Backdated not like woah
Dead end road at the end of the day
Written April 19, 2006
Should probably stop listening to Gary Allan’s “Life Ain’t Always Beautiful” but, well, can’t. (I got it from this Rayne song-list.) People who don’t like Country should listen to it. Suckity suck day today, in which I went to work (had nothing to do, so worked some more on the French website) then to class (didn’t feel like participating at all) then read the cartoon “Zits” in the bookstore for an hour. Then I walked and walked and walked to the Ministry of Education office, which was closed (9am-2pm, the lazy bastards) and walked and walked and walked to the Goethe Institute which was, according to the doorman/stranger, also closed. So that was a very wasted day.
I made a fool of myself emailing Nicky (obsessive24) because I could have sworn I saw a vid of hers on YouTube (she has a trademark watermark). She said she hadn’t made a vid by that title but that maybe it’s been expropriated. I only realized it wasn’t hers at all later: turns out I’m either incredibly blind or messed up somewhere. But I wrote it in my diary and all. I’m sure I saw a vid of hers on YouTube.
[Note to Self: Send a completely “omg squee” appreciation to her email for her “Post-Blue” vid. Abso-fucking-excellent editing, with a quick pace all around. Hell, she’s one of my favourite vidders. Oh, and ask her what the Chinese characters in the opening credits and somewhere in the middle mean.]
On the way there, this old man asked me: “Did you know you’re pretty? Did you know that?” Thanks, old man.
Why is it only creepy old men who tell me I’m pretty?!
Then I came home (inhabitants=1) and collapsed on the bed and read old metaquotes and other stuff for four hours, whereupon I watched two eps of House, MD (the LLCoolJ one and the one with the cancer-stricken girl). I am such a House/Wilson shipper, I might actually have to read some fic. Then it was midnight and I showered and washed my hair and here I am.
The Ministry of Education sent me a letter saying the photocopy of my diploma, the one I sent them with some four stamps attestifying to it’s integrity (i.e. “this is not a lie”), wasn’t stamped to attestify it’s integrity. Wft, The Man, wtf. And they also want me to tell them what academic equivalent it is that I’m trying to get. Which I do believe I told them: Bachelor of Science in Biology. We do still have those in Spain, don’t we?
Am trying to find the copy/pasted Alianora’s "Birdy" “Wingtip” fic, which I’m sure must be on my laptop somewhere. It’s 1 am, of course, and I haven’t done my homework, ergo the perfect time to find and possibly read fics. Although, I didn’t break down into a puddle of goo, which seemed to be an ongoing process today. Here’s a round-up post for the fic, currently at 15 chapters.
Called brother yesterday. Had one of our completely useless conversations, in which neither of us had anything to say, really.
Oh, and Nathan Fillion was at one time named (or almost named, or going to be named) People's Sexiest Man Alive. So woo.
Yesterday I stayed up late reading River/Simon fics (that’s CSI, crazy space incest, for those not in the know). Some were heartbreakingly gorgeous, like Ranaeressea’s Levels of Attachment, Shyday’s Invisible Lines of Propriety and Te’s Logos.
Rickmaniac101’s Deserted, a Jayne-centric, broke my heart into little pieces.
So, because I really should be sleeping, and because having a burning laptop on my lap is excellent at 1 in the morning, I’m going to read “Wingtip”. Because I can and because the copy/pasted files of “Beauty and the Mess” and “Next of Kin” are way too disorganized to read right now. (And, apparently, missing some chapters. *curses*)
Also, have various icon tutorials saved up. Might apply to the fireflicons challenge (a screencap one) because inspiration up and jumped off a cliff. Ditto for writing. Made little splat sounds when they hit.
Edit: Done and done.
Haven’t read through contract, nor signed it. Didn’t show it to uncle (a lawyer) because he wasn’t really home all that much these holidays. Sigh.
It’s 2:23 am and I’ve spent all this time making an icon-post. But not an actual icon-post. Rather, a post using icons as little slide-show helpers. Good god this isn’t good for me, is it?
Particularly because I also insist on reading one chappy of “Wing Tip”.
Omg, I’m either a genius or insane. But I’m so pleased with the icon-post. Missing two icons, both of which are relatively easy to find. Seriously, way too pleased with the post. (OMG, a total of 45 icons 59 used, with two more to go.)
