Catching Signals That Sound in the Dark
I discovered that by standing in random, inconvenient parts of my mom's condo and doing a wriggly little dance to the interweb gods I can mooch from a neighbor's wireless internet. This doesn't work so well for actually using the interwebs, unless I wanted to sit on top of an armoire and type. It works very well, though, for using the lovely combination of Alluc.org and Veoh to watch teevee.
Right now I'm communicating via a weak little ghost signal that I sometimes pick up from the couch.
I hung out with Tori-kins and her crew for an indordinate amount of time this week. One of our activities was going to see Pirates of the Carribean: At Worlds End. What a terrible, terrible movie. I shall dub this summer "The Summer of Dissappointing Sequels". Yet I'm still going to squeal like a twelve-year-old fangirl when the new Harry Potter book and movie come out.
Oh. And I'm still jobless. None of the multitude of places I applied to have decided to contact me. This means that when I go back to New England on Friday I can look forward to a couple days of filling out applications again. Wonderful.
I was writing two separate stories ("Bookgirl and the Mystery of the Dead Gods" and "Apophenia") when I suddenly thought, "Hey, these two characters should MEET. It will be AWESOME." So I'm doing that now and systemically ruining myself.
I have no money and I'm writing shit. If I ever feel the urge to get an M.F.A. I'll have to remind myself of this period in my life.
Right now I'm communicating via a weak little ghost signal that I sometimes pick up from the couch.
I hung out with Tori-kins and her crew for an indordinate amount of time this week. One of our activities was going to see Pirates of the Carribean: At Worlds End. What a terrible, terrible movie. I shall dub this summer "The Summer of Dissappointing Sequels". Yet I'm still going to squeal like a twelve-year-old fangirl when the new Harry Potter book and movie come out.
Oh. And I'm still jobless. None of the multitude of places I applied to have decided to contact me. This means that when I go back to New England on Friday I can look forward to a couple days of filling out applications again. Wonderful.
I was writing two separate stories ("Bookgirl and the Mystery of the Dead Gods" and "Apophenia") when I suddenly thought, "Hey, these two characters should MEET. It will be AWESOME." So I'm doing that now and systemically ruining myself.
I have no money and I'm writing shit. If I ever feel the urge to get an M.F.A. I'll have to remind myself of this period in my life.