it takes a lot more of it to do the same sort of thing you get out of a good novel. and again.

even if i could have any pro writer of my choice, i'm not certain how it would work. i might just pick one of my favorite writers so that i could have my favorite specific books of theirs among the twenty (not sure which, though --cherryh? delany? saberhagen? zelazny? bujold? van scyoc? jones? wrede? yolen? heyer? willis?)

(speaking of which, i haven't read anything of syndney j van scyoc's for a while, and she was never very well-known, but she writes the most brilliant fantasy and science fiction, a sort of dreamy fusion of ideas with overtones of melancholy and epic, without getting too long.)

i go through phases with fanfiction, too, so i don't know if i could pick four writers that i'd be happy to read at any given time.

the more i think about this, the more the thought of being on a desert island with minimal reading material distresses me. and THEN it starts to piss me off.

some of my favorite fanfic writers, though: jat sapphire and k'sal for star trek. resonant8 for due south. also speranza and crysothemis. ladonna king and cori lannam in star wars. billthepony in lord of the rings. uhmidont, more often than not, in nsync. it's a very specific sort of taste, though. there are other writers i like a lot in nsync, but i'm getting so sick of the fandom that i probably wouldn't bring anything from it with me.

i think i'd rather read my favorite writers writing the worlds of their own creation, however, than fanfic i could come up with for them. i trust their imaginations and their taste, and i've already learned that i like what they come up with on their own quite well.

my favorite shoes, much talked of since last spring:

red leather, red and white tweed, bowling shoe-styled, driving moccasin soled.



( Read more... )

posted in an effort to make myself feel better, because i've been in the grip of major lust for sneakers lately, which cliokat, who evidently owns nearly as many pairs of sneakers as i would like to, keeps inadvertently making worse by mentioning hers. then the other day, my little baby jonathan had on these red suede new balances--like the normal gray ones but candy apple red--i was just like a puddle of goo in church. i swear my reaction to shoes is like my reaction to fraser and ray making out, or the melting look between kirk and spock in star trek i. want. shoes. must. have. shoes. so anyway, i adore THESE shoes, and it's no disloyalty to them that i want some new ones, no, indeed. i just. can't help it. ::whimper::

wishing my life away with these things i'll never say

i really love this song, and 'complicated' annoys the fuck out of me too, but this one's catchy with no hint of the annoying put-ons in her accent and some gorgeous acoustic guitar solos. i highly recommend it.

I’m staring at my feet
My checks are turning red
I’m searching for the words inside my head

(Cause) I’m feeling nervous
Trying to be so perfect
Cause I know you’re worth it

( full lyrics lurking behind the cut-tag )

(no subject)

shower taken. bra still missing. read the most godawful x-men story imaginable, at holls's insistence. nearly fell over laughing.

two hot dogs for dinner, and we bought black-and-cream toile cheap in the remnants--only $6/yard--for blinds for the dining room, which we are redecorating. i don't know if i could have stayed around my mother for much longer than that, though. she's got an amazing talent for going on and on and on about things i don't want to listen to.

a new color for bruises on my leg: blue! and this one ABOVE the knee (although only just). is this some kind of subconscious imperative now?

odd, though. elbows are definitely pornier.

OTP! OTP! kirk and spock are sooooooooooooo in love. ::blissful sigh::

oh, yeah, and. i watched a bunch of tos eps today including the corbomite maneuver.

i'm sure i noticed it the first time around and then forgot it, but god, it's emotionally a goldmine! it's ripe for slashing.

all the crew who were exposed on the planet to radiation start aging super-fast. jim's forgetting things and getting arthritis. mccoy goes entirely white. spock starts to gray, and moves more slowly. jim can't remember anything, really, and the commodore who just happens to be there demands a competency hearing. spock gives in. the commodore assumes command because spock refuses it. spock goes to tell him.

'get out,' jim says, 'i don't want to ever have to look at your face again.'

the pain in spock's face! and all through the episode, when he sees the errors jim is making and doesn't say anything, then when he argues with the commodore: 'i would... resist... such a suggestion.'

'mr spock, it's not a matter of CHOICE.'

he's already looking down, because he knows, god, that the blow is coming, and jim knows he's being irrational. i can almost hear him thinking--he feels so betrayed. 'spock, i wouldn't have thought it of you.' oh, and they're soinlove. ::sniffle:: their love is TRAGIC, but yet, so beautifully rife with opportunities for first-time-happy endings. i can never decide on just one point in canon where the first time has to have happened.

of course, that gol nonsense does a bit to screw it up, but mostly i just ignore that.

sweat nymph award nominee:

greenwich, a wolverine/gambit gem from fanfiction.net featuring such loveliness as victims not carrying "idea" and jean acting like a "bin bow." among others, naturally. nc-17, mid-length, made me roll about on the floor clutching my sides laughing at times and stare blankly and say 'buh?' at others.

turn it inside out so i can see
the part of you that's drifting over me
when i wake you're never there
and when i sleep you're everywhere
please tell me how i got this far
please tell me why you're here and who you are

i love jacquard.

especially yellow jacquard.

mmmmmh.