Stop me, please.
It’s 2:46 and I’ve got 5 hours of sleep to look forward to. If I fall asleep now. Which, well, no.
Read up to part 14 (i.e. all the part’s I have). The story is bloody gorgeous and I think I might cry for how changed Jayne is. He’s broken . Must comment and check it for updates.
The Hedgehog!
Written April 19, 2006
Not only do I have the “Sinister Ducks” song, but I now also have The Hedgehog can never be Buggered at all (or, well, Warren Martian’s version from L Space). Glee.
CHORUS:
”The spines on his back are too sharp for a man
They'll give you a pain in the worst place they can
The result I think you'll find will appal:
The hedgehog can never be buggered at all!”
Others, however, claim that the hedgehog can be buggered, if only with a little will, skill and shaving of prickles. Beethoven might be rolling over in his grave at this recording (scroll down to “Every Hedgehog”).
Writing reduced to naming guns
Written April 20, 2006
I’ve just typed out 724 words of a new fic, “All Things Copper”, which I wrote in Starbucks yesterday. Amazingly, I think I might manage to not write an extended prologue or epilogue to the main scene I have in my head. Mainly because it’s sort of a missing scene in Firefly ep. 1x08, Out of Gas, though, and because I really can’t stick it into my main Jayne fic. (A fic which is seriously lacking in the “oomph” department of plot. It doesn’t seem to have a lot of energy moving it, but then, I do take ages to write anything in it. And the bar scene is killing me.) As the title says, I’ve added a new gun to my little fake collection of The Vicar and Delcat 52: Teppic 84. I don’t know why I put the numbers. I don’t know enough about guns to figure out the calibre and the barrel size, but it seems more gun-y to have a number. (Teppic, btw, is the main character in TPratchett’s Pyramids which I started reading in the British Council library and have yet to finish.)
I’ve been listening to the Hedgehog song way too many times today, alternating with the Sinister Duck song. Am still pleased. “Life ain’t always beautiful”, thanks to some solid hours of repeat, no longer makes me break down and cry. Unless I reallylisten to it, that is.
Tomorrow, Friday, I’m going to lay some serious shit down on the Ministry of Education. Pfft, rejecting papers for no logical reason. Bums. Going with MCarmen in the morning, so no work (except for a quick translation in the pm.) Yesterday I spoke with someone in Turkey, basically saying, “why the hell haven’t you answered our last 5 emails? Come on, we’re almost giving you the stuff!”.
Edit: Useless. Have to resend paper again.
Spoke with mom yesterday for ages. We’re not very happy girls, either of us.
However, parents are coming Tuesday, and we’ll go touristing starting on Wednesday (screw French!). So yay. (No word on whether mom got Serenity but I’ll be very upset if she hasn’t. Seven months of wanting to see this, people. Seven!)
Oh god, sorting out the credits for the 59 icons in the icon-post is going to hurt. A lot. And the html? That will hurt too.
Y’know? I don’t understand people who post stories they wrote the night before at 3 am on a suger-high. Sure, they write a little apologetic A/N with the story, but that doesn’t cut no mustard. Not even one read through? Good god, what about a spell check? But this urgency to post without even going over what you wrote, I don’t understand. Me, I re-read each scene over a vast and embarrassing number of times. I always manage to fix something, or add something.
Speaking of, I think I might be able to get “All Things Copper” on its fully-formed feet in the near future. (Not that I’ll write it all this weekend, and then there’s my parents, but it’s supposed to be short and relatively easy to write.) I hope it’s alright that I’m using you, dear readers of this humble LJ, as guinea pigs for my writing. (If, that is, you chose to read the blasted thing at all.) I’d just like some gentle feedback before sending my writing out into the world.
I’ve been considering posting my We’re all girls here one to start with over at rayne_shippers, ‘cause it’s slightly Rayne-ish (i.e. Jayne/River). It stands alone quite well, and I’m happy with it. Except for the “can’t write angry” and “enough/too much description” problem. Anywho, if anyone’d like to comment on it, or something, feel free to do so. Yes, I realize people are kind in that community, but I’m a shy little chicken, ok?
K promised to give me feedback on Leave-taking. *taps foot impatiently*
Note: Don’t squish bugs against your computer screen, or you might end up with bug corpses stuck inside the keyboard. Eeek.
