bloody freaking teenager
After the computer died for a few days and was resurrected by our friendly neighborhood witch-doctor, everything's peachy except that I've lost all my computer preferences. It means nothing except that now I actually have an excuse to spend positively decadent amounts of time reading fanfic and restocking all my bookmark sources. Shoss!
There's really no reason to be hanging around LJ at 2:00 in the morning like some derelict homo hobo, except that it's the freaking PASSOVER VACATION and aside from theater construction work, math tests, moving out of the house and catching up with my compatriots at Ironi Aleph, I am absolutely obligation-free and can lounge around watching quintessential dramas or mocking German literature at my leisure. (IN YOUR FACE STEPPENWOLF.) I really want to get some writing done, but for now it's enough that I can sleep 13 hours a day and shake my ass to get free taxi rides.
Went to see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie this weekend, with Oren and his friend Oded. Who has, uh, seriously prettified since I last saw him. Army does wonders to some people's physiques. And he brought me flowers when he picked us up and complimented me on my clothes and listened to me play the piano, then spent two hours letting me steal his popcorn and discourse, by turns, Nickelback and the current MARVEL plots. I've had uncomfortable dates spring up like a bad rash lately, and this? Was not even a date, and was STILL the most fun outing I've had in a while. Oren didn't even intrude, for the most part. And while Hollywood would have us believe that when a girl and her big brother's best friend start making inappropriate innuendo remarks at each other, something is ON, yo, I'm just generally thankful for someone to talk about Spiderman with.
(BTW, what is this I hear about the whole Evolve or Die saga and the new Spidey-outfit of Great Black Velcro Sex, y'all? MARVEL has upped their crack-smoking levels to rival DC's Infinite Crisis period, I see. ♥♥)
I haven't once mentioned my menstrual shenanigans yet, which, to my hazy and vaguely intoxicated mind, is somewhat of an accomplishment. I'm not going to start now, though, so just know that while this entry has ventured pretty low, there are depths to which I will NOT sink. Hahaha.
Now that I have computer again, I can get back to writing the crossover. If only I had what to write! Aslfknalgkshd.
The yellow light beeping behind my eyelids is oh, so very pretty.
I'd like to make a public announcement:
I'm a bloody teenager.
And so far mostly clear-headed, while starting to think that all of society's constant jabbering about hostile hormonal takeovers and my brain simmering in a puddle of short-circuited neurons is a bunch of rot. I'm contradictory, shallow, dramatic, and in a constant state of unperturbed agitation. I try to be nice like Bertie Wooster and Zen like Reginald Jeeves (except for the parts about the MASSIVELY REPRESSED SEXUALITIES which come part and packet with these characters).
I am so far asexual, or pansexual, or bibliosexual, or of the opinion that modern compartmentalization and the unending lust for stereotypical labeling is even more rot than the hormonal takeovers.
Like most kids my age, I live half in the virtual world, half in the real one, and somewhere out there is a girl who would dubiously admit to being my wife, and I have never once heard her voice. I am absolutely and completely fine with that; in fact, I suspect that's part of what makes me love her. On the other hand, 'virtual relationships' don't translate into 'free love' and certainly not into 'cybersex', so I wish a few people in my life would back the hell off and get a grip. I want to be everything and do everything, but yesterday I started to realize that maybe some things are better off being done than others. I'll get back to you on that.
All in all, it can pretty much be summarized by:
I am, unrelentingly and inexorably, a bloody. Freaking. Teenager.
That will be all from your resident miarr. ♥
There's really no reason to be hanging around LJ at 2:00 in the morning like some derelict homo hobo, except that it's the freaking PASSOVER VACATION and aside from theater construction work, math tests, moving out of the house and catching up with my compatriots at Ironi Aleph, I am absolutely obligation-free and can lounge around watching quintessential dramas or mocking German literature at my leisure. (IN YOUR FACE STEPPENWOLF.) I really want to get some writing done, but for now it's enough that I can sleep 13 hours a day and shake my ass to get free taxi rides.
Went to see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie this weekend, with Oren and his friend Oded. Who has, uh, seriously prettified since I last saw him. Army does wonders to some people's physiques. And he brought me flowers when he picked us up and complimented me on my clothes and listened to me play the piano, then spent two hours letting me steal his popcorn and discourse, by turns, Nickelback and the current MARVEL plots. I've had uncomfortable dates spring up like a bad rash lately, and this? Was not even a date, and was STILL the most fun outing I've had in a while. Oren didn't even intrude, for the most part. And while Hollywood would have us believe that when a girl and her big brother's best friend start making inappropriate innuendo remarks at each other, something is ON, yo, I'm just generally thankful for someone to talk about Spiderman with.
(BTW, what is this I hear about the whole Evolve or Die saga and the new Spidey-outfit of Great Black Velcro Sex, y'all? MARVEL has upped their crack-smoking levels to rival DC's Infinite Crisis period, I see. ♥♥)
I haven't once mentioned my menstrual shenanigans yet, which, to my hazy and vaguely intoxicated mind, is somewhat of an accomplishment. I'm not going to start now, though, so just know that while this entry has ventured pretty low, there are depths to which I will NOT sink. Hahaha.
Now that I have computer again, I can get back to writing the crossover. If only I had what to write! Aslfknalgkshd.
The yellow light beeping behind my eyelids is oh, so very pretty.
I'd like to make a public announcement:
I'm a bloody teenager.
And so far mostly clear-headed, while starting to think that all of society's constant jabbering about hostile hormonal takeovers and my brain simmering in a puddle of short-circuited neurons is a bunch of rot. I'm contradictory, shallow, dramatic, and in a constant state of unperturbed agitation. I try to be nice like Bertie Wooster and Zen like Reginald Jeeves (except for the parts about the MASSIVELY REPRESSED SEXUALITIES which come part and packet with these characters).
I am so far asexual, or pansexual, or bibliosexual, or of the opinion that modern compartmentalization and the unending lust for stereotypical labeling is even more rot than the hormonal takeovers.
Like most kids my age, I live half in the virtual world, half in the real one, and somewhere out there is a girl who would dubiously admit to being my wife, and I have never once heard her voice. I am absolutely and completely fine with that; in fact, I suspect that's part of what makes me love her. On the other hand, 'virtual relationships' don't translate into 'free love' and certainly not into 'cybersex', so I wish a few people in my life would back the hell off and get a grip. I want to be everything and do everything, but yesterday I started to realize that maybe some things are better off being done than others. I'll get back to you on that.
All in all, it can pretty much be summarized by:
I am, unrelentingly and inexorably, a bloody. Freaking. Teenager.
That will be all from your resident miarr. ♥