Revisionist History
So, one time Middlest Sister and I were talking, as one does, about how if you were a pop star or rock star or movie star/celebrity of note, and then you had a great big falling-out type scandal, and then you faded into obscurity for a few years, and then you had your comeback album or movie or tell-all expose novel-slash-photo spread in Us Magazine, the best title in the world for your comeback tour would be "Revisionist History". 'Cause A) I'm a bit of a history dork sometimes, and B) she was reviewing for an AP US history exam while we were conversing, and C) the winner of the conflict gets to write the history books, right, so this would be your (making-a-comeback-after-supreme-scandal!you, I mean....like Brittney, post-electric razors) chance to tell the world how things really went down, and D) hardly anyone else would get it - you'd have an in joke on your title page, and get to feel smug about being so much smarter than everyone else, as well as vindicated.
So, anyway. I've been part, "Holy crap, how come I don't remember doing this much work the last time I went to class? Oh, right - because you didn't actually go to class that time. That's why you're re-doing it all right now," and part, "I am the most unproductive person to ever exist on this planet. I have done nothing today, that proves I even exist. I didn't even wash the dishes. Or crochet a potholder. Ugh," and a little bit part, "If I hide from my inbox, the sad-making financial aid messages won't find me." Which in turn has led to me not actually making good choices when it comes to interacting with the rest of the world - 85-year-old hermits living on mountaintops wearing burlap sacks and eating tree bark have nothing on me these past few weeks, when it comes to internet connectivity and interacting with people who aren't in my immediate vicinity. Which, translated from run-on sentence into coherency, means that I owe people apologies and replies and feedback and podfic and general Look Alive-ness.
And this is the part where I flail a little bit, and also cower behind my laptop screen and hope that she doesn't strangle me with the powers of her mind, because one time I might have mentioned that Raven and Charles and Erik should take over the world as our Benevolent Dictators Of Mutants And Brotherhood And Threesomes, and then pprfaith wrote it all down in this amazing fashion, and the thing is, I haven't actually read it yet because I literally just logged in over here and saw that she kinda is actually entitled to at least maim me (for many offenses, not the least of which include the as-of-yet unposted birthday presents I meant to give on her actual birthday but haven't finished coverarting quite yet, and also because I said I'd sortakinda promised to read the draft of the fic in question, and I did, and I loved it, and then I never ever responded with my thoughts and instead hid from my email like the great big cowardly person I am. Because, clearly, if I do not open my inbox at all, not even for the X-Men, then the "You get no financial aid" email cannot find me, and I can continue living in blissful ignorance of the semester's tuition bill.) and also, tonight I seem to have temporarily mislaid my ability to use the 'period' key on my keyboard, because this sentence just WILL NOT STOP. Oh, look. It's over now. Phew.
The point being, everyone should go over and read The Weight of Water, and then I should also go over and read the final copy that I wasn't actually any help with (and I'm very sorry, I really really am; I'm not sure if run-on sentences are conveying my sincerity right now but I just can't seem to stop myself it's like verbal diarrhea of the keyboard right now, God!), and then I should grovel on my knees because I am, apparently, not someone that anyone should ever ask again to provide rough-draft feedback, okay? You want podfic? I'm your girl! Actually responding with critiques in a timely and helpful manner? .......Not so much. We live and learn, I guess (pprfaith learns that I should only be allowed to podfic her stories, and maybe provide flailly glee post-production.....and I hope to stay alive in the face of her (righteously deserved, because I was not exactly helpful in any way, shape, or form that I had promised to be) "I can kill you with my brain" powers).
So, um, that's that. I've got a single, shortish podfic to be posted tonight (it'll go in another entry, so that prospective podfic listeners in the future don't have to read all the way through this bit of brain-vomit to find it), and apologies to make and emails to reply to, so..... yup. That's all. Gonna stop typing any time now.....
So, anyway. I've been part, "Holy crap, how come I don't remember doing this much work the last time I went to class? Oh, right - because you didn't actually go to class that time. That's why you're re-doing it all right now," and part, "I am the most unproductive person to ever exist on this planet. I have done nothing today, that proves I even exist. I didn't even wash the dishes. Or crochet a potholder. Ugh," and a little bit part, "If I hide from my inbox, the sad-making financial aid messages won't find me." Which in turn has led to me not actually making good choices when it comes to interacting with the rest of the world - 85-year-old hermits living on mountaintops wearing burlap sacks and eating tree bark have nothing on me these past few weeks, when it comes to internet connectivity and interacting with people who aren't in my immediate vicinity. Which, translated from run-on sentence into coherency, means that I owe people apologies and replies and feedback and podfic and general Look Alive-ness.
And this is the part where I flail a little bit, and also cower behind my laptop screen and hope that she doesn't strangle me with the powers of her mind, because one time I might have mentioned that Raven and Charles and Erik should take over the world as our Benevolent Dictators Of Mutants And Brotherhood And Threesomes, and then pprfaith wrote it all down in this amazing fashion, and the thing is, I haven't actually read it yet because I literally just logged in over here and saw that she kinda is actually entitled to at least maim me (for many offenses, not the least of which include the as-of-yet unposted birthday presents I meant to give on her actual birthday but haven't finished coverarting quite yet, and also because I said I'd sortakinda promised to read the draft of the fic in question, and I did, and I loved it, and then I never ever responded with my thoughts and instead hid from my email like the great big cowardly person I am. Because, clearly, if I do not open my inbox at all, not even for the X-Men, then the "You get no financial aid" email cannot find me, and I can continue living in blissful ignorance of the semester's tuition bill.) and also, tonight I seem to have temporarily mislaid my ability to use the 'period' key on my keyboard, because this sentence just WILL NOT STOP. Oh, look. It's over now. Phew.
The point being, everyone should go over and read The Weight of Water, and then I should also go over and read the final copy that I wasn't actually any help with (and I'm very sorry, I really really am; I'm not sure if run-on sentences are conveying my sincerity right now but I just can't seem to stop myself it's like verbal diarrhea of the keyboard right now, God!), and then I should grovel on my knees because I am, apparently, not someone that anyone should ever ask again to provide rough-draft feedback, okay? You want podfic? I'm your girl! Actually responding with critiques in a timely and helpful manner? .......Not so much. We live and learn, I guess (pprfaith learns that I should only be allowed to podfic her stories, and maybe provide flailly glee post-production.....and I hope to stay alive in the face of her (righteously deserved, because I was not exactly helpful in any way, shape, or form that I had promised to be) "I can kill you with my brain" powers).
So, um, that's that. I've got a single, shortish podfic to be posted tonight (it'll go in another entry, so that prospective podfic listeners in the future don't have to read all the way through this bit of brain-vomit to find it), and apologies to make and emails to reply to, so..... yup. That's all. Gonna stop typing any time now.....