Written April 19, 2006
Should probably stop listening to Gary Allan’s “Life Ain’t Always Beautiful” but, well, can’t. (I got it from this Rayne song-list.) People who don’t like Country should listen to it. Suckity suck day today, in which I went to work (had nothing to do, so worked some more on the French website) then to class (didn’t feel like participating at all) then read the cartoon “Zits” in the bookstore for an hour. Then I walked and walked and walked to the Ministry of Education office, which was closed (9am-2pm, the lazy bastards) and walked and walked and walked to the Goethe Institute which was, according to the doorman/stranger, also closed. So that was a very wasted day.
I made a fool of myself emailing Nicky (obsessive24) because I could have sworn I saw a vid of hers on YouTube (she has a trademark watermark). She said she hadn’t made a vid by that title but that maybe it’s been expropriated. I only realized it wasn’t hers at all later: turns out I’m either incredibly blind or messed up somewhere. But I wrote it in my diary and all. I’m sure I saw a vid of hers on YouTube.
[Note to Self: Send a completely “omg squee” appreciation to her email for her “Post-Blue” vid. Abso-fucking-excellent editing, with a quick pace all around. Hell, she’s one of my favourite vidders. Oh, and ask her what the Chinese characters in the opening credits and somewhere in the middle mean.]
On the way there, this old man asked me: “Did you know you’re pretty? Did you know that?” Thanks, old man.
Why is it only creepy old men who tell me I’m pretty?!
Then I came home (inhabitants=1) and collapsed on the bed and read old metaquotes and other stuff for four hours, whereupon I watched two eps of House, MD (the LLCoolJ one and the one with the cancer-stricken girl). I am such a House/Wilson shipper, I might actually have to read some fic. Then it was midnight and I showered and washed my hair and here I am.
The Ministry of Education sent me a letter saying the photocopy of my diploma, the one I sent them with some four stamps attestifying to it’s integrity (i.e. “this is not a lie”), wasn’t stamped to attestify it’s integrity. Wft, The Man, wtf. And they also want me to tell them what academic equivalent it is that I’m trying to get. Which I do believe I told them: Bachelor of Science in Biology. We do still have those in Spain, don’t we?
Am trying to find the copy/pasted Alianora’s "Birdy" “Wingtip” fic, which I’m sure must be on my laptop somewhere. It’s 1 am, of course, and I haven’t done my homework, ergo the perfect time to find and possibly read fics. Although, I didn’t break down into a puddle of goo, which seemed to be an ongoing process today. Here’s a round-up post for the fic, currently at 15 chapters.
Called brother yesterday. Had one of our completely useless conversations, in which neither of us had anything to say, really.
Oh, and Nathan Fillion was at one time named (or almost named, or going to be named) People's Sexiest Man Alive. So woo.
Yesterday I stayed up late reading River/Simon fics (that’s CSI, crazy space incest, for those not in the know). Some were heartbreakingly gorgeous, like Ranaeressea’s Levels of Attachment, Shyday’s Invisible Lines of Propriety and Te’s Logos.
Rickmaniac101’s Deserted, a Jayne-centric, broke my heart into little pieces.
So, because I really should be sleeping, and because having a burning laptop on my lap is excellent at 1 in the morning, I’m going to read “Wingtip”. Because I can and because the copy/pasted files of “Beauty and the Mess” and “Next of Kin” are way too disorganized to read right now. (And, apparently, missing some chapters. *curses*)
Also, have various icon tutorials saved up. Might apply to the fireflicons challenge (a screencap one) because inspiration up and jumped off a cliff. Ditto for writing. Made little splat sounds when they hit.
Edit: Done and done.
Haven’t read through contract, nor signed it. Didn’t show it to uncle (a lawyer) because he wasn’t really home all that much these holidays. Sigh.
It’s 2:23 am and I’ve spent all this time making an icon-post. But not an actual icon-post. Rather, a post using icons as little slide-show helpers. Good god this isn’t good for me, is it?
Particularly because I also insist on reading one chappy of “Wing Tip”.
Omg, I’m either a genius or insane. But I’m so pleased with the icon-post. Missing two icons, both of which are relatively easy to find. Seriously, way too pleased with the post. (OMG, a total of 45 icons 59 used, with two more to go.)
Stop me, please.
It’s 2:46 and I’ve got 5 hours of sleep to look forward to. If I fall asleep now. Which, well, no.
Read up to part 14 (i.e. all the part’s I have). The story is bloody gorgeous and I think I might cry for how changed Jayne is. He’s broken . Must comment and check it for updates.
The Hedgehog!
Written April 19, 2006
Not only do I have the “Sinister Ducks” song, but I now also have The Hedgehog can never be Buggered at all (or, well, Warren Martian’s version from L Space). Glee.
CHORUS:
”The spines on his back are too sharp for a man
They'll give you a pain in the worst place they can
The result I think you'll find will appal:
The hedgehog can never be buggered at all!”
Others, however, claim that the hedgehog can be buggered, if only with a little will, skill and shaving of prickles. Beethoven might be rolling over in his grave at this recording (scroll down to “Every Hedgehog”).
Writing reduced to naming guns
Written April 20, 2006
I’ve just typed out 724 words of a new fic, “All Things Copper”, which I wrote in Starbucks yesterday. Amazingly, I think I might manage to not write an extended prologue or epilogue to the main scene I have in my head. Mainly because it’s sort of a missing scene in Firefly ep. 1x08, Out of Gas, though, and because I really can’t stick it into my main Jayne fic. (A fic which is seriously lacking in the “oomph” department of plot. It doesn’t seem to have a lot of energy moving it, but then, I do take ages to write anything in it. And the bar scene is killing me.) As the title says, I’ve added a new gun to my little fake collection of The Vicar and Delcat 52: Teppic 84. I don’t know why I put the numbers. I don’t know enough about guns to figure out the calibre and the barrel size, but it seems more gun-y to have a number. (Teppic, btw, is the main character in TPratchett’s Pyramids which I started reading in the British Council library and have yet to finish.)
I’ve been listening to the Hedgehog song way too many times today, alternating with the Sinister Duck song. Am still pleased. “Life ain’t always beautiful”, thanks to some solid hours of repeat, no longer makes me break down and cry. Unless I reallylisten to it, that is.
Tomorrow, Friday, I’m going to lay some serious shit down on the Ministry of Education. Pfft, rejecting papers for no logical reason. Bums. Going with MCarmen in the morning, so no work (except for a quick translation in the pm.) Yesterday I spoke with someone in Turkey, basically saying, “why the hell haven’t you answered our last 5 emails? Come on, we’re almost giving you the stuff!”.
Edit: Useless. Have to resend paper again.
Spoke with mom yesterday for ages. We’re not very happy girls, either of us.
However, parents are coming Tuesday, and we’ll go touristing starting on Wednesday (screw French!). So yay. (No word on whether mom got Serenity but I’ll be very upset if she hasn’t. Seven months of wanting to see this, people. Seven!)
Oh god, sorting out the credits for the 59 icons in the icon-post is going to hurt. A lot. And the html? That will hurt too.
Y’know? I don’t understand people who post stories they wrote the night before at 3 am on a suger-high. Sure, they write a little apologetic A/N with the story, but that doesn’t cut no mustard. Not even one read through? Good god, what about a spell check? But this urgency to post without even going over what you wrote, I don’t understand. Me, I re-read each scene over a vast and embarrassing number of times. I always manage to fix something, or add something.
Speaking of, I think I might be able to get “All Things Copper” on its fully-formed feet in the near future. (Not that I’ll write it all this weekend, and then there’s my parents, but it’s supposed to be short and relatively easy to write.) I hope it’s alright that I’m using you, dear readers of this humble LJ, as guinea pigs for my writing. (If, that is, you chose to read the blasted thing at all.) I’d just like some gentle feedback before sending my writing out into the world.
I’ve been considering posting my We’re all girls here one to start with over at rayne_shippers, ‘cause it’s slightly Rayne-ish (i.e. Jayne/River). It stands alone quite well, and I’m happy with it. Except for the “can’t write angry” and “enough/too much description” problem. Anywho, if anyone’d like to comment on it, or something, feel free to do so. Yes, I realize people are kind in that community, but I’m a shy little chicken, ok?
K promised to give me feedback on Leave-taking. *taps foot impatiently*
Note: Don’t squish bugs against your computer screen, or you might end up with bug corpses stuck inside the keyboard. Eeek.